Saige
Dax drives way too fucking fast the entire way back to campus, laughing when I grip the door handle because he's scaring the shit out of me. I don't know how far behind Nolan is, but I know we get back to the house twenty minutes faster than usual. Dax gets to park in the garage, so when we pull up to the house, I spot Elias's car parked out front.
Great. We're early—it's not even noon yet, so I expected him to still be in the city. Unfortunately, I'm not so lucky.
"Hey," Dax says when we step inside. He grabs me by the waistband of my jeans and pulls me into him before kissing my lips. "You get to help me with my homework now."
Luckily, Elias is in his room, blaring music with the door closed. He probably doesn't even know we're here.
I sigh. "Really? I spent all day yesterday doing my own andElias's—"
"It's my art homework; you barely have to do anything," he says. "And you did kind of destroy what I was planning on submitting for my end of semester project."
"Ididn't destroy anything."
Dax shrugs. "You brought him here. Come on."
He grabs a barstool from behind the counter, effortlessly holding it overhead with one arm, and heads for the staircase. I groan in protest before following him upstairs and into his room.
"Strip," he says, setting the stool down opposite his easel.
I start putting the pieces together in my head. "No way."
"Yes way," he says. "Come on, this will be the easiest thing you've done for us this week. You just have to sit there. It's better than washing Elias's cum rags."
I grimace. Is he telling them? "How did you know about that?"
"Nolan told me about the rubber gloves; it was a guess. Honestly, I'm not surprised. I knew his weird obsession with you had to be sexual."
"Please don't say that."
"My weird obsession with you is definitely sexual, by the way." He winks at me, and I can't help but smile. "Sopleasejust take off your clothes."
"All of them?"
"All of them."
I sigh, removing my sweatshirt first and then my jeans. "My face won't be in this, will it?"
"It will," he says. "I invite you to look slightly to the right. And make sure you push your hair away from your tits."
"How's this?" I ask, climbing onto the stool.
"Scoot to the edge and spread your legs more."
I move forward, opening my legs a little, and he shakes his head. "More than that."
He sighs, still unsatisfied, and then gets up, comes over to where I sit, and spreads my legs wide.
"Why are you blushing?" he asks.
"Because it's weird. I'm on display in a well-lit room in the middle of the day."
"I've seen it all before—bare like this, wrapped around my dick while your legs shake, against my tongue. You've got a really pretty pussy, baby."
"Stop…"
"Why? Are you getting wet?" Then he reaches between my legs, running his thumb down my bared pussy. "You are, huh? Let me ask you another question…"
