There was a small section of books dedicated to the architecture and history of Castlehill, and most of them I had read before, but not this book.Ashthorn: Myths and Legends.
I took the book off the shelf and flipped through the pages, and it seemed like a book written on fables and myths, like the title suggested. But there was a map inside with landmarks that madeit interesting. I doubted it would give me much insight into who my great-grandfather was, but it was worth a shot anyway.
Tucking it under my arm, I scanned it out, then walked to the stairs to find brothers James and Declan York walking along the thoroughfare through the castle.
Standing on the top step, I barked like a Yorkshire terrier, echoing through the spacious building and drawing everyone's attention. When the fair-haired fuckers looked up, I saluted and shouted too cheerfully, “Top of the morn to ya, lads,” and unsurprisingly, they gave me a scowl and the middle finger for my efforts.
Sickle was right.
It’s going to be a good year.
9
I stayed in my room, listening for the sound of footsteps,hoping it was Mila, because I felt sick at the thought that she might think I had done it on purpose. But that made no sense. If I wanted to hurt her, which I don’t, why would I do something that would point right back to me? I’d do it secretly. I’d leave the cupcake at her door anonymously instead of actually swapping the thing.
But it was her idea to swap the flavors anyway, so if the razorblade was planted on purpose, it was meant for me. I couldn’t get past that thought. I was deeply sorry that Mila wascaught up in whatever happened, and that’s why I wanted to talk to her in person.
She hadn’t answered my messages, and I took her silence as a sign that she blamed me. I stood at my window, watching cheerleaders practice on the park as the sun sank below the mountains, casting us in a cold shadow. It was just after 4 PM, and I figured it was miserable in winter, but my stepmother warned me to bring thick, warm jackets and thermal underwear.
Again, my gaze found the neatly cut high hedge at the far end of the field just as a couple emerged holding hands and looking smug like they had just gotten out of there. Nice for some.
My mind drifted to the guy at the end of the hall, the metalhead, and I wondered if he was single. He was attractive with a nice smile, mischievous eyes, and maybe we could get to know each other. Without thinking, I moved my hand between my thighs, thinking of him while watching the happy couple walk across the grass.
Bizarrely, my urge to leave and clean this room grew stronger when the tall, dark blond Warwick guy jogged onto the field with other jocks and friends. You’d think I’d calm down, not get more turned on by that tall, muscular body and annoying face. God, such an irritating face.
My fingers moved over my jeans, directly over my clit, and I was surprised at how sensitive it was to my subtle touch. With my stare fixed on that shitty jock, my body shuddered, eager for me to go deeper.
My hand slid down between my jeans and warm, smooth skin, and as soon as my cold fingertips touched my throbbing clit, I gasped, causing a shiver to run down my thighs. My legs turned to rubber, and I placed my other hand on the window frame to support myself because the sensation overtook me completely.
I hated having to see him—the arrogant, camel-piss, piece of shit—doing this to me. So I shifted my thoughts back to themetalhead down the hall, who was hot. Really hot, but in a different way than the jock. No. The jock was not hot at all. God, why did I just think that? He was the most irritating man I’d ever met, and that was only for a few seconds. Imagine sitting beside him in class or worse, living with the asshole. I’d have to stuff my ears with Kleenex so I wouldn’t have to hear his deep, fucking irritating voice. Loser.
Oh god, why was this making me so fucking horny? Prick. God, look at that asshole run, fucking arrogant ass running in those sweatpants, big hands grabbing the ball, broad shitty shoulders.
My eyes closed as I imagined both men, the metalhead and the arrogant jerk, going at me at once. Two pairs of hands everywhere, two pairs of lips, two tongues, two pairs of eyes, tearing over my body.
I could almost feel their touch as I slipped my fingers inside my sodden core, while using my thumb to work my clit. Imagining the metalhead, stripping my jeans down, dropping to his knees and biting my butt cheeks, while the Warwick prick kept his mouth on mine, big hand between my legs.
In my imagination, he then bent me over, and the metalhead penetrated me with his cock while I took Warwick’s big cock in my mouth. I moved over my fingers, getting caught up in this wondrous dream, and my juice dribbled down my thighs.
Hips jolted with every imaginary thrust from the boys, which drove my fingers deeper. I pulled up my sweater and slipped my right breast out of the cup of my bra and played with my hard nipple as I bounced on my fingers.
Rubbery legs, body on fire as the surge came hard and fast, and my entire body froze, and I held my breath to the point where I thought I wouldn't get it back. Then the floodgates opened, and the orgasm trembled through my body, and I gasped, louder than I intended, but that’s okay because I was completely alone on the entire floor.
Wow, that was an intense, scorching orgasm—one of the best. Thinking about a man I hated actually helped me get aroused and wet. I pressed my forehead against the doorframe to catch my breath and gather myself, then pulled my sticky hand from my pants.
As I zipped up my jeans and turned away from the window, I noticed someone on the park staring in my direction. I was only one floor above ground, so if they looked my way, they might have seen what I was doing.
Panic hit my stomach as it dawned on me who was watching. That mischievous gaze. That square jaw. Bulging, apple-sized muscles in his arms crossed over his chest, body relaxed in a movie-watching vibe—except the movie was me finishing, thinking of him.
Ezrah Bloody Warwick.
Staring directly at me.
But for how long?
Did he see everything?
Oh god, this was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me.
