Chapter 47
47
Sonny
I ’m washing vegetables for a salad when Raze walks into the kitchen behind me. I don’t know how I know it’s him, aside from the instant reaction my body has to his presence. He sets my entire being on fire the moment he comes within a certain distance.
Neither of us has mentioned the temper tantrum I had in his room a week ago. As promised, he hasn’t been an imposition to any of us. In fact, once he and my parents got past their awkwardness from their standoff when I had my breakdown, they started working together every day. They’ve been obsessive over fine tuning the rebellion’s plans for every possible scenario where the Syndicate retaliates for his treason. All of their discussions are made right at the dining room table, instead of being hidden away and whispered in secret the way they always had before.
Part of me thinks that was his doing as a subtle attempt to let me be more involved. It’s certainly allowed me to hear some conversations I’m sure they would have rather had without me present.
Even living here, he’s too busy to offer more than a few heated looks from across the house or some random infiltrating thoughts before I find a way to make myself scarce.
Truthfully, it’s hard to fight my feelings for him when he’s so close. It’s like I’m falling for a completely different man than I knew last semester. Matilda was definitely onto something when she separated him into two sides. The current one who has been overly respectful of our boundaries and protective over me makes it hard to resent the one who tossed me into that cell. But I owe it to my friends to not sleep with the man who had a part in imprisoning us again. It’s the least I could do—even if it feels next to impossible as time wears on.
Beatrix and Ava are watching TV on the couch, and Jonah crawled back up to his room as soon as our training session with Griffin was through. For some reason, he has the hardest recovery periods.
I ran upstairs for a shower and then snuck down here for a quick snack.
Which leaves us all alone for the first time since he’s moved in.
He’s traded the stiff dress shirts and slacks every day for loose t-shirts and joggers, somehow making the casual clothing look classy and polished. I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time debating which look was hotter, and concluded that the way his muscles flex beneath the cotton of his t-shirt and the slight outline of his cock in the joggers far surpass anything else.
I’ve managed to keep my back to him, paying special attention to drying the cucumber in my hands as he moves around behind my back. It works for a few minutes until two enormous hands grip the counter on either side of me and I startle.
“You smell delicious,” he hums against my ear, making a show of running his nose along my neck and inhaling the scent.
His erection presses against my back, and my hips sway against it on their own accord.
No . We can’t do this again.
I still my body, straightening my spine until he has no choice but to back away from me before I spin around in my spot and offer an apologetic smile. “I shouldn’t do this with you after everything that’s happened,” I inform, my tone cold and detached.
“Hmm. That’s not what you said before,” he purrs against my ear.
Before . When he fell to his knees and worshipped me at my feet. We’ve managed to avoid the subject so well, I forgot how embarrassed I am over it.
To prove his point, he reaches forward to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, his knuckles lightly brushing my nipple through my shirt. It sends a shockwave down my spine that jolts me further into his touch before I can try to muffle the reaction.
Damn traitorous body.
Maybe he has three sides to his personality. He hasn’t shown this side since that day, weeks ago. Hell, maybe he has a whole arsenal in that crazy mind of his.
Reaching behind me, he grabs hold of the cucumber I’ve washed and holds it up between us. “I won’t even touch you,” he promises.
Before I can offer my rebuttal, he’s wrapping his hands around my thighs and hoisting me onto the counter. Next, he steps between my legs and begins dragging the tip of the vegetable across my collar bone and down my sternum.
The robe I’m wearing pulls apart, the weak knot I fastened after my shower threatening to come loose and fully expose me. I had no intention of running into anyone down here. This was a quick mission: wash some veggies, chop them up, throw them into a bowl, and scurry back up the stairs.
I never imagined Raze would prowl down here, ready to play. Or that I would be this receptive to playing back.
All I can do is watch, the demand for him to stop stuck in my throat.
My breath stills in my lungs as the cucumber passes the knot at my belly button. The path to my thighs is shorter than I imagined, and I can’t stop the long sigh that passes through my lips as it dips between them.
Fuck, it’s hot.
Do I want this? Is this some new, phallus-shaped vegetable kink I never knew about?
I know I shouldn’t be enjoying myself so much. I know it’s all kinds of messed up—getting off with a man who quite literally shoved me into an underground cell to rot away and die. With a cucumber, no less.
Maybe I am a little fucked-up.
