Chapter 16
sixteen
“But if you have the chapter notes, I’d be grateful if you could email me— Ouch!”
The wiry kid from my psych class is ripped off his feet and slammed into the painted concrete wall. His skull thuds against it hard enough to make me flinch. Aiden’s forearm pins his windpipe, jaw set, spit lacing the words.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Huh?”
“What’s your name, other than deadman?” Aiden sneers.
My pulse spikes. The guy had asked me one question. One. I don’t even know him, though he looks familiar. But the Asshole-In-Charge’s wrath ignites like dragon’s breath.
“G-Gray.”
“Gray.” Aiden jerks his chin toward me. “You see this slut next to you?”
Gray’s glasses slip down his thin nose, but he doesn’t dare look. “Yeah?”
“That’s the last time you look at her. I’ve always wondered what eyeballs would taste like, and yours look luscious. Feel me?”
I tug at the iron bar of his arm, veins thrumming under my fingers with riotous rage.
“S-Sure, sorry. I was asking her a question about class. It’s not like I was extracting her organs or anything.”
We both blink. What? Our eyes meet, a silent agreement passing between us that this guy might be more clueless than dangerous.
Aiden tilts his head, but takes a step back from him, then snags my hand in his. “Great. Disappear. Be gone.”
Gray grabs his bag, shoves up his glasses, and vanishes toward the cafeteria.
Aiden doesn’t slow. Fury steams off him as he grips my waist and steers me into the women’s restroom, his legs propelling mine forward. With a quick scan of the room, he flips the lock on the door and tosses his backpack and pea coat onto a hook.
“I was just—”
“Don’t,” he says, one finger up to his lips. “No words. No excuses. I told you not to speak today. I said you’re not allowed to talk to other men this month. Do you remember that?” Each word is a slow advance until the tile chills my back. The ice in his eyes makes my skin prickle.
I love him like this.
My head bobs in a quick nod.
Standing only a few feet from me, eyes locked on mine, he tugs his belt buckle open, then whips the leather out of the loops of his jeans, folds it in half, and snaps it several times. I flinch at every clap in the air.
“Say it.”
I shake my head, not understanding. “W-What?” I whisper.
“Say the safe word.”
“C-Crest?”
“Crest.” He nods while biting his lower lip. A beat passes. Tense air. Dry mouth makes it hard to swallow. Heart pounds erratically against my ribs.
Then, he moves.
In a breath, my waist is caged in his arms. I squirm hard in his hold, but his giant body is immovable. His full weight pins mine to the sink counter, shoving my thighs wide. My skirt flips, my ass bared to the cold air.
One hand shoves the side of my face into the soppy laminate, reeking of cheap soap. His other rears back. And the belt lands in a sharp kiss of fire.
“Oh, fuck!” My scream ricochets off the walls, pain searing across my skin.
“Was your goal to get me harder than steel? To make me so full of rage I’d fuck you senseless in this bathroom?”
A smile curls over my lips. It hadn’t been, but it is now. “Yes, fucker. Did it work?”
His response is another swat, this one on my opposite ass cheek. Tears dislodge from my eyes. The burning streaks across the skin are so soothing, I can’t hold back a broken sob.
“Do it again,” I whisper.
A growl grinds out of his chest. The belt comes down twice more, each time followed by his hips ramming forward so I feel the solid, pulsing length of him right where I need it.
“Please,” I breathe.
“I’m not making blisters. Not today.” His voice is molten steel. “You want stripes? I’ll lock you in my pillory and thrash your ass until we can hoist you up a pole on Flag Day.”
“Do it.” I want his hate inside me. Filling me. Etching itself into my skin until the only thing I feel alive from…is him.
Aiden noticed me. He wants me so much, he’s doing this to my skin.
The clank of metal on the floor makes my tears dry up for only a moment until my lungs seize. He tugs my panties aside and shoves his full girth inside me. Not bothering to check if I’m wet.
