I feel her muscles locking, her breath hitching, and I stop right when she's about to come. Instead, I fish around in the front pocket of my hoodie for the condom I put there earlier. I rip the packet open with my teeth, refusing to let go of her mouth, and I fumble until it’s rolled all the way to my base. Fisting my dick, I press the tip right at her entrance.
"Are you looking at him?" I growl.
She nods against my hand.
"Good. Keep doing that while you come on my dick."
I push hard inside her, and even my hand barely stops the moan she's desperate to scream.
I fuck her slowly, making sure I don't shake the bed too much. Rolling my hips against her, I relish the way she trembles and tightens. I kiss her shoulder, wanting nothing else but to feel her entire body against me. I'm slow, steady, and let her push back with everything she has. With every thrust, she's forgetting a little more about him, even though he's right there, sleeping a few inches away from us.
"Don't wake him up," I say as I feel her starting to unravel. It's too much for me, and when she squeezes my dick with her orgasm, I come with a harsh grunt, fucking her until she's taken everything out of me.
I slowly pull out, rolling onto my back as she does the same. Blinking in the dark, a smile on my face, happiness and satisfaction keep me high just a little longer. Soon, darkness is going to take over my mind again, and I want to enjoy seeing clearly while I can.
Nyx just lies there, in her own bed, between two men. But only one thoroughly fucked her. Only one gets those beautiful orgasms out of her.
"Poor Nyx," I whisper. She startles when I grab her hand, but I don't let go. "It's going to be so hard to pretend you love him now."
Chapter Twelve
Nyx
Eté 90 – Thérapie TAXI
My legs are shaking when I walk down the hallways on Monday morning without a violin. Eyes heavy from crying all weekend, I'm arriving half an hour early to speak to Miss Rivera and explain my situation, but the truth is, I know she doesn't have to be understanding. The least you can do when you call yourself a violin player is to own a fucking violin.
When I woke up on Saturday morning, Chase had already left, and when I went to get the cash from my bag, it was gone. I have no idea if he took it back or if my dad stole it, which is something he does often. I was too scared to ask Chase. If I tell him the cash is gone and it was because my dad took it, it could get my dad in trouble with him. I can't take the risk.
Most students arrive fifteen minutes early to prep their instruments, so I should have time to speak to Miss Rivera alone. I take a deep breath in front of the doors, push the heavy oak open, and look near the conductor's platform. She's not here. In fact, no one else is.
Or so I think until I shut the doors.
"Morning, Nyx."
I startle, turning to the last row of seats in the audience. Achilles is sitting there, his hair messy, black locks framing his eyes. He's wearing a hard leather jacket on top of a gray tank top, that gold necklace with an ‘S’ pendant falling over the neckline.
He cocks his head to the side, inquisitive steel eyes on me. "On edge again, I see."
I gulp, hating that he's right. I'm on edge. I'm always on edge. Always jumping at the smallest things. And the worst part is that he's already figured out why. Somethingshappened, and I'm terrified of the world. Of everyone. Anyone could hurt you at any moment, ruin your life. Break you. I wonder if he realizes that.
"Come here," he says in a soft voice, tapping the folded red seat next to him. The one on his other side has something on it heavy enough to keep the seat open.
"What do you want now?" I huff, but I still approach.
Weirdly, your mind and body start to get seriously confused about someone when that person gives you the biggest orgasm of your life. But Achilles doesn't need to know that. He's enough of a self-satisfied asshole as is.
He keeps looking at me expectantly until I roll my eyes and finally sit down next to him. His hand comes to rest on my right thigh instantly, and for once, I don't jump out of my own skin when someone touches me. The shock at my own body’s reaction has me shaken to the core. His hand is warm, resting just under the hem of my uniform skirt. Even with the tights, it feels like he's directly touching my skin, and I've got the sudden urge to cross my legs and press against my clit.
Well. Shit.
"You look upset," he tells me, dragging my gaze away from his hand to his face. "Talk to me."
"Why are you acting like you didn't do something to upset me?" I throw back defensively.
He shrugs casually, licking his lips. "Oh, I'm not. I did something to upset you on Friday, but you're not upset about that. You enjoyed yourself way too much."
I can't even call him a liar because he's right. In fact, my heart beats a little quicker when he's around for different reasons than before. The first times I saw him, I was star-struck. That's why my heart was racing. After that, I was terrified. Now…I can't put my finger on it exactly, but it's close to excitement. Too close to my liking.
