I’m still cursing the prick out as I turn the shower off and grab a towel to wrap around my body, and another to wring the water out of my hair.
I should have beat him. I had him right there beneath me.
I thought— Ugh.
He was right, and I fucking hate it.
I thought I’d won too soon and I eased up.
Idiot, Emmie. Fucking idiot.
I pull on clean underwear and a fresh sports bra while rummaging in my locker for some deodorant.
A knock on the door startles me, and I chastise myself for being so on edge, thinking he’s going to come back.
The need he stirred in me as he stared down into my eyes resurfaces, but I stuff that desire back inside the lockbox it belongs in.
“Shorty,” a familiar voice calls out, and despite knowing better, disappointment washes through me that he hasn’t come back.
That he didn’t realise he couldn’t possibly leave after that and is about to storm in here, back me up against the lockers and take exactly what he threatened to out there on the mat while his boner rubbed deliciously against my clit.
“You decent?” he calls out again, throwing a bucket of ice-cold water over my little fantasy.
I look down at myself.
Not really. But I also don’t give a shit.
“Yeah,” I call out and the door clicks open.
“This just got delivered and I thought— Holy shit,” he gasps the second he rounds the corner and gets a look at me.
He makes a show of slapping his hand over his eyes and turning around.
“Cirillo will castrate me for this,” he mutters to himself. I’m not sure if I’m meant to hear it or not, but all it does is piss me off.
“What’s wrong, X? Not seen a pair of fucking knickers before?” I hiss.
“Don’t,” he snaps.
A smirk tugs at my lips as he stays with his back to me.
“From what I’ve heard around the club, you’re more than familiar with girls’ underwear, or more specifically, taking it off them.”
“Emmie,” he growls.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Xan. You’re being a baby.” Pulling out a pair of leggings from my locker, I drag them up my legs.
Quite honestly, I can’t see how it’s all that different since they’re skintight. But whatever.
“Okay, you can turn around.”
Slowly he does as I say, and his eyes flash with heat when they find my body.
“Not much better, Shorty.”
“You’re a pain in my arse," I spit. “What have you got for me?” I ask, remembering he said something had been delivered.
He lifts the brown paper bag that’s in his hand.
“No idea, but it smells insane.”
My brows pinch as he comes closer.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“Well, it’s got your name on it.”
Our fingers brush as I take the bag from him, and it becomes instantly obvious to me that while I might think he’s hot, he’s not the one who sends tingles and desire shooting around my body from one innocent touch. That would be a certain mafia prince who just walked out on me, leaving me burning hot for him.
Wanker.
“The only person who’s going to be making me come any time soon is you.”
I squeeze my eyes closed tight as his words come back to me, desire hitting me with the force of a ten-ton truck.
“Are you okay?” Xander asks, and when I drag my eyes open once more, I find him staring at me with a mixture of concern and confusion.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I’m good. Thanks for this.” My stomach growls loudly as the familiar scent of what’s hiding inside hits me. “And you’re right. It does smell incredible.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” he says, taking a step back. “Good fight out there though, Ramsey. You really held your own.”
“Nah,” I mutter, shaking my head. “He went easy on me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. One thing’s for sure though.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I ask, my curiosity more than piqued.
“That poor fuck is going to be hard as nails all day. That was like foreplay to the extreme.”
I laugh, but it’s totally forced.
“He isn’t the only one,” I mutter under my breath.
“Uh… yeah… I’m gonna…” He thumbs over his shoulder and continues backing away.
I have no idea what he’s expecting me to do, but he looks like a rabbit caught in headlights.
I don’t look down at the bag in my hand until the door swings closed behind him.
Lifting it, my eyes find the label on the side.
Mrs. Cirillo.
“Motherfucker,” I bark, knowing exactly who ordered me lunch.
Shoving my feet into my trainers, I wrap a hoodie around me and stick my phone into the pocket. Slamming my locker closed behind me, I march to the small staff room at the back of the gym.
Thankfully, it’s empty.
My eyes land on the bin sitting on the floor in the corner, and my fingers tighten on the bag in my hands.
The need to throw it out and forget all about it in favour of the pot noodle I pinched from the kitchen before I left the house this morning is strong.
But then I get another waft of the garlicky, sweet scent, and my mouth waters.
“Damn you, Cirillo. Damn you to hell and back with your pretty face and fucking fantastic cock,” I hiss to myself as I grab a fork and drop into one of the chairs with a huff.
Ripping the bag open, I find two of my favourite Chinese dishes staring back at me.
“Why? Why do you need to be so sweet?” I mutter, twisting my fork in the noodles before me, my stomach growling again in desperation.
My phone pings in my pocket and my heart jumps into my throat. I have no idea how I know it’s him. But I know it is.
Ignoring him, I push the fork into my mouth and groan as the flavours hit my tongue.
I have to admit, it softens the blow of losing somewhat. Although, he did exactly what I would have demanded if I’d won anyway. So maybe I did win, in a roundabout way. I just wish he could have taken the memory of him pinning me to the mat with him.
With a growl of frustration, I stuff my free hand into my hoodie pocket and pull my phone out.
His Lordship: Eat up, babe. You’re going to need your strength for your vibrating little friend later.
“Ugh, infuriating dick,” I mutter, shovelling another forkful of food into my mouth.
His Lordship: Just remember how inferior it will feel compared to the real thing.
Unable to stop myself, I start typing.
Emmie: Aw… you still hard and lonely?
I chuckle as I hit send and see it’s read immediately.
Stabbing a piece of shredded beef, I pop it in my mouth, only for me to choke on it two seconds later when a photo appears on my screen, proving that my previous comment was bang on the money.
Emmie: Jerking off in the school toilets. That’s desperate, Cirillo.
His Lordship: Would you rather I do it in class?
I’d rather you do it over me, but whatever.
I roll my eyes at myself.