A bare, sweaty chest that glistens and heaves under my fingers. Fallen bag forgotten on the ground, I look up at the striking green-blue eyes towering over me, framed by damp light brown hair. The arrogant quirk of his lips dispels his hold on me and I back up, wiping my hands on my jeans even as my fingertips mourn the loss of his heat.
“Hey pretty girl, you should watch where you’re going,” his seductive voice teases as his warm hands steady me before trailing down my arms, leaving goosebumps even through my sweatshirt.
I barely register Tori’s arrival when his lips part in a wide grin as he sees who’s coming to my rescue. Once again, I swear I’m in a dream because no real person could possibly be this fucking hot.
“Tori, darlin’, good to see you?—”
“Shove it, Killian,” she cuts him off before turning back to me. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? Fuck no I’m not okay, I’ve forgotten how to talk.
I nod and look back at Killian, only to see the lightbulb go off as he looks between us.
“Are you a new student here?” He asks with a predatory gleam, raking his eyes up and down my body. Despite being fully clothed, I feel self-conscious for the second time today under his evaluating gaze, and my shock dissipates. Even with the limited pool of fuckable men in Lynden, I’d recognize the classic signs of a fuck boy anywhere.
“Yes,” Tori answers for me with a huff of exasperation, and my chest tightens when his brilliant grin sharpens, sending chills down my spine that have nothing to do with the cool breeze wafting from the cliffs. “She just got here, which is why?—”
“Well then, welcome to Dreadhurst,” he practically purrs, leaning closer.
“Killian! Don’t you dare,” Tori admonishes, and I step back, puzzled as to why he’s fucking sniffing me.
“Don’t be like that Tori, you’ll give the pretty girl here the wrong impression,” he says with a smirk, turning his hungry gaze back on me.
“I’ve known you since we were kids, Killian. Trust me, you’re doing just fine all on your own.” He inhales deeply once more before taking a reluctant step back.
“You wound me,” he says, grasping at his chest like he’s been shot through the heart. The action reminds me so much of Colt doing the same thing just the other day that I can’t help but laugh, and his eyes blaze with triumph. “What do you say, pretty girl? I can play tour guide for you. We can start with my room,” he offers with a wink, but this time I scoff. He furrows his brows at my very real—and I’m assuming rare—rejection.
“No thanks, pretty boy,” I say, stepping around him to pick up my bag and rejoin Tori. No matter how gorgeous this walking red flag is, the last thing I want to do is draw any more attention to myself by fucking the first guy I meet. Small communities have a tendency to spread gossip like wildfire—Lynden taught me that much, at least.
“Can I at least get your name?” he calls out after me.
“You look like a smart boy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I shout, and turn my back on him as Tori ushers us down the path. When I glance back, he’s still standing there with a vicious grin, and waves at me before resuming his run in the opposite direction.
“Well.” Tori sighs. “Congrats on meeting your first Heir.”
7
ROTH
The simpering girl in front of me is taking too fucking long, and I regret opening the door in the first place. Other students know better than to come to our private apartment without explicit invitation. We made that clear after enduring a never-ending revolving door of hapless sycophants. At first, it was amusing, especially to Killian. But my tolerance is thin at best, which is why I wanted to look whoever was stupid enough to come here in the eyes to demonstrate the gravity of their misstep.
Five minutes later, I still haven't cum. Her clumsy, blushing virgin act—a blatantly transparent attempt to make herself more appealing—is uninspired. She might’ve had some semblance of technique, but I don’t break my rule for anyone: no touching. Whatever she’s doing to compensate is failing spectacularly—no finesse, no rhythm, and no reason to permit her to continue. One glance at my watch confirms she’s outstayed her welcome, because I’m no closer to unloading my aching balls than I was when she first dropped to her knees at our door.
Taking control, I hold her head still and thrust my cock deeper down her throat despite her attempts to breathe. Her gagged whimpers only spur me on and I put my hand around herneck to restrict her airway even more, waiting for the moment her pain turns to fear, and fear turns to panic when she realizes I won’t stop until I’ve taken what she promised whenshecame tomydoor. Her body convulses, protesting my invasion, and her hands unclasp from behind her back, but she has enough wherewithal to resist pushing me away. Since she’s obeying, I decide to show her a small measure of mercy.
Several rough pumps later, with her face flush against my groin, I flood her throat with cum as she struggles against my hold. She flinches when I pull out, her garish lipstick smeared across her mouth—and my skin, I realize with disgust. Sticky strands of saliva trail from her chin as I back away, tucking my spent cock back into my sleep pants.
She wobbles, trying to stand and fix her disheveled appearance. Her mussed hair has been partly torn out of the braid she arrived with, and her knees are bruised from the hard floor. Her red-rimmed eyes, streaked with mascara, lock onto me with desperate eagerness—like a small, trembling dog waiting for its master's approval.
“I expected better. Get out,” I order without inflection, and turn to the ensuite bathroom in our apartment, fingers twitching with the compulsion to erase all traces of her from my skin.
“Do you want me—” she begins before I cut her off.
Revulsion and contempt drip from my voice. “There’s nothing you have that I want.” Her face falls in confusion, and a hint of fear, at my vitriol. Good. “Especially if all you have to offer is a repeat of that disappointment,” I taunt. Fresh tears well in her eyes, falling down her flushed cheeks. The proof of her humiliation sends a rush of triumph through my veins with the urge to crush whatever sense of self-worth she has left. Her lower lip trembles, and she glances way, wiping the tears from her eyes like she has any dignity left to preserve.
“I—can I use your bathroom?” she asks quietly, but the fact that she still doesn’t know better than to further inflict her unwelcome presence means she hasn’t learnt the lesson I’ve been so generous to impart.
“No,” I say with a sharp, sadistic smile. “You will go wherever it is you should be right now instead of in my presence. You will refrain from cleaning up your mess. Let everyone see what happens to those who reach beyond their place.” I step towards her and grasp her chin, reddened skin turning white under the brutal pressure of my unforgiving grip.
