Chapter 9
I stayed in my room, listening for the sound of footsteps, hoping it was Mila, because I felt sick at the thought that she might think I had done it on purpose.
But that made no sense. If I wanted to hurt her, which I don’t, why would I do something that would point right back to me?
I’d do it secretly. I’d leave the cupcake at her door anonymously instead of actually swapping the thing.
But it was her idea to swap the flavors anyway, so if the razorblade was planted on purpose, it was meant for me. I couldn’t get past that thought. I was deeply sorry that Mila was caught up in whatever happened, and that’s why I wanted to talk to her in person.
Again, my gaze found the neatly cut high hedge at the far end of the field just as a couple emerged holding hands and looking smug like they had just gotten out of there. Nice for some.
My mind drifted to the guy at the end of the hall, the metalhead, and I wondered if he was single.
He was attractive with a nice smile, mischievous eyes, and maybe we could get to know each other.
Without thinking, I moved my hand between my thighs, thinking of him while watching the happy couple walk across the grass.
Bizarrely, my urge to leave and clean this room grew stronger when the tall, dark blond Warwick guy jogged onto the field with other jocks and friends. You’d think I’d calm down, not get more turned on by that tall, muscular body and annoying face. God, such an irritating face.
My fingers moved over my jeans, directly over my clit, and I was surprised at how sensitive it was to my subtle touch. With my stare fixed on that shitty jock, my body shuddered, eager for me to go deeper.
My hand slid down between my jeans and warm, smooth skin, and as soon as my cold fingertips touched my throbbing clit, I gasped, causing a shiver to run down my thighs.
My legs turned to rubber, and I placed my other hand on the window frame to support myself because the sensation overtook me completely.
I hated having to see him—the arrogant, camel-piss, piece of shit—doing this to me.
So I shifted my thoughts back to the metalhead down the hall, who was hot.
Really hot, but in a different way than the jock.
No. The jock was not hot at all. God, why did I just think that?
He was the most irritating man I’d ever met, and that was only for a few seconds.
Imagine sitting beside him in class or worse, living with the asshole.
I’d have to stuff my ears with Kleenex so I wouldn’t have to hear his deep, fucking irritating voice. Loser.
Oh god, why was this making me so fucking horny? Prick. God, look at that asshole run, fucking arrogant ass running in those sweatpants, big hands grabbing the ball, broad shitty shoulders.
My eyes closed as I imagined both men, the metalhead and the arrogant jerk, going at me at once. Two pairs of hands everywhere, two pairs of lips, two tongues, two pairs of eyes, tearing over my body.
I could almost feel their touch as I slipped my fingers inside my sodden core, while using my thumb to work my clit. Imagining the metalhead, stripping my jeans down, dropping to his knees and biting my butt cheeks, while the Warwick prick kept his mouth on mine, big hand between my legs.
In my imagination, he then bent me over, and the metalhead penetrated me with his cock while I took Warwick’s big cock in my mouth. I moved over my fingers, getting caught up in this wondrous dream, and my juice dribbled down my thighs.
Hips jolted with every imaginary thrust from the boys, which drove my fingers deeper. I pulled up my sweater and slipped my right breast out of the cup of my bra and played with my hard nipple as I bounced on my fingers.
Rubbery legs, body on fire as the surge came hard and fast, and my entire body froze, and I held my breath to the point where I thought I wouldn't get it back. Then the floodgates opened, and the orgasm trembled through my body, and I gasped, louder than I intended, but that’s okay because I was completely alone on the entire floor.
Wow, that was an intense, scorching orgasm—one of the best. Thinking about a man I hated actually helped me get aroused and wet. I pressed my forehead against the doorframe to catch my breath and gather myself, then pulled my sticky hand from my pants.
As I zipped up my jeans and turned away from the window, I noticed someone on the park staring in my direction. I was only one floor above ground, so if they looked my way, they might have seen what I was doing.
Panic hit my stomach as it dawned on me who was watching. That mischievous gaze. That square jaw. Bulging, apple-sized muscles in his arms crossed over his chest, body relaxed in a movie-watching vibe—except the movie was me finishing, thinking of him.
Ezrah Bloody Warwick.
Staring directly at me.
But for how long?
Did he see everything?
Oh god, this was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me.
Heat warmed my cheeks as I angrily closed the blinds and hurried into the bathroom to pat cold water on my face to cool down. Thank goodness the dead rat was gone because I think I would’ve vomited during this stressful, awkward moment.
The light was dimming, and I didn’t have my light on, so I was sure he didn’t see that much.