But I’m already drenched.
His fingers lace around my throat as he pulls me up until I have to face us in the mirror. Streaked mascara, snot, red cheeks, smeared lipstick. Eyes wet with lust and madness. My reflection gasps.
“Look at you, baby girl.”
I look like I’ve been ruined.
I look like I want more.
His hips slam forward, burying so deep the image in front of us ripples in my vision. A hand slaps down right where the burn is the worst, forcing my eyes to squeeze shut. The grip tightens on my throat until I have to rip them open again.
“I know you pretend to hate this…but you secretly love it, don’t you? You know how I know?”
For only a moment, he bends me over, folds himself over my back, and thrusts savage and deep. Until every scrap of discomfort I had melts into a shattering pleasure.
Wrenching me fully upright, back to chest again, he lifts one of my thighs high on the counter. His thick balls slap against my cunt and clit in a rhythm that shortens my breath into shallow gasps.
If he keeps going like this, I’m going to come harder than I have since Red Night.
His mouth hovers so close I can feel the tingle of it on my lips.
Every canter of his hips sends shock waves through my spine. An inferno of fire flares between our bodies. He’s so deep, I can’t breathe, and each time he delves in, it’s another punishment for being alive.
In a gruff whisper, his voice tickles my ear. “Because you killed for me, Ashlyn.” His voice holds the rasp of an owner’s pride. “You’re one kiss away from falling in love with me.”
My fingers dig into his arms, my mouth seeking his. Please kiss me. Please… I beg silently, needing him desperately. He holds his lips only a sliver from mine. Neck strains to meet him with every thrust, but he continues to deny me.
I growl through clenched teeth, and in that space—fury, agony, ecstasy—I detonate.
Pleasure surges through every nerve ending.
Pussy clenching down on his entire length, holding it where I need it.
My release rips through me in a primal yell, spilling into the inches between us.
And my full breath launches into his flushed face.
His hand clamps the back of my neck, eyes on mine like a scope as he drives into me, harder, deeper, until his own grunt breaks loose. The hot flood of him fills me to the brim—hate and want indistinguishable.
The way his palm cups my entire skull, the other locking my waist like a man anchoring a restless animal—fingers dug in, promising they won’t let go—makes my muscles quake.
What if Mutton was right? Because the way that Aiden’s looking at me right now?
Maybe he could love me again.
Or maybe I’m delirious from oxygen loss and the high of being fucked with his instrument of punishment.
He blinks. Breathes once, twice. Then slides out of me, the heat between my thighs instantly replaced with cold air, and his cum oozes down them until it tickles. He zips himself up, pushing me back a step, as if he remembered something more important than me.
“Let’s go.”
Still catching my breath, I smooth my skirt down. “I need to clean up first.”
His gaze snaps to mine, jaw tightening like I told him I was moving to another country.
“I want you to wear what I gave you inside. Be uncomfortable.”
“Do you want me to get a UTI?” I tilt my head. Ever the sweetest smile. Worn like a weapon.
Hands on his hips, he sighs through his nose and glances at the stall. “Fine. I’ll wait here. Do what you need. Make it quick.”
I don’t.
I take my precious time peeing, blotting, finding the least scratchy way to remove the mess he made. The mirror catches my smirk after I exit the stall. His reflection is a dark silhouette leaning against the door, impatiently watching. Waiting irreverently.
Paying attention to my nail beds, I wash my hands delicately and thoroughly in the sink.
When I finally close the tap, he snags my wrist before they’re dry, jerking me toward the hall. “Done wasting time?”
“For now,” I hum, only to watch the muscle in his jaw tic.
We step out into the corridor, Aiden with my bag on one arm and his on the other.
The low hum of conversation and the echo of footsteps from other students, intruding as if nothing had happened.
But I’m still raw between my legs, and the ghost of his handprint is blooming on my ass like a bruise-shaped signature.
I’m sure everyone can see the peek of it from beneath my short skirt.
