His kiss tastes like me and sweat, but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around his neck as he unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out. He lines himself up and thrusts into me in one stroke. As he rocks against me, rattling my desk, I claw at his back, desperate for more. He shoves up my shirt to cup my breasts and our tongues tangle wildly as he pushes me into near oblivion.
It’s not long before my orgasm is ripping through me and I scream, bowing my back and gazing up at the ceiling as he continues, chasing his own release. He tenses, and I know he’s close. Instead of coming inside, he pulls out and strokes himself until he erupts onto my thighs.
As if he’s marking me.
I slump back against the wall and he leans over me, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of my hips. We catch our breaths, not saying anything, but staring at each other intently.
Finally, he says in a low, fierce tone, “You belong to me.”
“Maybe you belong to me,” I counter in a soft voice.
He doesn’t respond for a long time, but then he laughs, as if I’ve just said something funny.
“Silly little masochist, I don’t belong to anyone” he assures me. “Least of all you.”
But I don’t believe him. He’s putting on an aloof façade, but it’s bull. I decide not to call him on it, though.
I push against his stomach to get him to back up so I can hop down from the desk.
“Fine,” I say with a shrug. “Whatever. Get out so I can wash your jizz off my legs.”
I’m sure he’s going to leave after a statement like that, but he surprises me by taking my hand and leading me into the bathroom. He turns on the shower and lets the water get warm as he turns to me and removes my remaining clothes. Then, he stuns me further by undressing himself. Taking my hand again, he helps me into the shower, then follows after.
“What are you doing?” I murmur as he directs me to stand under the stream and then wets my hair.
He doesn’t answer as he grabs my shampoo bottle and turns me so my back is to him. He squirts shampoo onto his hand, then massages his fingers through my hair, paying close attention to my scalp. My eyes slide shut and I let out a little moan because it feels so good. He moves me to rinse out my hair, then repeats the process with my conditioner. I’ve never had someone wash me like this before. I feel pampered, and when he takes my loofa and pours a glob of body wash into it, I don’t fight him as he begins to wash me from top to bottom.
As he goes, he runs a hand between my legs, teasing me with his fingers, before moving to soap up and cup my breasts. He’s not really trying to get me worked up, just playing with me, but I’m squirming in his hands anyway. When he rinses the body wash off me, he turns me back around to face him and hands me the loofa.
“Your turn,” he says, without further explanation.
I stare at him a moment, a little caught off guard, but then I grab the body wash and squirt more into the loofa. He stands very still as I begin to run it along his big body. I try to keep things clinical and to the point at first, but I can’t stop myself from lingering on his abs—or exploring his broad back with gentle touches. When I reach his cock, I don’t bother with the loofa and just take him in my soapy hand. I begin to stroke him and he hardens in my grasp.
It’s a strangely thrilling sensation as his body tenses around me. I glance up at his face, and his jaw his clenched, his blue eyes flashing with need as they meet mine. There’s this desperate look to him that’s intoxicating because I’m the one causing it. I’m pushing him to his limits with just my hand, and I want to see him topple over the edge.
Leaning forward, I lap at his nipple as I continue to stroke him and he jerks in my hand. Peeking up at him from under my lashes, I can tell he likes this. I lick again, and again, his cock jolts. Putting my lips around his stiff peak, I suck as I jerk him faster and faster. He puts his hands on the shower wall to brace himself as I push him closer and closer to release. I don’t even care that I’m not getting off right now. Watching his reaction to my touch and being the tormentor for once in our fucked-up relationship is so, so satisfying.
He finally throws his head back and shouts as he comes. I keep stroking him through his climax, only slowing my hand once he starts to go soft. Without a word, I grab the loofa again and clean him up, then direct the spray of water toward the shower wall to rinse away his mess. He’s panting and he grabs the back of my hair to hold my head steady as he lowers his lips down to mine for a smoldering kiss.
Shortly after, we finish showering and he wraps me in a towel to dry me off. He grabs one for himself and slings it around his waist, then we walk out of the bathroom together. It’s late, and I’m tired, so I head straight to my bed. I’m afraid to ask Saint if he wants to stay, but he follows me and yanks my towel from me before pulling back my covers and ushering me in. He slides in next to me, grabs my waist, and pulls me back so my ass is resting against him. I hate how safe and warm I feel when he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. It’s unfair how easily he can disarm me and make me forget my anger toward him and every other fucked up problem in my world.
“You’re still an asshole,” I whisper, snuggling into him. “And you smell like Perfect Peony.”
He chuckles and I feel his lips turn up into a grin against my neck.
“I know,” he murmurs. “Now go to sleep.”
I’m too tired to fight the order, so I close my eyes and let myself drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When I wake up in the morning, Saint’s gone. I can’t help the disappointment that pulses through me, even though I tell myself that he likely had to go back to his dorm to get ready for class. We’ve spent the night together plenty of times already, and this one lonely morning shouldn’t make me feel abandoned.
I force myself to get up and get ready for my day.
I end up wishing I’d just stayed in bed.
My day is so shitty. Easily among the worst I’ve had at Angelview, and that’s only because during every other terrible day I’ve had here, I at least had Loni in my corner. She’s still distant with me, which means she’s still angry, and though I still totally understand, I honestly have no idea how I’m going to survive this place without her. If that wasn’t bad enough, though, Laurel and her bitches are extra brutal to me, bringing up the Rayfort fire and tormenting me with that horrific memory whenever they catch me walking through campus by myself.
Finally, the cherry on top of it all is that Liam’s MIA again. I’m sure it has everything to do with Saint and me, and that makes me feel so guilty, I almost resent him for it.
By the time I trudge back to my dorm room that night, I’m exhausted and emotionally depleted. I’ve also never felt more alone in my whole life. I don’t have Loni right now, not really, Liam’s gone again, and Saint didn’t talk to me at all, in or out of class.
That last one shouldn’t hurt so bad, but it does. It really, really does.
I make it to my room, and all I want to do is curl up under my covers and shut the entire world out. Maybe also binge Netflix on the new laptop I was able to borrow from the school’s library. I lock my door and strip out of my clothes to put on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. I grab my computer and a bag of cookies I have stashed away and am just about to crawl into my bed when a knock on my door makes me pause.