30
LUTHER
Thane Rorvik
Nyx is going to tutor me in Politics. And I’m going to help her with wielding.
Roth Kovacs
When?
Thane Rorvik
After she’s done auditing the air affinity class.
Killian Hastings
I call next.
Thane Rorvik
You don’t need tutoring.
Killian Hastings
But we do have Chem labs. Two birds, one stone.
Roth Kovacs
Both of you go. Watch her.
I have to mute the group chat for the rest of the day, because I can’t stand to see them simp for this girl. Thane’s fixating on her. Killian won’t stop running his fucking mouth. And Roth refuses to shut it down. I swear to fuck, she’s going to get us all killed. Just because our families have been quiet since Saturnalia doesn’t mean we won’t eventually pay for spending the break at Thane’s estate. Not only that, but with the Governor’s Gala in a couple months, they’ll descend on Dreadhurst and we won’t have any way to escape. If they get even a whiff of any weakness or distraction because of her, we’re all fucked.
The only thing that shakes the sense of dread that follows me over the next day is the raging lust from yet another evening sparring with Nyx. No matter how hard I try to scrub her scent off my skin, it’s imprinted on my brain, just like the memory of her curves makes my palms itch. Steady food and exercise have transformed her from thin and fragile into someone who I could—fuck.
Who I could break apart and put back together piece by piece.
My cock throbs as I shower, just like it has every night after we’ve sparred for the past seven fucking months. And I stroke it, just like I have every night for the pastseven fucking months. Not even the shame and guilt of stalking her through the trees at the Ostara bonfire the other night, watching as she kept her distance from everyone else tempers my craving. She didn’t drink. She didn’t dance. She didn’t do anything. Just… watched everyone else. She should have been out there with the other witches. But she’s a smart woman. She learns from her mistakes, like thinking she’d be safe at Samhain. Like wearing that stunning fucking dress.
By the time I’m done washing my hair, my dick’s at half-mast because I’ve fucking Pavlov’d myself by jacking off with leftover conditioner every night. I start stroking from root to tip untilI’m fully hard and massage my balls with my other hand. As I concentrate on the tip, twisting my fist and swiping my thumb over the tip, a trail of precum leaks with every stroke and I’m once again grateful the running water conceals my increasingly heavy breaths.
I imagine everything I’d do to her.Everything. Throwing her down on the bed so she’s on her hands and knees, ass in the air. Pulling up that black dress, seeing her naked ass and dripping pussy begging for my tongue. I’d spread her open and fuckingfeast, edging her over and over until she’s limp and sobbing and desperate to be filled. Then I’d turn her ass cherry red and hilt myself into her body with one stroke, mounting her like a goddamned animal. She’d cry out and writhe beneath me, setting off every primal instinct to rut into her, to brand her insides so she’ll never forget me. I’d bring one hand to the front of her throat and the other to her clit so she couldn’t get away, wringing orgasm after orgasm from her trembling, shaking body and tasting the tears running down her cheek. Burying every inch of myself as deeply as I can.
The thought of her stretched around me, flooding her with cum until it drips around the tight seal of her swollen pussy around my cock is what finally tips me over the edge. My cum runs down shower wall as I keep stroking, trying stay in the fantasy of how I’d pull the dress off her limp body and running my hands over her sweaty skin. Massaging her breasts, trailing my palm down her stomach and pressing on her pelvis to feel my hard cock still inside of her, right where it belongs. I’d cover us with the blanket and wrap my arms around her, falling asleep to the slow rise and fall of her chest.
The ache in my chest as the fantasy fades takes my breath away, because I’ll never fucking have that.
Killian’s had her, even if he doesn’t remember it.
Thane’s had her.
If Roth decides he wants her, he’ll have her.
They’re the Heirs.
And I’m not.
The next three weeks are a waking nightmare. I see her twice a week, but I hear about her every. fucking. day. With Killian and Thane having class with her, and Roth reserving them a private study room in the library, I don’t go a single day without hearing her name. They’ve ignored my warnings about the Legacies noticing their attention wavering. Nyx is the only one who seems to agree with me about not getting any more involved if Killian’s complaints about her continuing to rebuff him are true. Which pisses me off even further.
