I tug at the zipper of her hoodie, shoving it down her arms, revealing a snug cotton T-shirt and hard points of her breasts poking through the thin material.
She isn’t wearing a bra.
Christ.
“You go to an advisory meeting without wearing a bra, Wren?”
She bites her bottom lip. “I felt like it today.”
The knowledge starts a rumble in my chest, sending a rush of white hot desire to my groin. My cock is so hard I can’t hold back any longer. I retrieve a condom from my pocket, and once I sheathe myself, I hoist her up and waste no time plunging inside of her.
Her thighs are locking around my waist, her weight settling against me as I press her back to the wall, my hips punching forward to get my cock inside her heat.
Lifting up the material of her T-shirt, I bare her breasts and lower my head to feast on her nipples while I pound into her. I am in so deep, I can’t even tell where we are anymore.
“Kieran,” she moans, her heels digging into my back.
“Say my name again,” I growl, the obscene, wet sounds of our fucking filling the empty room.
“Kieran, please. Harder, please.” Her chest heaves with shallow breaths. “Ah, God,” she cries out as I thrust into her with wild abandon, her scream melting into a shaky sob. She grips me desperately as she tightens around me, riding out her orgasm, pulsing.
Once the waves subside, she buries her face into my neck. My balls tighten, and I let out a curse, lights exploding behind my eyes, my loud grunts mixed with her quiet sobs, our bodies pressed against one another in a sweaty embrace.
My brain is blissfully, beautifully blank.
When I finally step back, her legs slide down mine, shaky. Her eyes are unfocused, wide and dark, her mouth flushed from being mine. A pulse beats hard at her throat. She sways for half a second before she steadies herself against me, forehead brushing my shoulder as she’s catching her breath.
“Data point collected,” I manage, voice rough. “Conclusion: team morale is excellent.”
“You’re such an idiot,” she breathes. It comes out low and wrecked, like she has not quite found her footing yet. “We literally just…in an empty classroom.”
“We did,” I murmur, my mouth at her ear. “And I’m trying very hard to be a functional member of society right now.”
Her inhale is ragged, hand lifting to my chest as if she means to push me away, but it lands there and grips instead. Her thighs press together in a small, involuntary motion that makes my vision go sharp.
“Kie—” she whispers, and it is not a warning. It is a plea she didn’t mean to let slip.
That sound is devastating.
I force myself to step back. We fix what we can with shaky hands, straightening clothes, smoothing hair, grabbing her backpack off the chair, making ourselves look just normal enough to pass. I pick up my sweatshirt, tug it on, and then I’m in front of her again, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
“You good?” I ask, softer.
She nods once, still pink, still wrecked, still trying to pretend she isn’t.
I crack the door and listen. The hallway hums with distant voices and footsteps, nothing close. I tug her gently after me, and she lets me lace our fingers together again.
We merge into the flow of students like we did not just break every rule in the handbook.
25
KILL SWITCH (KIERAN)
Outside, the quad is bright with late-winter light, snow melted down to dirty mounds at the edges of the walkways. It’s subtle, but I feel it—the shift in attention. Heads turn. Conversations dip, then pick back up.
“Is it me,” I murmur, “or is everyone staring more than usual?”
“I thought this was your baseline,” she says under her breath.
