Chapter 49 So High School #2
I take a slow, steadying breath and push deeper into the back corner of the library.
Maybe if I stick to the shadows he can’t see me.
I know he has to be close if he can see my reactions.
It means he’s watching me, and I’m not even going to acknowledge the thrill that seems to go through me knowing that.
My eyes follow the stairs that go up to the loft and there he is. The smug looking bastard is just standing there, leaning against the railing.
His eyes lock onto mine and his lips curl into that goddamn smirk that makes me want to either slap him or drop to my knees. Maybe both.
He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t fucking have to. At this point I’d crawl up the stairs if it meant this ache would go away.
My breathing's a mess. My chest rising and falling faster than I want it to. Every inch of me reacts under his stare. And the bastard knows exactly what he's doing. He tilts his head, dragging his eyes over me like he’s peeling me apart layer by layer, stripping me down with just a look. As if I wasn’t already unraveled.
I can't move. I’m rooted to the spot, caught in his stare like a moth to a flame.
The tingling is back, or maybe it never left. I honestly can’t tell if it’s my magic or if it’s just him? Hell if I know, but I shove it down, forcing myself to focus.
Not that it helps.
His dark hair falls around his face, framing those sharp cheekbones in a way that makes my mouth go dry. I swallow hard, searching for anything else to focus on. And Failing. Miserably.
And then he moves. His eyes lock onto mine as he begins his slow descent down the staircase, one slow, stupid step at a time.
I’m still openly staring when his smirk deepens. “Like what you see, Princess?”
And then he fucking winks, followed by a low chuckle that rolls over me like a caress. My whole body tightens as heat threatens to consume me whole. All I can do is breathe.
I blink, desperate to reboot my brain, but it’s fried beyond repair.
“What? No. I mean, yes, but that’s—”
Jesus. The words tumble out in a frantic mess, and I want to throw myself into the sun. What the actual fuck was that?
Kane’s grin widens like I just handed him a gift. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, and I can tell he’s trying to bait me. And it’s working.
“I know you want me.”
Fucker.
My mouth parts while my brain scrambles for a response. Of course I want him. Look at him. But I can't tell him that. “No! I don’t, actually!”
That was too defensive. Way too defensive.
His brow lifts, and I can see the smug amusement on his face. His silence drags out just long enough to let me bury myself deeper. I know without a doubt that he's going to ruin me and I jolt back on instinct, right into the table. My breath stumbles, and his smirk only widens when he notices.
I lift my hands, intending to shove him away, but the second my palms land on his chest, he leans in instead.
Oh Shit.
Heat radiates off him, burning through the thin fabric of his T-shirt, searing into my fingers. Into me.
“Are you sure about that?”
Okay, fine. I can admit that I missed his arrogant ass… a little. Not that he needs to know that. But he's right. I want him. Desperately.
My heart pounds as he holds my stare, and the heat in his eyes is impossible to look away from. Talk about a literal wet dream.
I've been wound tight since that dream in the tub, so when he steps in close, blocking every exit, I sink onto the edge of the table. His hands cage me, and then his voice drops—dragging the air right out of my lungs.
“I've wanted to do this all morning.”
His lips crash into mine, like all the holding back has been its own twisted game. Now that he has me, he's not wasting a second. And fuck, like I'm any better. Weeks of pretending snapped in an instant. I don't just want him, I need him.
I answer him with fire of my own, sliding my tongue against his, daring him to take more. He bites down on my lip, and the sting shoots straight through me. His hand grips the back of my neck, forcing me to tilt until he's in control, devouring me like he owns every inch of me.
And, Gods help me, I let him.
I suck on his tongue, just to see if he’s thinking the same filthy shit I am. And judging by the growl vibrating in his chest, he is.
His grip tightens. His hand trails up my waist, burning in its wake, before sinking into my hair. He yanks, sharp enough to make me gasp and to remind me exactly who's in control.
He makes a low, satisfied noise, dark enough to vibrate against my mouth.
“Careful, Princess,” he murmurs, against my lips. The heat in his voice alone could get me off. “You’re already testing my self-control.”
His words ignite something reckless inside me. But the second his teeth graze my jaw, I smirk. “Maybe that was the point.”
If he’s going to push, then I’m pushing him just as much.
“Do your worst.” His voice is silk over gravel, nothing but pure fucking sin.
