That’s what takes me to the precipice, sending the wave of an orgasm shuddering between my legs. I’m quiet, gulping my pleasure down, but Sebastian is anything but.
He bites out a sharp, “Oh, fuck,” and groans, slamming a fist into the ceiling. His hips thrust harshly upward, lifting me with him. His razor-sharp jaw tenses and then he exhales, head falling back on the seat.
He never looked away from me once.
It’s in that post-orgasm haze that my stomach drops. The panic floods my chest like rolling waves, building and building. I fumble away from him, limbs shaking.
“Hey, hey, no,” he rushes out, tensing beneath me. “Sugar, just wait.”
I push against the driver’s side door, releasing the latch and tumbling outside. Too stunned by his own orgasm—or possibly the simple fact that I’m just a freak—he doesn’t move quickly enough to stop me. And like I should have done when I first walked into this garage, I run, and never look back.
13
Sebastian
Sugar Voss wants my dick.
Just thinking about it kept me up all night—both my dick and my brain. Even three jerk-off sessions later, I’m still thinking about it. About Sugar. About how she totally wants my dick.
Sure, she ran away after getting a small preview of it, which is unfortunate. With girls, I’m usually the one bailing after the post-orgasm glow fades, but you know. Whatever. I didn’t do anything wrong here.
She kissed me.
She climbed into my lap.
She wanted my dick.
And yeah, she looked fucking gorgeous when she finally let go for a second and let me help her feel good. For a moment there, she actually stopped fighting. Whatever the hell it is that always holds her back was just… gone. Fucked off to orgasm land, I guess. But then just as fast, the wall was back, and there she went. Skittering away. Again. Leaving me with spunk-soaked boxers.
The problem is that I’m just really—fucking monumentally—confused here.
I can’t get it out of my mind when I walk into Dr. Ross’s class the next morning. Naturally, my eyes go right to her seat. It’s not like I wasn’t always checking her out before, but now everything’s jacked up to eleven. I know what she tastes like now. I know what she looks like writhing in my lap. I know that her cheeks get crazy pink when she’s turned on, a lot like when she’s pissed off. Most of all, I know the way her face looks when she comes, and fuck. It’s breathtaking.
I’d almost written off having her altogether. She wasn’t budging. I was just making shit worse and worse, and weirdly, if I couldn’t fuck her, I still wanted to know her. Now that she wants my dick—fuck, I’m so pretty, not even the Ice Princess herself can resist this shit—all the cards are back on the table.
If I thought I wanted her bad before, then now I’m like a man possessed.
I cross the room, eyes sweeping over her, taking in the soft curve of her calves in direct contrast to the worn leather of her combat boots. Her hair is shielding her face like a curtain, so I can’t make out her expression. She’s been wearing this wide leather wrist cuff and it undulates as her fingers twirl a long strand of her hair. I want to ask her what the fuck, but there’s no time.
Dr. Ross will be walking into class in about thirty seconds, and as much as I’d love to corner Sugar and demand to know why she bolted like that, I’ve got other shit to worry about. I take a moment to enjoy the very last of my ‘Sugar Voss wants my dick’ elation, because I’m pretty sure that’s about to come to a swift end.
I whistle, catching most everyone’s attention, but it’s Elana and Afton I point to, jerking my head toward the hall.
Afton holds my gaze and pinches her cheeks, getting them all red.
Then, she starts crying.
Like full-out sobs, snot and tears and all. It’s borderline scary how she can do that shit on-demand, but I give her a loose, appreciative salute as she rises from her seat. Elana swiftly moves to follow her, both of them disappearing into the hall to distract Dr. Ross.
I gently close the door behind them.
A good female-drama crying jag will probably buy us five minutes.
Reynolds is in the back, already raising his chin at me in acknowledgement. Right-o. Time to find the lucky victims. Not that it’s hard. Pierce’s crew all sits in the back corner, clustered together like a goddamn knitting circle.
I snap to get their attention, ignoring all the other prying eyes. “Pierce, Tharp, Brennan. Get out your phones and line up against the wall.”
The three of them blink back at me like morons.
“What?” Pierce says, face blank. “Why?”
I shrug. “Because I asked so nicely. Chop-chop, fuckwits.”
Brennan crosses his arms, reclining back in his seat. “I don’t know what this is about, but I’m not one of your sheep.”
“The thing is, I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’m doing this in front of someone I don’t particularly want to do it in front of.” I gesture vaguely at Sugar, knowing she’s watching me. Knowing this is probably going to erase all the work I’ve done in convincing her I’m not some asshole bully. It fucking sucks and I’m not in the mood for it. “So how’s this? Either you get out your phones and line up against the wall, or Reyn and I will come back there and get them ourselves.” I leave the threat unspoken, but it still comes through.
Reyn pipes in, “I guarantee to you that this is the only way you leave class today with phones still in your pocket.”
Pierce is first because he’s a pussy. Tharp follows because following is what Tharp does. Brennan puts up a token protest, but ultimately lumbers from his seat, face angry-tight.
“This is bullshit. You’re not the campus police.”
“Police,” I say, sending Reyn a grin. God, these guys are lucky I’ve had so many orgasms in the past twelve hours. Otherwise, this impulse I’m feeling to feed this motherfucker his own teeth might be too much to resist. “Ah well, we could call the police instead. They’d probably be really interested to see what you’ve got on your phones. Pretty sure that kind of video gets you put on a list, best case.” I know instantly that they know what this is about. They all go shifty and start lining up against that wall real damn quick. “Go on, unlock them. Faster would be nice.”
Dr. Ross isn’t going to suffer Afton’s histrionics for too much longer.
Reyn and I double-team it, going through Tharp and Pierce’s phone first. The video of Georgia—recorded during her Freshman year—is there. This thing has been following her around for years now. You can’t see her face. No one except the Devils actually realizes who it is. But Georgia knows. She knows whenever she hears guys talking about it just whose tits, moans, and ass they’re whispering about. She always knows and it fucking destroys her, every single time. Apparently, these three had been ‘discussing’ it a couple days ago, sending her into a tailspin.
No one fucks with a Devil or a Plaything.
No one.
So I delete it. But I also go into his media history and cloud storage to make sure there aren’t any copies there, either.
Brennan’s phone is a goddamn landmine. “Jesus,” I groan, seeing way too much of this guy’s dick. “That’s just nasty.”