Chapter 7
SEVEN
It only takes the first week of classes to figure out that senior year’s curriculum is going to be an entirely different beast, and we’re going to be way busier than I think any of us expected.
Like the genius she is, Avery declares she’s cooking an early dinner for everyone on Friday nights going forward, to make sure we get to spend at least a little time together on the regular.
I’m on board immediately, because every part of it is a win for me, but I didn’t realize how desperate I’d be for it by the time Friday actually rolled around.
The only extracurricular I do is tutoring, and I only do it for the sake of my class and college credits, but everyone else has a packed schedule.
Avery has dance class almost every day, in three different styles, and even when she has a ‘rest’ day she does yoga or pilates in our room for her conditioning and flexibility.
Blaise and Ash are both on the basketball team, though neither take it too seriously, but Ash is militant about running track and trains every day of the week.
Now that he’s polishing his new songs for the next Vanth album, Blaise also has the private music room booked out until graduation.
Even with all of their commitments, somehow, I still see Harley the least.
With the extra workload assigned by Ms. Vivienne, and the fact that he’s putting some effort into practicing with the swim team now he’s actually hopeful that he’ll live to make it to college, I barely get to spend time with him outside of class.
Or, I guess, time we’re both conscious, because he sleeps in my bed most nights, but he’s gone before I wake up.
He’s just as pissed about it as I am though, and by Friday he snaps.
After storming into our room in a mood, he only pauses for as long as it takes to kick his shoes off and ditch his bag before he’s backing me into the bathroom with a blistering kiss.
I don’t know exactly what he’s planning, but I do know that I’m drunk on the taste of his lips as the ache in my chest finally eases up a little, because I get swept up in it without even thinking about the rest of the room.
It takes Avery throwing a serving spoon at his head to finally get him to stop.
Blushing profusely when I can finally think straight again, no one seems to care about my mortification, and it helps me get through the meal without kicking up too much fuss about finishing the giant plate of lasagna Ash serves me.
We get an entire, uninterrupted hour of snarky inside jokes and mostly good-natured ribbing together, and it’s already my favorite time of the week.
After dinner is over and the kitchen is clean, Ash, Avery, and Harley all head off to their training sessions, like they do most nights, and Blaise and I pull another extra study session together.
When I duck into the bathroom for a quick shower, he’s already tugging his tie off and digging through his bag, so I’m not expecting anything different from how our nights usually go.
We’ve been studying until Avery gets back and death glares him into leaving without complaint but with a quick kiss, which is why I’m shocked to find him lounging on my bed when I come out of the bathroom.
I quirk an eyebrow at him, and he grins at me, patting the bed playfully.
“Come on, Mounty, I’ve been good,” he practically fucking purrs at me.
My traitorous knees tremble, but I’m quick to tell them to quit.
I do not need a repeat of last year, playing catch up and wading through piles of assignments last minute with him, so I prop my hands on my hips and give him my best impression of Avery’s stern look.
Either I fail, or he’s better at deflecting them when they come from me, because his grin only turns salacious in the best fucking way.
He’s not playing fair.
Ready to chew him out for putting the work off, my lecture dies the instant he leans forward to strip his blazer off, popping two buttons on his shirt and letting the color of his tattoos peek out.
Then he leans back on the bed, giving me one last look through his hooded green eyes, and all bets are off.
Sweet lord.
I cave.
I cave so fucking quickly, climbing up to lie beside him, and he covers me with the hard lines of his body the second I do, like he’s as desperate as I am.
He stares down at me for a second, trapping me in that perfect gaze of his, and all I can do is swallow roughly as his eyes practically consume me.
Whatever it is he’s looking for, he finds, grinning again before he swoops down to take my lips.
As we kiss, deep and dirty, I slide my hands into the open collar to rub at the vibrant colors of his skin, and his answering groan is obscene.
I fucking love kissing him, the way we’re both as desperate as each other for it and the way he uses his whole body, like he needs to move against me because it’s too fucking hard to stay still.
He pulls my hips flush into his, and my heart stutters in my chest at the friction.
I’m so fucking worked up and ready for something to happen.