“Oh god, who am I kidding?” I squirmed, wanting to vanish into an alternate universe forever. “Judging by that slimy look on his face, he saw absolutely everything and was enjoying my humiliation at the realization that he could see me.”
After a few minutes, I peeked through a crack in the blind and saw that he was gone. I then collapsed onto my bed in frustration, hoping I’d never see him again. But of course, that's impossible since he was in one of my classes, maybe more than one.
God, could someone just kill me now?
I scrolled through my phone as my stomach clenched with hunger, but I was too embarrassed to leave, worried I might run into him. Since we were enemies, I knew he’d be watching me, and I already suspected it was him who left the dead rat in my bathroom.
My stomach lurched in hunger because I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, indulging in a slice of toast and a coffee, and I bet the kitchen staff were currently setting up the hall for tonight’s feast.
All I could think about was food, so I closed my eyes and tried to shift my thoughts, but it was the smug face of the Warwick jerk that kept haunting me.
There was a sudden knock at my door, and I appreciated the distraction, but I was surprised I didn’t hear footsteps on the stairs. I grabbed my knife and put the door on the chain before opening it to find none other than the smug face of the Warwick prick.
“What do you want?” I hissed, embarrassed, trying desperately to hold my head high so I didn’t look ashamed for being caught self-fiddling.
“We need to talk,” he said in that charming way, hand pressed against the doorframe, leaning forward like he owned the world and I hated him for it.
“No, we don’t. You said all you needed to say earlier,” I blurted, then pushed the door shut, but he slipped his big sneaker into the way.
“Hungry?” he asked nicely.
“No,” I lied. “How did you get inside Morgana anyway?”
He tapped his nose with his large finger, wearing that annoying smile, and my mind was transported back to my daydream masturbation session just ten minutes ago, where those big fingers were inside me.
Pull your shit together, Addie.
“I have contacts,” he answered, tilting his head so he could get a better look inside my room through the small gap. “Do you want to catch a meal later on?”
“No,” I snapped, horrified. Was he asking me on a date?
He clenched his jaw as anger flashed in his blue eyes. “I need to discuss something with you, so at what point can I do that?” he spoke slowly, methodically.
“Speak now. I’ll give you two minutes and counting,” I called the shots. My space. My Time.
“Open the door,” he demanded, pushing on the wood, and I noticed the chain was starting to loosen in the wall, and my heart raced, fearing what he would do to me if he smashed down this door.
“No,” I replied calmly, even though my heart was pummeling against my ribs and my hands were trembling.
The hand that was wrapped around the handle of my knife was growing sweaty, but this was the answer to fixing this little problem. Casually and keeping my cool, I showed him my knife, and a smile stretched across his handsome dial. His reaction was different from what I hoped.
“Once a Boleyn, always a Boleyn,” he stated smoothly with a hint of pride in his tone, but he was showing no sign of relenting or being stressed about the sight of the knife.
“One minute,” I prompted him. “Hurry up and tell me what you want to say.”
His blue eyes glanced toward the end of the hall as if something caught his eye, then he focused back on me. “The cops are here,” he said quietly.
“And?” I tapped the blade of the knife against the door for him to keep going.
He looked away again, exhaled, then added, “They’re here to investigate a death.”
“I am aware,” I said impatiently.
His narrowed eyes caught my gaze and drilled into my skull. “You keep your mouth shut.”
“Huh? I have nothing to say anyway,” I hissed, confused as a door slammed somewhere, but the Warwick’s giant body was blocking my view. “I didn’t see anyone dead.”
The Warwick prick swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbled in his throat, “Exactly. You saw nothing,” in a tone that sent a shiver down my spine. There was a hidden meaning behind his words that I had no interest in investigating because I just wanted him to leave.
“Time’s up,” I snapped, having no idea what the time was because I was too frightened to leave to grab my phone in case he snapped the chain and burst through the door.
I pushed the door to close it in his face, but his shoe was still in the way, and he didn't seem in any hurry to leave. Giving him my coldest glare, he stretched out his departure to show me who was in charge before finally removing his foot.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I was about to shut him out when he said, cocking his eyebrows, “Did you come?”
“What?” I snarled, tightening my grip on my knife because it was so damn tempting to unchain this door and stab him in the eye.
“At the window,” he grinned. “I saw what you were do-”
I slammed the door in his smarmy face because I couldn’t stand to hear him talk about it. Oh God, he saw me. Kill me now.
After I secured the locks, I crumbled onto my bed in a pathetic heap, thinking that life couldn’t get worse.
Little did I know.