Maybe he is, too.
The only consolation is that he appears just as affected by this as I am, his eyes at half-mast and laser-focused on moving his hand between my thighs.
I could pretend he’s someone else. If only the thought of being with anyone else didn’t send my arousal packing. It has to be him. No one else elicits this reaction from me.
Okay, so maybe it’s not a vegetable kink, but a Raze kink.
I’m so screwed.
“Sorry, it’s not hot pink,” he teases. It takes everything in me not to slap him across the face.
Of course, he’d bring up the very large surprise I found in the duffel bag he dropped into my room the first night we were here. Why, out of everything he’s witnessed these past few weeks, does that feel like the worst of it?
My legs have parted for him like the red sea, making extra room for the hand that’s wrapped around the base of the cucumber. The smallest amount of pressure against my clit has my abs tightening. I have to dig my teeth into my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out.
“You said no touching,” I remind him hoarsely.
He pauses, blinking down at me like he’s been lost in thought before something in his mind appears to click, and his familiar soft black tendrils begin swirling around us. One of them slips between our bodies to wrap around the cucumber, and he releases his grip.
Moving his hand to grasp the counter again, this time beside my bare thigh, his shadow lines it back up with my center.
The cucumber slips upward, revealing just how into this I really am, and Raze lifts his brow, that cocky smile already twitching at the sides of his mouth. I want to fling my foot into his shin for being so insufferable. Then, I want to wrap it around his torso and climb him like a tree.
“Shutthefuckup,” I rush out in one breath, resting my palms on the counter behind me so I can shift my weight onto them. He responds by pushing my left knee upward with his chest, resting the heel of my foot onto the edge of the counter to give himself better access.
I shoot him a warning glare at his fingers wrapped around my thigh, and he pulls them away like they’re on fire.
The fleeting thought that anyone could walk in here and find us like this—with him between my legs, fucking me with my lunch—has me pausing for a fraction of a second. Being caught by my parents would be horrifying and if any of my friends were to find us this way, they’d probably skin me alive. But Raze does something with the cucumber that sends stars into my vision, and the thought leaves my mind altogether.
Damn him and his mind reading. I’m too distracted by what he’s doing to hold up any sort of mental shield.
Once he’s teased my clit enough for his liking, he has the twisting shadows swirl it around a few times, and then begins to slowly press against my entrance.
“Are you imagining this is my cock right now? Pressing against your pussy?” he hums in a low, tantalizing growl.
I almost lose it right then and there. Because yes. Yes, I am imagining this vegetable is him, despite the fact that I’ve sworn him off completely, and I don’t know what that says about me.
He leans forward, careful not to allow our bodies to touch at any point, and tilts his head down to watch as the shadows make the cucumber disappear inside of me, inch by torturous inch. His breathing hitches, hands starting to shake.
I’ve never seen him struggle this much to maintain control. It’s exhilarating, knowing that I’m the reason he can’t hold on.
A quick glance at the bulge in his sweatpants confirms that this has him just as wound up as it does me.
Footsteps pad down the short hallway leading to the kitchen, and we freeze. The realization hits us both at the same time that there’s not enough time to get out of this incriminating position.
The speed and weight of the steps tells me it’s Jonah. It’s wild how well I know the sounds their bodies make after so much time together.
Fuck, fuck, fuuuck . It’s bad enough I have to live with myself after letting the devil back in. Now, I also have to live with Jonah’s disappointment. He’s going to tell Beatrix and Ava and they’re never going to let me live it down.
Seconds later, he rounds the corner. With no other option, I sit forward and cower against Raze’s chest, hopeful that the move will cover any exposed part of me.
My anticipation spirals as I wait for Jonah to turn and notice us.
This is so mortifying, I can’t even stand it. We should have never done this. I shouldn’t have even been alone with him if this is how quickly he can get me to fold.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda. If I wasn’t so thirsty for male attention, none of this would have happened.
I blame the gray joggers.
Raze looks like he’s sharing the same embarrassed sentiment. No, scratch that . He looks like he wants to murder Jonah for interrupting us. There’s no panic or fear laced in his motions—just pure, alpha-hole possession. I don’t miss the way he leans forward to fully block me from view, his shadows darkening into a fully opaque black.
So, he’s not a voyeur. Noted.
But the effort seems wasted when Jonah doesn’t ever look in our direction.