He kisses down my neck, murmuring appreciatively when my hips lift instinctively, and he pushes his knee between my legs to give me something to grind on.
I can barely scrape my thoughts together, but I know I want more.
I’m fucking horny.
That’s what’s happening here.
They’ve all been teasing me and working me into a frenzy and, goddammit, someone had better fucking do something about it, or I’m going to have to deal with the problem myself.
When I tell Blaise this, groaning out the words while he sucks on the soft skin below my ear, he grinds his own hips into me like maybe he’s desperate for the friction, too.
There’s laughter in his voice as he says, “I can do something about it, Star. What do you want?”
I blanche.
Well fuck, I don’t know!
He chuckles under his breath at me, and I give him a glare. “If you’re going to be a dick about me being a clueless virgin, I’m going to go have a cold shower instead.”
I move to try and pull away, but he doesn’t let go of my hips and the movement makes me rub against his dick. I cannot think about how big or hard he is without gulping and blushing like an idiot.
He groans, “Fuck, I’m not being an asshole; I’m trying to go slow. Pick something you’ve already done.”
I blush and glare at him some more until I see it click in his brain.
Blanching a little, he reels back. “You’re not serious?”
Miraculously, my face somehow gets even hotter. I snap, “Yes, I’m fucking serious! You know I’m a virgin.”
Blaise blows out a breath and reaches for his phone, his body curving over me and pressing me into the bed in an entirely too distracting type of way. “Being a virgin doesn’t mean you’ve never fooled around before. You’ve never made out with someone and gotten each other off?”
My mind flashes to the fucking insanely erotic feeling of grinding down on Harley’s dick, and I cough to hide my reaction. “No. I’ve barely done anything. Thanks for taking that so well, Jesus. Who are you calling? If you’re going to fucking tattle—”
He presses a hand over my mouth and slides down onto the bed, maneuvering us around until my back is pressed against his chest. He pulls me until my head drops back onto his shoulder and my throat is bared, as if he’s going to slit me ear to ear.
It definitely should not be a turn on, but I think we all know I’m not in the ballpark of normal.
He breathes into my ear, a shiver running down my spine, “I want to make you come so fucking hard the Jackal hears you screaming my name from his little fortress in the slums. I want you so fucking wet that your cum runs down my arm and I can smell you on my skin for days. You’re gonna let me touch you, aren’t you, Star? I want to watch you come.”
Sweet merciful lord.
Who fucking taught him to talk like that?!
Without him moving his hand away from my mouth, I’m forced to nod but that’s all the answer he needs.
He mumbles happily into my shoulder as he licks and sucks his way along the skin there, tracing the little scars I have with his tongue until I’m squirming.
I pant desperately through my nose when his free hand edges under my shirt and finds nothing but skin.
I decide I’m never fucking wearing a bra again.
His hand cups me and squeezes, his groan smothered in the back of my neck sending ripples of pleasure down my spine. Thank god I’ve been eating again and there’s something for him to hold onto, because I think I could come just from this.
“Fuck me,” he groans, rolling my nipples between his calloused fingertips.
He grunts again when I grind my ass into his dick, and he moves the hand from my mouth for long enough to get the shirt off of me and flip me onto my back, then he keeps me quiet by kissing me like he’s dying.
Fuck. Me.
I barely notice him tear my pants off. I’m too busy trying to get his stupid shirt undone without just ripping the buttons, and eventually he takes pity on me. He takes off his pants as well, leaving only his boxers, and my mouth waters at the sight of him.
Fuuuuuuck.
I’m struck dumb for a minute and when my brain decides to work again, I’m smug that he seems just as affected. He runs his hands up my stomach and over my tits now he can actually see them.
“Where the fuck have you been hiding these?” he groans, and I scoff at him.
“They come and go.”
He leans down to bite my earlobe and growls, “Well don’t fucking let them go again.”
Bossy asshole but, fuck, that’s hot.
Before I can think of a witty retort and he kisses me again, biting at my lips and sucking until I’m fucking gone for him. His hands work their way lower and lower until they hit my panties.
My heart stutters, but I still moan into his kiss regardless.