I caress her breasts through her blouse, those full, perfect tits that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since that day on the wall. They’re burned into my retinas like the flare of a lightning strike. Her nipples poke stiffly through her bra and I have to free them. I undo one button, then two, then rip the third one open, yanking down the front of her bra to let her tits spill out in my hands.
The moment I touch her breasts, Zoe goes limp against the wall, like I’ve taken control of her. She lets out a long, tortured groan that I stifle with my left hand, while cupping and squeezing her breast with my right.
Her flesh is soft and firm, the nipple a delicate tan color, flushing darker with every touch of my fingers. I bend my head to take her breast in my mouth, and she bites down on my hand covering her mouth, moaning helplessly.
Once I start going down, I don’t want to stop. I drop to my knees and scoop up her thighs, laying them over my shoulders. Hooking my finger under the elastic of her panties, I yank them to the side and bury my face in her pussy.
Zoe is pinned to the wall, lifted up with her legs over my shoulders. My face presses hard against her. I eat her pussy like I’m starving.
I’ve never tasted anything so sweet. Zoe is already soaking wet. My tongue slides between her lips, then all the way inside her. I find her clit and I gently suck and swirl my tongue around it, until Zoe makes a sound that’s almost like sobbing, and I can tell she’s covering her own mouth now, trying to stifle her whimpering with both hands.
It’s impossible. Her pussy is warm and throbbing, and she’s getting wetter and wetter as I slide my fingers inside her and tease her clit with my tongue. She grinds against my face, her thighs squeezing my ears. She won’t be able to hold on for long, I’m going to make her explode like nothing she’s felt before.
I lick her clit with the flat of my tongue, over and over again, steady and hard. My whole face is smeared with her wetness and I don’t give a fuck, no one has ever smelled or tasted better than this girl, I’d take a fucking bath in her pussy if I could.
I find that sensitive place inside of her and I stroke it with my fingers while I lick and swirl her clit with my tongue. When I find that perfect combination where she starts to clench around my fingers, where she’s not in control of her hips or her breathing or anything else, then I hit it again and again and again while she cums all over me.
Now there’s no keeping quiet. Zoe’s whole body shakes like she’s possessed. She lets out a strangled scream through her hands that is the sexiest fucking sound I’ve heard in my life.
I keep licking her, a little more softly now, until I’m sure that every last pleasure shock has surged through her, and her full weight has collapsed on my shoulders.
Then I set her down gently, standing up to smooth her sweaty hair back from her face. Zoe is crying, actually crying, a double track of tears running down the sides of her face. I feel a stab of guilt like I did something wrong. I wipe my mouth off on my sleeve and take her face in my hands to kiss her, saying, “Are you okay, Zoe?”
“I—I—I’ve never—never felt anything like that,” she stammers, her teeth still chattering together, and shivers running through her body in waves.
“It was good, though?” I ask.
“G—g—good doesn’t begin to describe it,” she says.
I still have her pinned between the bookshelves—not to trap her now, just because it’s quiet and hidden, and I want her to feel safe, I want her to feel like we’re the only two people in the universe.
Zoe burrows against my chest, her face pressed against my neck. I keep my arms wrapped around her and I stroke her back with the palm of my hand, trying to calm her down, soothing the shakes away.
I didn’t intend to have this effect on her.
“I’m sorry,” Zoe’s muffled voice vibrates against my chest. “I’m embarrassed. I don’t cry, usually.”
“I know you don’t,” I say, tilting her chin up to make her look in my eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. You can be however you want in front of me, Zoe. I like you all the ways. And that was sexy as fuck, by the way. I want to do it again right now.”
Zoe laughs weakly. “I don’t know if I could survive that.”
We stay exactly where we are a few minutes longer, whispering and laughing together. Then, when Zoe can stand again, I help her gather up her books to head down to her first class.
“Oh god,” she murmurs. “I’m sure Miss Robin heard that.”
“She wasn’t around when I came in,” I say.
“Still,” Zoe says, her face pink. “I wish I had a paper bag to put over my head.”
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “I’ll distract her while you sneak out.”
I walk a little ahead of Zoe, checking if the coast is clear.
Miss Robin is indeed back at her desk, and by the way she peers over the top of her glasses at me, I’m sure she heard something.
“Miss Robin,” I say, “Could you check if anybody put an International Taxation textbook in the lost and found? I think I left mine here.”
Miss Robin gives me one, slow blink that is much more cheeky than I’d expect from our timid librarian, then says, “Certainly, Miles.” She turns to search the lost and found bin behind her desk.
While she’s occupied, Zoe hurries by, quiet in her flat shoes on the thick carpet. I get the feeling Miss Robin can hear Zoe anyway, because she spends an abnormally long time hunched over the box, pretending to search the well-organized and easily-perused pile of objects.
Straightening up empty-handed, Miss Robin checks to see that we’re truly alone, then says, “I’m not an idiot, Miles.”
I give her half a grin, hands stuffed in my pockets. “Sorry, Miss Robin. I’m sure you remember the recklessness of youth. I don’t think you’re too far out of it yourself.”
She smiles slightly in return, but it only lasts a moment before she says, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Miles. This isn’t a game for her.”
“It isn’t for me, either. I promise you that.”
She examines me with those dark eyes that contrast so sharply with her vivid red hair. The glasses have slipped down her nose again. She doesn’t need them to give me an x-ray stare.
“I believe you,” she says at last. “Be careful all the same.”
“I will.” I nod.
I do intend to be careful.
But I can’t promise to be safe.
12
Cat
The first challenge of the Quartum Bellum takes place at the end of November. It’s a slaughter—possibly the most physically wretched day of my life.
We all knew what was coming, because for weeks beforehand we watched the grounds crew building the obstacle course outside the castle: a Rube Goldberg machine of ropes, pulleys, pillars, walls, trenches, nets, and moving parts. We’re meant to be the balls rolling though. But this machine is designed to spit us out, not guide us along the path.
The requirements are simple: a race from start to finish. Every single member of each team has to make it through before their time is counted.
Still stung from the upset the year before, it’s clear the upperclassmen plan to play dirty. From the moment Professor Howell fires his pistol in the air and we all bolt off from the starting line, the Juniors and Seniors have no problem knocking the younger students off walls and kicking us into the mud. I hoped their antipathy would be directed at Leo’s Sophomore class, but they seem just as determined to make sure that the Freshmen stay where we belong: in last place.