I shuddered through my release, moaning Judge’s name until I had nothing left to give. My sack was completely drained.
Judge stood and leaned over my shoulder, showing me his soaked palm before he licked it clean. He groaned as he sucked his fingers one by one. “Yummy.”
My mouth parted, and my dick twitched but faltered, too soon for it to rise.
He helped me with my underwear and pants. My knees shook, and he grabbed my elbows, turning me to face him. “How was that?”
I let out a quiet half sob, half chuckle and laid my head against his shoulder. He buckled my belt—Well, really his belt, I was only borrowing it.—and I snuggled closer. “I died and I’m in the afterlife.”
He laughed and kissed my hot cheek. “Not yet, Rookie. We’re just beginning.”
Once he knew I was all right, which he asked several times, he kissed me on the lips. He tasted musky and tangy and the slightest bit salty. As a goodbye he slapped my ass before he left the aisle I was in, and I peeked over the top bookshelf to watch him as he tilted his head at Jury. Whatever his brother was saying to Bryce was cut off, and Jury winked at Bryce before he followed Judge out of the library.
When my Sir was gone, I let myself slide down the shelves until I sat on my ass. My knees were still wobbly and my heart was racing. What had I gotten myself into?
8
JUDGE
Jury lounged on my bed,watching me adjust my black tie. We looked so much alike, sometimes it was weird for me. When I was a teenager I used to stare at him and get a wobbly feeling in my stomach, wondering if we were really ghost halves of the same person, and I went through a strange existential angst period. Thankfully the depression that chased me when I was fifteen was long gone, but I’d put a lot of thought into my brother and what he meant to me. Now... I was making room in my life for someone just as important, and I had no idea how to talk to Jury about it and wasn’t sure I should.
Jury’s brown hair was slightly curlier and darker than mine, although most people wouldn’t notice. He had a blue dot in the green iris of his right eye, and a small, nearly invisible scar curled on his left temple from crashing into a tree on his bike when we were eight. For months I’d hated that fucking scar until it began to fade because it made him different from me. When we were younger, my brother was my life. I’d followed him around and obsessed over the clothes we would wear. I’d forced him to practice shooting baskets and drill in math with me, and eventually he took over as the homework dictator, but it had beenmewho pushed us into parallel workout routines. I loved him so much, and for a long time he’d been the center of my universe.
But sometimes he fucking annoyed me—like now. He was clearly judging me. “Fuck off.”
He rolled his eyes.
Glaring, I tugged at the sleeves of my black suit coat and turned to look in the mirror on the back of my closet door. I brushed back my hair in a half-hearted attempt to make it do anything different, but it parted in the middle and went toward my eyes the same way it always did unless I cut it short. I shrugged and whirled to face Jury, who had begun to scroll on his phone.
“Well, what do you think about my plans?”
He sighed and let his phone flop beside him on the bed while he shifted his attention to the ceiling.
“Dickwad!”
“What?” He scowled and sat up a bit to glare.
“You’re ignoring me.”
He rolled his eyes and flopped down on my bed again, wrinkling the green quilt. “Papa and Dad’s friend is coming over for dinner, it’s that artist they love to rant about knowing to the people in the wine club—Truth Duke. He’s interesting, he’s hot, maybe you should just bring Mr. Goddard here. Not many people can say they’ve met Truth Duke.” Jury waved his phone around as if to emphasize his idea.
I went over and kicked his foot until he kicked me back. “Are you high right now? And stop calling him that.”
“What?”
“Mr. Goddard.It’s Flynn.”
He huffed. “They’re going to meet him sometime, better sooner than later. You know how Papa is. If you don’t tell him, he’s going to feel like you lied to him. The same way—”
“Don’t bring this up.” I pointed at him and spun back toward the mirror to tug at my tie even though it was perfect.
“The same way he acted like you committed a murder over your classes getting all messed up last year.”
“It was a scheduling mishap. What did he want?” I shrugged at Jury in the mirror, and he narrowed his eyes on me.
“You’re going to be at an expensive law school an extra year because of it, and you didn’t tell him.” He sat up to glare again, but I flipped him off.
“So?”
