Chapter 9 #2
"For this? I could run a marathon."
I shifted, wrapping my good arm under her hips, and stood up. She wrapped her legs around my waist, burying her face in my neck.
I carried her down the hall.
My bedroom was dark. The only light came from the city glow filtering through the sheer curtains.
I set her down on the edge of the bed—my bed. The bed she had refused to sleep in for a week.
She looked up at me. Her hair was a mess. Her lips were swollen. She looked perfect.
"Are you sure?" I asked, hesitating. The contract flashed in my mind. The rules. The danger.
Faye reached out and grabbed the waistband of my jeans.
"If you quote the contract right now," she whispered, "I will kill you."
I laughed. A breathless, desperate sound.
"No contract," I swore. "Just us."
She pulled me down.
We fell onto the mattress together. I hovered over her, taking my weight on my left arm to protect the right.
I looked down at her. She was sprawled on my grey sheets, a vision in gold and skin.
"Faye," I murmured, brushing the hair off her forehead. "You are so beautiful it hurts."
"Show me," she whispered. "Show me how much you want me."
I reached for the zipper of her dress.
"Gladly."
I pulled the zipper down. The dress fell away.
She wasn't wearing a bra. Of course she wasn't.
Her breasts were pale in the moonlight, tipped with rose. They rose and fell with her quick breaths.
I lowered my head.
I worshipped her.
I kissed her throat, her collarbone, the slope of her breast. I took her nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue until she arched off the mattress with a cry.
"Graham," she moaned, her hands tangling in my hair. "Please."
"Patience," I murmured against her skin. "We have all night."
I moved lower. I kissed her ribs. Her stomach. The soft skin of her inner thigh.
I stripped her panties off. Black lace. Gone.
She was naked. Vulnerable. Open.
And she was mine.
I moved back up, kissing her mouth again, tasting her arousal on my lips.
I reached for my belt.
Faye’s hands were there first. She fumbled with the buckle, her fingers shaking.
"Let me," she whispered.
She undid the belt. The button. The zipper.
She pushed my jeans down.
I kicked them off. Boxer briefs followed.
Skin on skin. Finally.
The sensation was overwhelming. The heat. The softness of her against the hardness of me.
I positioned myself between her legs. She opened for me instantly, wrapping her legs around my waist again.
I paused at the entrance.
I needed to see her eyes.
"Faye," I rasped. "Look at me."
She opened her eyes. They were wide, dark, and filled with trust.
"I’m here," she said.
"I’m not going to be gentle," I warned. "I can't be. Not tonight."
"I don't want gentle," she vowed. "I want you."
I pushed inside.
Slowly. Inch by scorching inch.
She was tight. So tight. She gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I groaned, gritting my teeth against the pleasure. It was too much. It was sensory overload.
When I was fully seated, deep inside her, I stopped.
I rested my forehead against hers. We breathed together. Harsh, ragged breaths.
"You okay?" I asked.
"More than okay," she whispered. "Move, Graham. Please."
I moved.
I set a rhythm. Slow at first, then faster. Harder.
The bed frame creaked. The sounds of our skin slapping together filled the room. Her moans were the only music I ever wanted to hear.
It wasn't just sex. It was a conversation. It was an argument. It was a reconciliation.
Every thrust was a promise. I see you. I’ve got you. You’re mine.
Faye met me thrust for thrust. She was wild. Chaos incarnate. She bit my shoulder—the good one. She scratched my back. She wrapped her legs tighter, pulling me deeper.
"Graham," she sobbed, her head thrashing on the pillow. "I’m close. I’m close."
"Let go," I commanded, driving into her hard. "Let go, Faye. I’ve got you."
She shattered.
I felt her clamp down around me, pulsing, milking me dry. Her cry was high and keen.
It broke my control.
I groaned, burying my face in her neck, and followed her over the edge.
The release was explosive. It ripped through me, emptying my mind, my body, my soul.
I poured myself into her.
We lay there for a long time afterward. Tangled limbs. Sweat cooling on our skin. The smell of sex and vanilla filling the air.
I rolled off her, pulling her into my side. She curled into me immediately, resting her head on my chest, her hand splayed over my heart.
"Wow," she whispered into the darkness.
I chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "Eloquent."
"My brain is offline. Try again later."
I pulled the duvet up over us, cocooning us in the warmth.
I felt... peace. Actual peace. The silence wasn't heavy anymore. It was content.
"Graham?"
"Yeah?"
"We broke the contract."
"We renegotiated," I corrected, closing my eyes.
"Can we renegotiate again in the morning?"
I smiled. "Count on it."
She fell asleep within minutes. I listened to her breathing level out.
I drifted off, holding the girl who was chaos in my arms, finally understanding that chaos wasn't something to be feared. It was something to be embraced.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of the morning.
Somewhere in Aspen
Silas Allister looked at the photo on his phone.
The likes were climbing. The comments were vicious.
He took a sip of his scotch.
"Get me the PR team," he said to his assistant. "And call the Dean. I think it’s time we reviewed Mr. Vane’s scholarship eligibility. Morality clause violations are... troublesome."
He deleted the photo.
"Let’s see how much he loves her when he has nothing left to lose."