Good thing I had been born to a mobster and not the president.
I could’ve never faked it like Brooks.
“You want to ride with me?” Brooks asked.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’m taking Blair with me.”
He dropped the Rolex he had been clasping around his wrist. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” I said as he stooped to pick it up.
“Since when do you do shit like that with Fawns?”
“Consider it another form of torture.”
He grinned. “See you there then.”
I left Locker Hall and headed back to Blair’s room in her Fawn Quarters, hoping she didn’t decide to drown herself in the shower. Or slit her wrists with the razor. Both had happened before.
Not to any of my Fawns.
My past Fawns had preferred to go crazy or jump out windows like they were in fuckingPeter Pan.
After Initiation, Fawns were assigned a personal room within the tunnels. Sometimes, we’d instruct them to stay in those rooms for our convenience. Other times, if we wanted to avoid them, we’d make them stay in their dorms.
Everything depended on our moods.
Everything was always about us.
Like I’d told Blair, being a Fawn was hell, but I’d make sure she felt a little pleasure along with it.
To limit their knowledge about us and the tunnels, they had a private entrance. The hidden door I’d gone through was the only way to enter the rest of the tunnels. Most didn’t even know there were more tunnels, chambers, or even the Devil’s Lair.
While Blair had passed her Initiation, her work was far from over.
She still had plenty to prove.
She was a Fawn now and had taken an oath to me.
I needed to make sure she fulfilled that. We’d watch her every second of every day until we were comfortable giving her more freedom. I’d linked her phone and emails to my devices. When she got a call, text, or notification, I received it as well.
Not that she knew that. You never told someone you were tracking them.
I whistled as I walked, shocked and satisfied that Blair had surrendered so easily to me earlier. And, fuck, she’d tasted delicious.
The sweetest Fawn I’d ever had.
Though we needed to work on her oral skills.
While she had made me come—which I blamed on the fact that I’d been dreaming about her mouth on my cock since I’d fucking seen her—the blow job had been subpar. Her lack of cocksucking skills wasn’t a problem for me. I preferred it because it usually meant she lacked the experience of having other cocks in her mouth.
I stopped my whistling, and my cock twitched in my slacks as I imagined how satisfying fucking her would feel.
Closing my eyes, I thought of all the positions I’d take her in.
All the ways I’d give her pleasure and pain.
When I returned to her room, I found her blow-drying her hair in the bathroom. The towel was knotted at her front, and her feet were bare, still dripping with water.
