“What—” she says.
“The deal was rather simple. I asked for you to come when called and suck me wherever I ask. I asked for red lips. I asked for enthusiasm. You fulfilled one out of four requirements. I fulfilled all mine, and promptly, if you recall. I’m not going to bother with a shit blowjob.”
She inhales sharply. “I didn’t mean—I can?—”
“No.”
Back on her feet, she grabs my sleeve. “Wait. I just—” She bites her lower lip. “I haven’t done this much. And it fucking stresses me out to do ithere.”
“Was anyone watching?” I challenge, knowing that the answer is Nate and no one else. “Or judging?”
She shakes her head. “I guess…I don’t get why they aren’t watching.”
“Because some of us aren’t prudes. Good night, Trueman.”
“Please,” she whispers. “I can do better. I will, I swear.”
I consider my options. I could let her off the hook. I could just fuck her face and get it over with, rather than letting her work out how to suck a cock when she clearly hasn’t done much of that. But this entire dynamic between us isn’t working. She acts like she’s a victim submitting herself to my depraved demands, as though she didn’t get the better end of our bargain by a large margin. I could have demanded to fuck her ass every day for the entire year and she would have said yes. We both knew that in December. She needs to remember it.
“Next time,” I tell her, turning on my heels to head upstairs.
I give it five minutes before I start watching her return towards the dorm. She starts to cry in the elevator. By the time she’s in her room, behind her locked door, she’s shaking, bringing her knees to her chest.
I don’t often watch her in her room. I only set up the cameras for her safety after reading her ex’s unhinged threats to drag her back home before she blocked him.
I struggle to convince myself to remain where I am. I wanted to teach her a lesson, yes, but this reaction is a million miles away from what I would have expected.
Of course she’s losing it, dick. She thinks you’ll get her expelled.
I open my texts, and write quickly.
Me: Practice on a banana. A big one. Use your hands. Eye contact would be nice. And you can drool—moisture helps you and me.
It takes several moments, during which I watch her stop crying to stare at her phone. A sigh of relief I don’t hear escapes her lips.
Lily: Thank you.
She’s thanking me for giving her blowjob tips. I groan as I throw my phone onto my bed.
The whole botched blowjob debacle ought to have put an end to my interest in that woman. She sucks at sucking. I bet she’s also a dead fish in the stack. I should not care one way or another.
I look down at my cock, hard all over again now that I’m imagining her practicing for me. “Well, that plan sucked.”
8
LILY
I’m miserable when I wake up, and that doesn’t improve until Dez discounts my order once again, letting me have a latte and a croissant for the price of my last e-book.
“You’re an angel,” I declare, making her chuckle.
“An avenging angel, maybe. Speaking of. How is it going with the legacies?” She tilts her head toward a group of them laughing at one of the bigger corner tables by the window.
Cross isn’t one of them, but I can feel myself blush all the same. Were they there yesterday? Do they know what I did? I keep expecting people to come up to me and call me a whore, imagining lingering glances, but when I actually look, people seem to be minding their own affairs, completely ignoring my existence. Like that botched embarrassment never happened.
“Nothing I can’t handle. I…” I clear my throat. “I fucked up a bit. Made a deal, didn’t really bother to do my part well.”
“Ha.” She winces on my behalf. “They do like their deals, legacies. Been there. We live and learn. Hang on—I have something for you, so long as you keep it between you and me.”
