Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
THORNE
I’d give anything to be with Chance and Warren right now, burying myself in one of their tight holes while I suck the other one off. I wonder what Warren feels like, how tight he is. I haven’t so much as gotten a finger in his ass to see what he’d feel like strangling my cock.
Soon.
It’s been weeks since we started fucking around and Chance is the neediest fucking bottom I’ve ever met in my life. For a man that’s never taken dick, he’s fucking gagging for it, hopping on my cock or Warren’s anytime we’re alone.
But Warren needs a deep dicking, especially after the shit that’s going on with whoever was leaving letters for him.
Since he’s gotten his personal cameras, no one has left any letters, so we all figure it was frat guys that know they can no longer get away with their bullshit. They’d better hope I don’t find them. I’ll take their fucking heads off for scaring Warren.
Orion hasn’t been able to duplicate whatever was done to the school cameras or find the lost footage and for the first time, emotion bled through our conversation when I asked him about it. He’s mostly a robot except when we’re talking about some nerdy shit he’s into. Or killing.
Instead of being with my guys, I’m in this boring ass Triple Integral class, listening to the professor try to explain shit to people like they’re five. It’s not hard, at least not for me, but everyone around me is struggling and it’s really pissing me off.
Why enroll in a class you’re going to bomb in? Triple integrals isn’t a beginners class by any means, so anyone sitting here has to be genius level.
At least some of them.
Chance’s frat brother, whose breath I almost choked from his body, sits a few rows behind me, chatting away like this is a fucking midnight social. If I weren’t following along with the lesson, I would have snatched him out of his chair and tossed him down the stairs for being fucking distracting.
I’m sure he won’t be passing this class on his own merit. His type usually pay for their grades or ask daddy to fix it for him so it’ll look good for his job applications. Though I’m sure he’ll call in a favor to get hired too.
Scoffing, I go back to sketching a design on a part of my forearm that’s not covered in ink. A four-leaf clover with SZ under it. The clover is some kind of geometrical thing that popped in my head this morning. Maybe Knox can tattoo it for me one of these days.
I pull out my phone and snap a picture, then send it to him.
Me: You got me?
He texts back right away.
Knox: Yeah. Let me know when you’re free and I’ll squeeze you in.
“Mr. Zilman. Would you care to explain why you’re on your phone and not paying attention to my instruction?”
I raise my head slowly, glaring at the professor. It’s actually fucking crazy of him to call me out for using my phone when Priest hasn’t shut the fuck up the entire time we’ve been in class.
The professor fidgets, swallowing roughly when I simply stare at him.
Clearing his throat, he says, “Right, then. Do pay attention.”
He goes on to teach to the handful of people that are actually paying attention, his voice holding a visible tremble.
“So you’re scaring professors now?” Priests asks in a voice that doesn’t carry.
I glance back at him, seeing his dislike for me etched in the lines of his downturned mouth. His eyes blaze with anger, but he’s not reckless enough to do more than talk. I showed him what happens when people put their hands on me. He’s in no hurry to do it again.
Smirking, I say, “Professors and students. You know something about that.”
He and his buddy scoff and shake their heads, but don’t say anything further as class wraps up.
By the time I’m packed and out of my seat, both the professor and Priest are gone.
Fucking cowards.
As I walk the halls of the university, I wonder what my guys are doing. Chance is probably in class, but I think this is one of Warren’s free periods.
Smiling, I head to his office, wanting to make him sweat as I kiss him against his door, drive him insane with my hand down his pants while students and teachers alike walk on the other side.
Would he like that? Would he think it’s too far?
Only one way to find out.
Rounding the corner to the hall where his office is located, I stop in my tracks when I see him leaning against the door, talking to the very average-looking professor, a smile lighting up his face. The professor likewise smiles, her face pink as she nods at something he says.
Why is Warren so fucking happy to be talking to her? That’s the same smile he gives to me and Chance.
Yeah, not fucking today. That shit won’t fly with me.
Anger pounding through me, I approach Warren and Professor Cooke. Warren sees me and his eyes brighten, and if possible, his smile widens.
There it is. What separates me from her. But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. The way he looked at her, I don’t like it. He doesn’t look at anyone like that but me and Chance.
Who he fucking belongs to.
“Mr. Zilman. How are you this morning?”
“I’m here for our meeting, Professor,” I say in a hard voice, my eyes narrowed on him. “You said meet you here, right?”
“Ah, yes,” Warren says, not even a flicker of doubt or uncertainty on his face. “Professor Cooke, I have a meeting. Thank you for checking on me.”
“Of course, Warren.” She smiles sweetly at us both before she walks away.
Once we’re inside Warren’s office, I push him against the door, pressing my body close to his. “Why the fuck were you talking to her?”
He looks both afraid and aroused; the combination teeing me up in a way I never thought possible. “Who?”
“That woman.” There’s nothing wrong with her gender, just her as a person, standing so close to one of the men that belongs to me. “Why was she so fucking giddy to be standing next to you?”
His brows dip, but Warren shakes his head, giving me a soft smile. “Thorne, I’m not…there’s nothing going on with me and Barb. We’re friends. That’s it.”
“That wasn’t a friendly smile.” I ease my hand up his throat and tighten my grip, loving how his eyes widen in shock. “That was a smile that says you fucked her. Did you fuck her, Warren?”
“No. She…she asked me out a few months back.”
I hum in agitation. “So she wants to fuck you.”
Warren rests his hand on my wrist, his touch sending a jolt up my spine and my cock strains against my pants. “Maybe. But I just want you and Chance. You’re who I want. No one else matters.”
The look he’s giving me right now, with his wide, expressive green eyes, the honesty in his gaze, I know he’s being sincere.
But it’s not reaching me like it should. He shouldn’t have smiled at her like that.
Bending to his lips, I kiss him hard while applying more pressure to this throat. I kiss him until he’s breathless and panting, but I don’t care. I want him to know who he belongs to and how much I don’t fucking share with anyone that’s not Chance.
When I break the kiss, Warren blinks slowly, his eyes dazed and his lips swollen and cherry red.
“Who do you belong to, Warren?”
“You and Chance. Of course,” he whispers, his mouth parted while he pants.
“Damn right.” I kiss him again, grabbing his cock in a hard grip. I jerk him roughly through his pants. Warren moans into my mouth, trying to break the kiss, but I don’t let him, moving my hand from his throat to grip his chin.
I dip my tongue into his mouth, lapping at him as he moans and struggles against me.
“Thorne,” he manages to gasp, pressing his hard and twitching dick into my hand. “More. Faster.” He stands on his tiptoes to get close to my mouth.
Now that he wants it so bad, I deny him, moving back and letting my hand drop from his throbbing shaft.
Warren whines, trying to get back at my mouth, but I hold his hip in a firm grip. “I’ll see you tonight.”
With a frown and a hard cock, Warren nods, moving over to his desk. “I’ll see you then.”
Leaving the office, I pull out my phone and send a text to our group chat.
Me: Tonight, 8pm at Warren’s. Looks like you both may need a lesson in who you belong to.