Teal: I did not.
Ronan: Sure. Whatever helps you sleep better at night.
I can almost imagine his smirk, and I want to smash his face and this stupid feeling of embarrassment with it.
Ronan: Night, ma belle. I’ll dream of your orgasm face.
I throw my phone to the side, seething, my heart beating so hard it’s nearly dangerous.
He thinks it’s fine to play with me? He’ll see what playing means.
9
Ronan
There’s this thing about breaking habits that messes with the human brain.
Or that’s what Cole says. I believe him, anyway, because he reads more than the pope reads the bible.
My point is, breaking my habits is what’s making me weird. I can see it loud and clear now.
I went from throwing a party every other night, smoking my stash of weed, and fucking exotic girls to living like a priest.
The partying part can be overcome. Not only does Lars no longer bitch at me to stop, the absence of night fun also means Mum is home. I get to have breakfasts and dinners with her every day. Needless to say, her presence matters more than all those other strangers who only exist in my life because I have money and status.
Mum being here also means Dad is around, too, and that kind of sucks, especially since he’s been watching me more closely lately.
Lars and I have put on an Oscar-level performance each time he’s asked about a missing item.
Or rather, I put on the performance and Lars follows along. It’s become our thing since that night.
The excuses usually follow the same pattern of What? We had that? We must’ve given it to friends.
Dad reminds me that we don’t have that many friends, and I tell him of course we do. They just visit when he’s not around because they seem to love me. It’s like he’s baiting me to admit something, and for some reason, it doesn’t feel like he’s interested in the partying part.
The only untouched things are Mom’s paintings, which she’s spent years collecting. She studied art before she had tremors and had to stop drawing altogether.
Or maybe that’s the version of things my father came up with to convince her to remain a housewife — or rather his bloody secretary, whom he paraded around the globe.
Anyway, back to the point, the lack of sex is the reason behind the shitshow a few days ago at La Débauche. If I’d been fucking like a normal human being, I would’ve never had those thoughts about Teal or sent her those texts.
Or dreamt about an affair between her mouth and Ron Astor the Second.
Now is the time to fix it.
Then, I’ll corner her and have her visit my father and tell him all too politely that she’s breaking off the engagement.
I drag Claire behind me to a storage room at the back of the library. She giggles as we sneak through the rows of books.
Claire is one of the few I’ve fucked more than once. As long as I bring her to orgasm, she lets me do whatever I want.
Except what you really want to do, you mean?
Shush, thoughts.
As soon as we’re away from prying eyes, I flip Claire’s dark brown hair over her shoulder. “Strip for me.”
She licks her lower lip and I wait for her to refuse, but she throws her uniform’s jacket away then unbuttons her shirt. I reach into her lacy bra and twist her nipples, and she sighs.
Sighs? Really?
I ignore that and tease her nipples some more. She leans into me, breathing with delight. Fuck, it’s like I’m caressing her.
Not like a certain someone who detonated all over the floor after I only touched her nipples.
But this isn’t about her.
I lift my hand and grab Claire’s jaw then open her mouth using my fingers.
“Do you want me to blow you?” Claire asks in a sultry voice that’s…wrong.
So damn wrong.
I can’t even get Ron Astor the Second to wake up for her.
I-I’ll be good.
Her voice barges into my mind like a fucking train wreck.
“Say I’ll be good,” I tell Claire.
“I’ll be good.” She runs her tongue over her upper lip and fingers my tie. “Aren’t you like sooo overdressed, though?”
“That’s not the tone.” I smile. “Say it right.”
Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
It hits me then like doom with all the damning sounds. It’s not her voice that I want to hear or her face that I want to see.
In all the years I’ve been fucking my way through the female population, I always had that sense of dissatisfaction. I brought them to orgasm and had mine in return, but there was always something missing.
I ignored it for years, pretending it was wrong.
But that night, when Teal rubbed all over my stomach, I realised what I’ve been missing.
It’s the depravity of the act.
I have never in my life been as hard as I was while her body was wrapped all over me.
And I mean fucking never.
Since he witnessed that scene, Ron Astor the Second has become picky and refuses to get hard for anyone.
It’s not Claire’s fault; it’s his.
I’m about to push her away when the door opens. Light comes through the slight crack before those slender fishnet-stocking-covered legs come into view.
Teal is breathing heavily as she glues her back to the door, closing it behind her, and clutches her chest, seeming oblivious to her surroundings.
She bends over, her harsh breathing filling the dim space, but I can make out her dishevelled state, the parting of her lips even as her hair falls on either side of her face.
Is she having some sort of an attack?
Now that I think about it, she’s always had these moments where she disappears to the middle of nowhere and no one can find her.
“Um, excuse us?” Claire places a hand on her hips, turning slightly to face her. “This spot is occupied.”
Teal’s body jerks, her head snapping up. The blackness of her eyes appears even more desolate with the lack of light.
The moment she sees me, her expression softens, but it only lasts for a second. The rest of the scene in front of her becomes clear — Claire half-naked, my hands on her chest — and just like that, Teal’s features turn into a blank façade.
Unfeeling.
Empty.
She wants me to think none of this affects her? Fuck that.
“I didn’t know anyone was in here.” She starts to turn around.
“You can stay and watch.” I smile. “Right, Claire?”
The latter nods, too eager to end this and go tell her friends she fucked Ronan Astor. Girls here use me and I use them back — win-win.
Teal doesn’t make a move to stay.
Someone is running away.
My lips rise in a smirk. “Unless something about it bothers you?”
“You flatter yourself.” She faces me fully, her hands hanging limp by her sides.
“How about we give my fiancée a show, Claire?” I grin at her. “She’s a bit of a voyeur.”
I think Teal’s jaw clenches, but it disappears all too soon.
“Absolutely, Ron,” Claire says breathlessly.
“On your knees, love.” I’m speaking to Claire, but my attention is on the girl by the door. “Suck me off and make it good so my fiancée can get some pointers.”