It’s the oddest thing. He goes straight for the fridge, completely ignoring the scene unfolding on the counter right across from him. My eyes carefully track him as he opens the door, grabs a yogurt from the top shelf, then closes it. With my heart sitting in the pit of my stomach, I realize he’s headed for the drawer right beside my leg when he turns in our direction, eyes focused on the cup in his hand.
This is it. He’s going to lift his eyes and see us. Then he’s going to lose his shit on me. No one hates Raze as much as Jonah.
I glance at the man between my thighs, noting the intensity in his expression as he keeps his chin tucked down, stare lasered in on me. Frowning, I quickly tuck my leg closer to him just in time for Jonah to tug the drawer out and grab a spoon.
His eyes never once land on us.
“What did you do?” I mouth the words to Raze.
He only shakes his head, a mischievous gleam twinkling in his dark eyes. I’m completely baffled when he readjusts his posture to make room for his shadows to slide the cucumber back between my legs. My heart drops at the realization of what he’s about to do, attention pinging over to Jonah, who is standing over the garbage can.
He rips the top of the yogurt off and tosses it into the can right as Raze gently pushes the cucumber back inside of me. Feeling brave, he snakes his hand between us and rubs his thumb against the bundle of nerves. My body relaxes instantly, despite the fact that Jonah is only a few feet away, shoving a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth.
My attention moves back to Raze, who is full-on grinning at me with that cocky little glimmer I hate so much.
I realize what is happening way too late. These are his gifts. Not just the shadows, but the ability to bend the fabric of reality. He must be creating the illusion that the kitchen is empty for Jonah to protect us from being caught.
Evil, diabolical, sexy Mirrane man. I can’t stand how easy it is for him to pull a reaction out of me.
His free hand leaves my clit and I unintentionally release a little mewl at the loss of his touch. With his shoulders shaking in a silent chuckle, he slips his palm beneath his waistband and grabs his erection inside of his pants, slowly pumping.
For some reason, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
There’s an ache in my chest at the sight. I want my hand to be wrapped around his cock right now. Forget not being touched. Who came up with that horrible idea? I need him all over me— inside me.
When I’m positive that Jonah can’t see us, I relax backward and open my legs further, too turned on at the sight of Raze stroking himself to let logic slip through this mania and stop me from enjoying myself.
This is beyond fucked. It’s outright deranged. If Jonah knew what was happening while he stood there, enjoying his yogurt, he’d probably kick both of our asses.
But he’ll never know. This secret will stay between me and Raze forever, and something about that feels so much more intimate than any physical touch.
I shudder as his pace quickens—both hands moving at equal speed to get each of us to our respective climaxes. My hips begin moving in circles on their own accord, pushing forward as the cucumber grinds further against me. Raze responds immediately, mirroring the pace until the sensation is almost too much to bear.
Jonah finishes his yogurt, his spoon scraping against the sides of the plastic cup right as tension builds deep in my core. I’m going to come. Fuck , I’m going to come right on this counter in front of one of my best friends.
My hand shoots out to grasp Raze’s wrist, nails digging into flesh as I guide him and the cucumber exactly where I need them to be.
“Fuck, Sonny,” Raze hisses, his muscles taut as he pumps himself faster inside his sweatpants. He’s close to finishing, too. Hearing my name on his lips that way—my real name—is enough to have me panting like a dog.
Three more pumps, and by the grace of God, Jonah shuffles out of the kitchen just as my entire body tightens, my eyes squeezing shut as stars explode behind them. My legs shake against his hips as Raze continues moving the cucumber inside of me. I wish so badly it was him instead. I had forgotten how good he felt. It’s only been a few weeks of detox, and I’m already addicted again.
My orgasm takes hold and Raze drags it out longer than I thought was humanly possible.
Electricity shoots up my spinal cord, blasting fireworks behind my eyelids when I tip my head backward, my mouth open in a silent scream.
As I begin to come down from the high, he pulls his cock over his waistband and long, warm ropes of cum shoot out across my stomach.
“Fuck,” he mutters again, brows tented upward. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”
In a moment of orgasm-induced bravery, I release my death grip on his wrist to swipe a finger through the warm liquid sitting on my stomach, then bring it to my mouth. The strong, salty flavor makes my jaw spasm and my mouth water. His eyes track my every move, pupils so dilated, I can’t even see the rich brown of his irises. I watch him through my lashes as I wrap my lips around my finger and suck it dry, waiting for his reaction with bated breath.
