Chapter Two
Jonas.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t love the view from the gothic bell tower looming above the entirety of Rayne-Moore.
The flying buttresses, the spires, the ribbed vaults – even with all of the cobwebs, it’s fucking beautiful in here.
I’ve never felt more at home than inside the decrepit tower, watching the last of the arriving students, the faculty, like little human ants and I’m the giant and I can squash them all with my shoe.
I love that feeling. A little lonely at the top, sure, but I love it, nonetheless.
“So, George, see anyone that sparks your interest yet?” I ask the ancient stone gargoyle to my left. He stays silent, of course.
I turn to the roundabout as the last, super-shiny cherry-red sports car pulls in.
A familiar guy with dirty blonde hair hops out and opens the passenger door to let out…
I pull up my binoculars so I can see better when I see he’s helping a thick-thighed brunette out of the car.
She’s wearing a skater skirt, and she pushes it down against the wind.
Her hair blows wildly in the breeze and she turns away as he shuts the door, going to the trunk, pulling out a suitcase and an instrument case of some sort.
There’s a pang in my chest that dives straight to my groin.
“ Jesus . C’mon baby, turn around.”
She does, but the wind blows her hair into her face, and she keeps her head bowed. I stare as they make their way to the dorms. Oh, goody. I stay in the dorms, too so I’ll probably be getting her name sooner rather than later if that guy isn’t her boyfriend. Even then…
I chuckle. “Don’t let her boyfriend keep you from making her your wife, am I right, George?”
Silence.
Except something happens. As soon as she reaches the dorms, they’re intercepted by none other than Dean Whitmore.
He holds out his dark brown hand and after a minute she takes it, hair still wild.
I decide I like it. Her hair, I mean. The guy takes his hand, too.
I quirk my eyebrows. Why would Dean Whitmore make a personal appearance to greet them ?
“You think they’re famous?” I ask the stoney bastard to my left. “Like, celebrity famous, I mean?”
Nothing.
Ah, just as well. They go inside the building, the guy tugging the suitcase behind him, Whitmore carries the cello case. That’s… new.
Hmm…
A white BMW pulls up but instead of stopping at the front, circles and comes to the back, parking by the faculty dorms. A handsome fucker with black hair and a little bit of silver on the sides pops out.
He too, goes to his trunk and pulls out two suitcases.
The leggy blonde, Ms. Overly from the admin office greets him and points at the faculty building where he’ll be staying.
I watch him come out a second time to retrieve another suitcase and a crate full of stuff.
New professor? No. He looks a little more put together than most of the professors around here. He has that air of sophistication about him that’s already wildly annoying. But that’s Rayne-Moore for you.
I curse when my phone rings. “Yeah?”
“Yo, Jonas, where are you?”
“Around.” I reply. I’m not giving away my little spot up here to fucking Chase of all people. He’ll just bring chicks up here to bang and probably leave his used condoms lying around, fucking up my vibes. “What’s up?”
“We’re heading to the dining hall. See you there? ”
“I could eat.” I respond. I ate two hours ago but I’m a growing boy. I’m twenty-two, but still, a growing man that plays college football in an elite university. Sometimes, all I do is eat. Food or pussy, but I’m always hungry. I mean, if I don’t feed my muscles, who will?
“Great, see you there.”
We hang up and I drop my binoculars, not seeing the brunette that I know will have a gorgeous face to match that physique.
God, with hips like that, I bet the recoil would be great.
I bet she smells like vanilla or something.
Nah. Something better than vanilla. A chill rushes down my spine and straight to my cock when I think of all the different ways she could possibly taste .
I haven’t even met her and I’m hard for her.
For all I know she could be a royal bitch. That would be a bummer.
“See ya later, George.” I say, reaching over and patting his weathered stone head.
It takes me a full thirty minutes to get down to the cafeteria, get through the line and sit next to Riordan and some of the other guys on the football team.
I’m halfway done with my spaghetti when Chase, our Quarterback and Riordan’s twin, puts his elbows on the table and leans halfway into the table, blue eyes looking at all of us.
He swallows what he’s chewing. “Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” Riordan asks, blonde brow over his own set of baby blues.
