That moment when you realize someone else controls not just your body, but your body’s response.
It’s terrifying.
Exhilarating.
And the filthiest thing I’ve ever wanted.
Chapter 24
Haven
We’re five minutes away from campus when my mind finally stops replaying today’s fuckfest long enough for a different memory to slide in.
I was supposed to pass on Nora’s message.
“Shit,” I hiss, eyes closing as I pinch the bridge of my nose. I guess if it’s that important, she’ll call him back. I just hope he plays along with the whole ‘study group’ thing.
Kai was staring out the Uber driver’s car window, fingers curled against his mouth. When I open my eyes, he’s side-eyeing me.
“What?” he mumbles grumpily when I stay silent.
“I had to tell Bastian something,” I whisper back.
Kai lets out a mocking chuckle. “Yeah? Like how you want to marry him and have his babies?” he says in a low voice.
I glare at him. “You’re just sour because he can’t knockyouup.”
I catch the Uber driver watching us in the rearview mirror as I turn to look out the window, but I ignore him.
My fingers go to my neck, stroking my skin.
Bastian had a pair of bolt cutters in his garage he used to cut the collar from my neck. I laughed—okay, maybe I giggled—when he asked if I wanted to keep it as a souvenir.
Fuck. Maybe Kai’s right. Something seriously fucked up happens in my head whenever I think about Professor Rooke.
But Kai’s just as fucked up.
He put up a fuss back there with all that gagging and retching, but his dick was hard before I even touched it.
I shift in my seat, huffing out an irritated breath. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whisper.
“What?”
I throw Kai an exasperated look. “You get cum in your ears?”
He flicks a frantic look in the Uber driver’s direction.
I roll mine. “Still in denial, huh?” I hold up my hand, curling my fingers against my palm so I can check out my nails, using my thumbnail to wedge out a sliver of paint embedded in one of my cuticles. “You know, you’ll have to come to terms with your sexu?—“
Kai grabs me and hauls me over the seat so quickly I squeal in surprise. When I try to push away, he just grips me tighter, until our bodies are flush.
He took the seat behind the driver, I’m assuming so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with the guy during the trip.
“Let go,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” he grates into my ear, pinching my hip so hard I gasp. This close, his eyes fill my view, luminous with anger. Confusion. And shame.
When I see it, my shoulders droop. But fuck him if he expects me to treat him like a delicate fucking flower.
