We'd lost so much. And for what? What good had any of this done? Even if I lived for another five hundred years, I didn't think I'd understand how anyone could wield their daughter like an object. I couldn't fathom forcing my son to give up everything he loved just so I could maintain my deeply corrupt political mantle and some archaic belief systems.
That, and her parents never thought I'd amount to much.
I could admit that spite had played a large part in pushing me through my university years. I loved proving people really fucking wrong.
"Because we've already lost enough to them, Audrey," I finally said. "I'm not willing to give them any more and neither should you."
She walked another loop before stopping in front of me, fury still vibrating through her. I picked up the hand she'd whacked and turned it over in mine. Her palm was red and warm. It must've hurt, at least a bit.
"I'm still mad they fucked you over."
Stroking my thumb over her palm, I glanced up to meet her eyes. "They fucked us both over."
"But you—you could've been kicked out of Columbia." She held up her free hand. "Wait.Wereyou kicked out of Columbia? Is that why you transferred?"
"No, I didn't get kicked out. Caltech was the better fit," I said quickly. "But this is our last night. I don't care about that shit anymore."
"Yes, you do. It's why you've been a snappy little snapping turtle to me since demanding I dance with you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
She gave me her best attempt at a glower. It was more of a squinting pout. God, what I wouldn't give to be on the receiving end of that every day. "I think you do."
"Nope. Sorry."
She brought a hand to the back of my neck, threaded her fingers through my hair. The robe hung open between her breasts, exposing a long, gorgeous stretch of skin. I leaned in and pressed my mouth to the side of her breast. Closed my hands around her hips.
"How do you want to spend it?" she asked.
"I've already told you my plans for this robe."
She dragged a finger down the front of my shirt. "You first."
I yanked the shirt over my head and then pushed to my feet to ditch the boxers. The robe hit the floor next. "Is this what you want, princess?"
With a hand on my shoulder, she pushed me back down to the corner of the bed.
"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. She dropped a knee beside my hip, then the other. Linked her arms around my neck as she settled over me, as she rocked against my shaft. "I think it is."
She reached between us, pumping me with the kind of slow, deep pressure that made me wild and desperate. I watched her expressions shift as she teased my cockhead over her clit, down to her wet heat. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, rocking against me with each pass.
I let my hands skate down her back, along the dip and flare of her waist, over her ass. She felt like silk and muscle and every precious thing in the world. Like promises I'd tried to forget.
I swallowed hard, asking, "Having fun with the torture?"
"It's not torture if you love it," she replied, and she wasn't wrong about that. Not for one second.
But also— "Not sure you'll be saying that when I'm done with you."
A wicked grin filled her face as she twisted her palm up my shaft. Goddamn. "Quiet, you. Let me do this."
She shifted until I was there, just barely inside her but enough that I couldn't think beyond the heat and pressure, couldn't keep my eyes open. My lips found the slight curve of her breast again and I kissed my way to her nipple. She bucked against me as I pinned her between my teeth.
She sank down on me like we weren't running out of time. The hot pulse of her muscles was enough to scramble my head and make me believe it.
When she was there, when she was fully seated and I was hanging on by a single string of restraint, she looped her arms around my neck and said, "Kiss me."
The words were barely off her tongue when I bit them out of the air and closed the space between us. She tasted perfect, just so fucking perfect, and I wanted to live and die in her cunt, and it finally felt like I knew where I was going.