“Melissa said Raven Monroe was moving in across the hall from her dorm.”
I swallow. Holy shit.
Back when Dean Whitmore was an English Lit professor and not the Dean, Raven Monroe’s story was headline news for weeks after what happened to her.
The camera from outside of the music hall only captured really grainy footage of four people (it was never known if it had been students) going into the hall after the custodian, Lex, left for the evening.
Crude pictures one of the paramedics had taken and then sold during the whole ordeal and plastered everywhere got him fired from the fire department and her parents pressed charges.
The things those people did to her were awful.
My sister Cadence was a senior when it happened, Monroe was barely a sophomore, having just turned twenty.
Cadence followed the entire thing, but with no new leads, Cadence kind of forgot and moved to London after graduation to work at a publishing company.
I never forgot, though. I mean, I ended up coming here.
But, because of what happened to Monroe, a curfew was set into place.
The entire campus shuts down after midnight and Dean Whitmore kept it.
After my sister graduated and moved, I took a “gap semester” and then came back for my junior and senior years before I go to law school.
Thankfully, Coach let me back on the team.
“Melissa said Dean Whitmore personally escorted her to her dorm, her brother, Axel was there, too.” Her brother . Fuck yeah. “Apparently, she can’t talk.”
“Can’t talk?” I ask.
Riordan shakes his head. “She’s not just mute, but she doesn’t talk at all. Not even sign language. It’s crazy.”
I quirk my eyebrows. “No, that’s stupid and I don’t believe that part. How is she supposed to participate in classes if she won’t talk?”
Chase sits back in his chair and shrugs his heavy Quarterback shoulders. “I’m just telling you what I heard.”
Riordan looks at his brother and Chase smirks. I hate when they talk to each other with their eyes. It’s fucking weird. “No secrets, fuckers.”
“She was fucking hot. I mean, before the whole thing happened. The news only showed those bad pictures that paramedic took, but our cousin, Tyler was the football captain when she was here. She came to one of the parties at his house. We snuck out and went. She had this ass… fuck man, it was unbelievable when she was nineteen. Curvy as fuck. Can you imagine what she looks like now?”
I don’t need to imagine. I saw her. And they’re right. She has the body of a woman – plush in all the right places. Enough for me to grip in my hands, enough for me to pummel into from the back. Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
“She has to be what? Twenty-three now?” Riordan says in a hushed tone.
“Twenty-four.” I mutter .
Chase laughs and then winks. “I’ve always preferred older women.”
I want to punch both of them in their beautifully sculpted identical faces.
I wonder if I break Chase’s nose if Riordan will feel it?
I could always try out the theory. I really want to try it right now.
Before I can wind my arm back and throw my fist forward, the cafeteria doors are pushed open, and it’s utter and complete silence.
Axel walks in and behind him is the goddess herself.
My heart stops at the sight of her still in her little black skirt from earlier, fishnet stockings, heeled combat boots, her wavy hair with what I can see now is a streak of silver on one side, is now in pigtails, wearing a black Bullet for My Valentine T-shirt that’s tucked into the front of her skirt, eyes winged to perfection and that’s it.
No lipstick. No contouring bullshit. Just big lashes and winged eyes.
I love her.
When she walks by me, I catch the sight of the vines going up her leg, intricate blooming lotus flowers and spider lilies disappearing up her thigh, under her skirt and I want to know exactly where they lead to.
I want to know what they feel like under my fingertips, if they’re still raised up on her skin.
They look fresh. Do they hurt? Can I lick them?
Fuck. My dick goes rock hard under the table in two seconds flat when the whispers begin.
Axel holds out his elbow and she takes it, keeping her head down as they walk to the food line. The extreme differences between them is almost laughable. Axel is full WASP in a polo and khakis like the Hartford student he is and beside him, the goddess of night herself.
My mouth fills with saliva immediately at the way her firm thighs lightly jiggle, but the medium-sized holes in her fishnets don’t hide the muscles in her quads that tell me she could probably squash my head if she squeezed it too hard while I make her come on my tongue. Fuck. I gotta get closer.