My pulse pounds between my legs, and I know whatever comes next is going to ruin me for anyone else. But I don’t hesitate.
I slide off the table and sink to my knees.
He tenses, surprise flashing quickly across his face for a split second before he buries it. His hand comes up to cup my face, dragging his thumb against my jaw in a touch that feels deceptively gentle, but I see it for what it is. A warning.
I don’t stop. I can't even if I wanted to. I grip the waistband of his sweats, curling my fingers around the fabric when his hand closes over mine, stopping me.
Our eyes lock and there’s something unspoken there. I don’t give him the chance to speak, because if he says anything, I might lose my nerve.
So I ignore him, and tug.
The fabric slides down over hard muscle, smooth skin—and oh fuck. His cock springs free and my pussy clenches, desperate for him to be inside me.
I squeeze my legs together, the ache demanding relief I'm not about to chase. Because right now, I have other plans.
I lift my gaze, parting my lips while every muscle in my body is wound so fucking tight I think I might snap.
Kane watches me with the kind of expression that should be illegal. His head tilts in a silent dare as he licks his bottom lip and my pussy aches, leaving no doubt how badly I want him.
“Something caught your attention, sweetheart?”
Oh he’s definitely enjoying this. And if I’m being honest, so am I. Having this much control over him is intoxicating.
His cock rests heavy in his grip, thick and hard, and my mouth waters instantly. I shouldn’t be surprised—I’ve seen him before—but fuck. He's massive. Hard. And perfect.
I can feel my nipples harden, rubbing against the fabric of my dress, and at this point my whole body is tingling. I haven't heard any thunder in the distance, so I think it’s safe to say it’s all him influencing my body’s reaction.
I don't stop. I flatten my palms against his thighs, digging my nails in slightly, as I drag my fingers down his leg. I watch as his breath shudders and his jaw flexes.
His fingers sink into my hair, tightening his grip enough to make it sting. And then he leans down, and I can feel his breath hot on my ear.
“Open that pretty mouth of yours.”
The words are a command, dripping with authority, and fuck if I don’t want to obey. But I make him wait.
I press a slow, lingering kiss to his inner thigh, feeling the way his muscles flex under my lips. I can feel his control fracturing with every second that passes. The power I hold is thrumming through my veins like fire and I love it.
I take my time kissing my way up his leg, inch by inch, being intentionally cruel. I love the way his body reacts to me almost as much as mine reacts to him.
His cock twitches, but I hover over his swollen tip, letting my breath fan over him. A single bead of precum glistens and, I flick my tongue out to catch it, savoring the salty taste of him.
A sharp inhale leaves his lips and his grip tightens in my hair, but I’m not giving him what he wants just yet.
I drag my lips along his length, pressing slow, featherlight kisses down his shaft. My breath ghosts across the places I know he wants my mouth the most as I wrap my hand around him, refusing to give him more.
The frustration rolling off him is thick, and it only fuels the thrill buzzing through my body. He strokes himself slowly as he watches me, his gaze dark with intent.
And when he brushes the tip against my lips, my stomach tightens and every muscle in my body locks up with need. Molten heat pools between my thighs, and I’m sure I'm dripping at this point. I don’t know how much longer I can tease him before he snaps.
“Now, be a good girl and open your mouth.”
Fuck. Me.
My control is slipping, fast. That tone is laced with authority and promise, and my entire body is seconds away from going up in flames. It shouldn’t be this hot. It shouldn’t have me this fucking wet before he’s even really touched me, but it does. I can barely think straight.
I part my lips and flick my tongue over his tip before sliding down, taking him inch by fucking inch. My lips burn with the stretch, and my throat tightens as I drag him deeper, greedy for more. I suck like my life depends on it.
His sharp inhale is immediate, his grip in my hair tightening like he’s seconds away from losing his control.
I work him, in slow, teasing strokes, licking around the head before I slide down as far as I can go. My hands brace against his thighs, holding myself steady as I suck him deeper, desperate to drag out more of those rough, broken sounds that make my pussy pulse with need.
His fingers flex, tightening in my hair.
Before I have time to think his hand grips my throat, hauling me effortlessly to my feet. The movement is so swift, it knocks the air from my lungs, and just like that I lost all my control. Or the control I thought I had.
My back hits the table, and a sharp gasp rips from my throat as he yanks my dress up, spreading my thighs wide, with no hesitation. Then his mouth is on me. Devouring me.