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing against his throat with the motion. Finally, when I pull my finger back out with a loud pop, he reaches forward and wraps his hand against the front of my throat. Pushing against my jawline, he forces my chin upward until my eyes meet his directly.
And what I find swimming in that beautiful, dark stare is more emotion than either of us is willing to communicate to each other. His gaze flicks between my mouth and my eyes, nostrils flaring at whatever he sees staring back.
“If it’s my cum in your mouth that you want,” he begins, forcing every word out through a clenched jaw. “Then you’ll have to convince me that allowing you to wrap those beautiful lips around my cock won’t result in you biting it right off.”
Said lips part in a smile as I run my tongue along the bottom of my teeth. “I can’t make any promises,” I tease, my voice a heady groan.
Damn, I’m on a roll. A brand new cucumber kink and a flirty comeback? Who is she?
Raze doesn’t reply. Instead, he tugs a paper towel from the holder to my right and begins wiping off my stomach.
The silence allows my usual shame to creep in, whispering in my ear how big of a mistake this was. I drop my chin, lowering my shirt. “We weren’t supposed to do this again.”
He answers without lifting his head. “Yes, we were.”
“I told you, we can’t,” I insist.
His hands pause in place as he lifts his gaze to look me directly in the eyes as he grinds out, “And I told you, I don’t care what anyone else thinks about what I do. So long as you continue responding to me like that...” He flicks his gaze between my legs, and I snap them closed. “I’ll continue delivering earth-shattering orgasms.”
T en minutes later, I’m sitting on the couch next to Ava, pretending to be enthralled with whatever true crime documentary they’re all watching. After I abandoned my salad, I was going to sit in my room in a self-proclaimed time out. But something about being alone felt wrong, so I wandered down here to be with other people. Turns out, that was a mistake. Keeping a secret from the three of them is next to impossible now. I’m going to spontaneously self-combust from the pressure of holding this one in for so long.
To my horror, Raze strolls into the living room a few moments after me, looking relaxed and fully recovered from what just happened between us in the kitchen. Ava, Beatrix, and Jonah all turn away from the TV to watch him. They can’t help it. Something about Raze commands respect and attention. It’s probably how he was so successful as a professor.
I follow their lead, my eyes widening beyond what I thought was humanly possible when I realize what he’s holding.
The fucking cucumber. The same one that he was thrusting inside of me twenty minutes ago is now in his hands.
He lifts it toward his mouth and takes a huge bite right out of the top, offering me a pointed look. I think my cheeks are on fire, they’re so heated with embarrassment.
I glance toward the others to gauge their reactions, unsurprised to find them equally entranced. Of course, Raze doesn’t care. His eyes are fixed on me, a playful gleam twinkling in them now as I squirm in my spot.
“I had no idea you could eat a cucumber like that,” Beatrix comments.
“Me neither. Damn, it’s sexy,” Jonah mutters.
If they had any idea what he just did with that cucumber, they’d be disgusted. Or maybe that would turn them on even more.
I hate what it’s doing to me.
“What are you watching?” he asks, shocking them even more with such a casual, normal question. In all the time he’s been here, he hasn’t bothered to hang out with any of us.
Ava’s response from my left is muffled by the whooshing of blood against my ears as my embarrassment builds.
This is a gross display of what happens when you allow your ego to grow bigger than your head. I can’t stand how deeply my body is responding to it. Why does the vision of his lips wrapping around the green skin of the vegetable send chills skittering down my back? How do his teeth biting into the flesh of it somehow send a rhythmic pulse directly to my groin? I’m worried I’ll start panting soon.
I should have my head examined. Surely, there’s something wrong with me for getting this worked up right in front of my friends. I mean, there was already evidence of that when I allowed him to put the damn thing inside of me with Jonah mere inches away.
Springing up from the couch, I send Lola leaping across the floor as I run for the stairs to put some distance between myself and the man who seems hellbent on making a slip and slide out of my panties.
“What’s her deal?” Beatrix’s question follows me up the stairs mockingly, sending my feet into overdrive.
When I get to my room, I slam the door and fall onto my bed in a huff.
There is absolutely no way I’m going to survive living with him if he’s like this.