He bends his head until his full lips hover above my own, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, a slow grin crawls across his face.
“I needed him to believe you did it so he’d stay away from you,” he answers in the same tone he would use to order takeout. “He hasn’t listened to my requests to back off up until now, but if he thought you were a cold-blooded little executioner, his interest might cool a little.”
My lips squash together until pain shoots through my jaw. “That’s something a jealous, psychotic boyfriend might do.”
“Yeah,” he acknowledges, uncrossing his arms to nudge my nose with the tip of his thumb. I swat him away, so he pulls me against him, his strong fingers digging into the tail of my blazer. “Didn’t seem to work, did it? He’d still give his left ball for a sniff of what I enjoy on the regular.”
“Ugh.” I shove my hand against his face to push him away from me. “Good thing he knows better now.”
He’s laughing when he catches my fingers in his and brings my palm to his lips. “He’s an idiot.” His gaze is suggestive, his mouth fire when he trails his tongue from the heel of my palm to my pulse point. When a harsh breath bursts from me, he goes full-on smug, tilting his head as he says, “If he knew better, he’d know that you’re fucking lost for me.”
I don’t acknowledge his words as I snatch my hand back to myself, but he watches closely as I hold it close to my chest. “Are you setting me up to hurt me again, Saint?”
He just flashes his teeth and backs away from me.
I don’t try to chase him again.
That evening, when I get back to my dorm, I search my bathroom high and low for any cameras—a new ritual that I’ve taken to performing every time I leave my room for an extended period of time. I doubt I’ll find any, because even Nora and Ghost couldn’t be so sick as to hide them here, but I’m not simple enough not to check. Once I’m satisfied that the bathroom is clear, I strip off my clothes and step into the shower, turning the water on cold.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Saint and what he and Liam did all day. To my horror, however, my reasonable, mature side hasn’t managed to work up any true disgust at their actions. But my lustful, animalistic side has just grown hotter and hotter at the thought of Saint defending me like that. I hate myself for it, but I’ve been focused on that bastard all day.
God, what has he made me into?
The cold water makes me shiver, but it doesn’t dampen the heat burning between my legs. Fuck. I don’t want to give into temptation. I don’t want to sink so low as to get off on someone else’s pain, but my body just won’t listen to me.
When I can’t take it anymore, I switch the water to warm and give up. I’m so weak, but when I cup my breasts and pinch my nipples, imagining that it’s Saint’s large hands instead of mine, I find I don’t actually care. Throwing my head back, I let one hand slide down my torso while the other continues molding and groping my breast. Spreading my legs, I slip my fingers toward my clit, pressing against it with the pad of my finger and begin to rub.
It’s good but not enough.
I’m too used to his fingers and touch. It’s been so long since I’ve masturbated, it feels foreign and awkward.
Still, I keep going, conjuring Saint’s image and loathing myself for it.
If he were here with me, he’d probably shove me up against the shower wall and touch me into oblivion. Or, he’d drag me to the bathroom sink and place me on the counter, dropping to his knees so he could do that thing with his tongue.
A small moan escapes my lips at the thought.
Once he’d made me come, he’d take me by the waist and put me on the floor, turning me around to face the steamy mirror. Pressing his hand in between my shoulder blades, he’d push my chest down against the countertop, then take me from behind in one swift motion. He’d make my teeth rattle.
And I’d scream for him.
I don’t want to draw it out. I want to come and be done with it so I can put Saint and his violence from my mind. When fantasy Saint comes inside me, I lose it. As my own orgasm rips through me, I cry out, my voice reverberating off the shower’s tiled walls. I wait until the aftershocks have passed and then finish washing myself off.
Stepping out of the shower, I dry off and quickly dress before stepping out into my room. Because of the camera dilemma, I’ve been careful not to be naked anywhere other than my closet and bathroom but I’ve yet to find any more than the two I discovered when I caught him snooping around my room after my dinner with Nora.
But still…
Creeping out of my bathroom at last, I release an exhausted sigh as I towel off my long hair. I consider looking for surveillance gear again—just in case—but I’m so tired, I think I might just lay in bed and be so boring, Ghost and Nora won’t even bother to watch what I’m doing.
As I’m moving toward my bed, there’s a knock on my door. I freeze, my heart rate instantly skyrocketing. A beat passes, then the knock comes again, more forceful this time.
I nearly sag with relief when I see it’s just my masturbatory fodder towering over the threshold, his forearm resting against the doorframe and his blue eyes already stabbing into mine.
“Expecting someone else?”
“You sound a little jealous, Angelle.” But I shake my head regardless, folding my arms over my chest to hide my braless chest before anyone happens to see us. Softly, I add, “I wasn’t, for what it’s worth. I’m just … jumpy.”
Silence plunges over us, and he stares at me expectantly, the toe of his Converse rapping impatiently on the hall floor. “Are you going to let me in?”
My thoughts jump to the cameras that could still be hidden somewhere in my room, and I know I can’t let him in. If Nora sees him with me, I don’t know what she’ll do. She might hurt Jenn just to get her point across, and I refuse to let that happen.
“Actually, I’m feeling pretty tired and I’m on my period,” I lie, scratching at my chin as I focus on the numbers on the door behind him so I won’t have to make eye contact. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay.”
His arm drops from my doorway to snare my chin. When he guides my focus to his face, he’s clearly unimpressed at my rejection.
“Good thing I don’t give a shit what you think,” he says, reverting to his most asshole-self. He pushes past me, and I’m helpless to stop him. He’s far too big and determined.
“I hate when you do that,” I snap, turning on him and letting my door fall closed. “I hate when you just run me over when I disagree with what you want.”
Blowing out a breath in an exasperated huff, he makes a face at me. “Then save us both the time and headache and just give in when I tell you what to do from the start.”
I curl my hands into fists, barely keeping myself from running forward to attack him.
“What do you want?” I demand. Maybe this’ll satisfy Nora. If we’re fighting and he’s forcing his way into my room, she can’t accuse me of disobeying her. It’s out of my hands.
Unless, of course, she sends Ghost after him again.
I rock slightly on the balls of my feet at that thought.