“Where are we going?”
“Library.” His daddy voice leaves no room for argument. “You’re going to start studying for classes.” Warm hand firm and steady at the small of my back, he guides me like I’m an unruly pet. “I expect straight As, Ashlyn. You’re smart and capable. Anything less means you’re wasting your potential.”
“Mm. Or maybe I’m busy wasting your time.”
He tugs the wooden door open and leans in close enough for his breath to feather my ear. “And I won’t tolerate that, either.”
On the second floor, he steers us to a long table topped with emerald-hooded pull-chain lamps where a few Thetas I recognize from Greek events are camped out—Tade Kim, the vice president, among them.
Tade gives us a single nod before turning back to his textbook. No one else speaks. This is the sports crowd. Football, hockey, swim team… The jerseys only get a handful of minutes between classes and practice to cram, and they treat each one like gold.
Aiden drags an armless chair out for himself and settles in. I move to claim the one beside him, but his arm snakes out, hooking around my hips and hauling me sideways onto his lap.
“Right here,” he murmurs, adjusting me until I’m locked in place. “So I can watch you.”
I roll my eyes and reach for my tote bag. “May as well get me one of those kid leashes.”
His mouth curves—not quite a smile. “Don’t fucking tempt me, baby girl. You’re already on thin ice.”
Like some tutor from hell, Aiden hovers over my shoulder as I pull out my math sheets.
His thigh is a solid wall under me, every shift of muscle telegraphing itself through the seat.
One arm slung around my waist tells everyone in the room exactly who I belong to.
The moment my pencil drifts toward the wrong digit, I feel the twitch of disapproval ripple through him.
“Do you want to do this for me?” I whisper, not looking back.
“It’s simple, Ash. Look.”
His tone grates, and for a moment, my brain goes stubbornly blank—irritation drowning out whatever he’s saying.
But then he takes the pencil from my fingers, his hand brushing mine with deliberate possession, and works through one problem.
Then another. I see it, the shortcut. Efficient. Clever. Infuriatingly useful.
I snatch the pencil back with a sneer. “Thanks,” I mutter. “I need water. And a stretch.”
When Tade leans in to whisper something about Theta business, Aiden’s attention shifts enough for me to slip from his lap. I raise my arms like it’s no big deal, wander a few paces away, though his eyes track me—sharp, warning—to not push the boundary too far.
Around the corner, a water fountain hums. I lean down, sip until the metal tang is gone, then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. A shadow eclipses the light. Expecting my keeper, I roll my eyes.
Except it’s not him.
The guy in front of me is rail-thin, milk-chocolate hair cast in an artfully careless wave, clothes cut sharp enough to nick a finger.
And a wallet. But it’s his eyes that make me pause—ringed dark, like he hasn’t slept since the semester started.
His scowl looks like it’s been living on his face for years.
“Oh.” My pulse hiccups. “Excuse me.”
He shifts his weight and uses his body to block my exit. “You bitch.”
My eyebrows jump. “Who the fuck are you?”
“You got my friend drunk and killed him.”
My mind rifles through enemies like a deck of cards. “I don’t know—”
“Julien was nothing but kind. A great man. And you gave him all that alcohol.” His voice scrapes like gravel. “Yeah…bitch. He told me about you.”
I’m shaking my head before he can finish. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ashlyn Donovan, right?”
“You’re talking about Julien Ellery? Who are you?”
His figure blocks me in, but I feel like one knee to his groin, and he’ll go tumbling down. Besides, my Doberman of a man is right around the corner.
“Rowan. His friend.”
“Well, Rowan. He never mentioned you. And I didn’t give him any alcohol.”
“Sure you didn’t—”
Aiden’s presence drops over us like a storm front, his face a darkened glower, sinew flexing under his fitted black T-shirt. Warmth pools low in my stomach at the sight of him.
When I glance back to wish Rowan luck at surviving the next thirty seconds, he’s already vanished.