I TURN AWAY SO I’m facing my dresser, my reflection staring back at me in the mirror that hangs just above it. I’m supposed to be giving Wren privacy, so she can pull her clothes back on, but I can’t help watching her get dressed. All that creamy smooth skin on display, those perfect tits with the pink nipples that are probably still sticky from me rubbing the Blow Pop on them.
Can’t believe I did that. Or that I fucked her with a lollipop. She liked it though.
She liked it a lot.
I gave her what she wanted by going down on her, just like she mentioned to me about the porn she watched and how it was her favorite part.
Glancing down at myself, I realize my hard-on is still throbbing, and I readjust myself. Try to think of other things. The frigid temperature outside. How pissed off I got at Fig earlier.
Some of the tension eases and I take a deep breath, reaching for my hoodie and pulling it back over my head.
“I should probably go.”
I face Wren, noting how unsure she looks, her gaze cast downward, that flush from her orgasm still coating her skin.
“We didn’t finish the movie,” she continues, talking to the floor.
“Maybe you should come over tomorrow and we can finish it then,” I suggest, not talking about the movie at all.
Her lips curl into a small smile and she sends me a quick glance, clutching her hands in front of her. “Maybe.”
I’m surprised she agreed. “You definitely should.”
“What time is it?” she asks, before moving to the nightstand and grabbing her phone from where she left it. “It’s already nine-forty-five.”
“Better walk you back then.”
Her eyes go wide as she shoves her phone into her hoodie pocket. “I can walk back myself.”
I slowly shake my head, approaching her. “No way am I letting you walk back to the dorm building this time of night by yourself.”
“No one will be out there.” “You don’t know that.”
“I’ll be fine.” She pauses. “What if someone sees us together?”
Annoyances flares through me, making my erection deflate for good. It bothers me, how she doesn’t want anyone to know what we’re doing. Though what exactly are we doing? I’m not sure yet. “I won’t walk you all the way to the door.”
“I don’t know…”
“I’m walking you to your building. Stop arguing.” I go to my closet and grab my boots, falling onto my desk chair, so I can pull them on, despite the fact that I’m not wearing socks.
Wren watches me, her expression sad. “I made you mad.”
“I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. I don’t know why you have to argue with me about it.”
“Everyone always takes care of me. Teachers. My parents. Especially my dad. He’s the worst.” She lifts her chin. “I’m trying to learn how to take
care of myself.”
I lean back in the chair, immediately feeling like a jackass, but I push past it. “What if something happened to you on the walk back? I’d never forgive myself.”
She studies me, shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket. “You’ve changed a lot over the last few weeks.”
“What do you mean?” I frown. “You’re a lot nicer.”
I rise up and go to her, pulling her into my arms. “And you’re a lot meaner.”
Before she can complain, I’m kissing her, murmuring my approval when she opens to me without hesitation. Damn this girl is so fucking sexy. We are making all the right steps, and it’s all leading to exactly what I want. I predict I’ll take her virginity before winter break starts.
At the rate we’re going, it’ll be easy to get her to have sex with me.
And then what? What happens next? I forget all about her, like the other girls before her?
I don’t know if I can do that with Wren. She sticks with me. Within me. All the time.
I can’t stop thinking about her. And after what happened between us just now? Forget it. She’ll consume me. I know she will.
She already does.
When she breaks away from me, her lips are swollen, her breath hitching in her throat. “We need to go.”
“Yeah.” I kiss her one last time, then let her go, grabbing my coat while she slips on that black puffy jacket she wore over. She puts on a pair of beat-up UGGs and then we’re headed out the door, out the building, and into the bitterly cold night.
I haul her close to me, draping my arm around her shoulders as we walk along the iced-over sidewalks, our steps careful, so we don’t slip. We don’t say much, our breaths forming little clouds when we exhale, and she’s shivering next to me, despite me holding her close.
When her dorm building comes into view, I have to restrain her so she doesn’t break free of me.
“I need to get inside,” she says to me when I grab hold of her hood and don’t let go. “It’s almost ten. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
The pleading look she sends my direction has me letting go of her hood, but she doesn’t run away.
Instead, she throws herself at me, her arms sneaking in beneath my coat to give me a hug, the fur ball on her hat smacking me in the mouth. “I had fun,” she murmurs.
Fun. That’s one way to describe what we did tonight.
She tilts her head back, her gaze meeting mine. “Please don’t make it weird between us tomorrow.”
“I should be the one telling you that.” I kiss her fast, then gently push her out of my arms. “Go. Before you’re late.”
A smile crosses her lips, her eyes sparkling as she takes a step backward. Then another. Her footing slips, her expression turning downright comical, and I’m about to go catch her, but in the end, she remains upright.
“Be careful,” I hiss at her, and she just laughs. Such a pretty sound.
She turns and runs—carefully—to her building, disappearing through the double doors. I start to make my way back to my room, slowing my steps when I spot a flash of car lights pulling into the parking lot.
Odd. It’s late. No one is allowed off campus during the weeknights, unless they have special permission.
Forgetting about going back to my building, ignoring the cold, I creep closer to the parking lot, until the car comes fully into view. A late-model Nissan sedan sits there idling, two people sitting inside. I can make out their heads, how they’re bent close together, but not their features, though I recognize the vehicle.
It’s fucking Figueroa’s car.
I duck behind a bush, slowly tilting my head around it to see who might pop out of the passenger side door. Figures the pervert would take a girl off campus on a weeknight. Can’t even control himself and wait until the weekend, when the rules are lax. It’s probably Maggie. Rumor around campus is that they’ve been hooking up all semester, and I heard her boyfriend recently broke up with her because of it.
Messy.
The door finally swings open, and I wait to see Maggie’s familiar dark blonde head.
But it’s not Maggie who’s climbing out of Fig’s car. It’s Natalie.
I hide behind the bush, confused. Since when has she been hanging around Fig? She’s never been in his English classes—he tends to go for the smart ones. The vulnerable girls who are quietly desperate for attention. Yeah, Natalie’s always looking for attention, but I wouldn’t call her quiet or desperate.
Wouldn’t necessarily consider her vulnerable either. Girl goes after what she wants, when she wants it.
Maybe that’s what she did with Fig.
And how the hell does this asshole get so much pussy anyway? He must have a way with words to convince all of these girls to spread their legs for him so easily throughout the years.
He’s such an asshole. If I could, I’d beat the shit out of him for all the girls he must’ve destroyed over the years.
Piece of shit.
Natalie is headed in my direction—her dorm is in the same hall as Wren’s— and she’s about to go marching past the bush I’m hiding behind when I step out, revealing myself.
She comes to a complete halt, her eyes wide. “Crew. What are you doing out here this time of night?”
“I should be asking you the same question, Nat.” I glance toward the now empty parking lot, Figueroa’s car long gone. He didn’t even wait to see if she got inside safely. “Who’d you sneak off with?”
She turns on the sass, despite the freezing cold and how bundled up she is. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her tone is flirtatious.
“I think I already know.” She smirks, as if she’s daring me to figure it out. “Dark gray Nissan? An Altima, I believe? Pretty sure there’s only one teacher who drives a car like that. Figueroa?”
Her smirk fades, her gaze turning pleading. “You can’t say anything to anyone.”
“Are you seriously hooking up with that piece of shit?”
She glances back at her dorm building, completely freaked out when she faces me once more. “Keep your voice down.”
“No one can hear us. I can’t believe you. You know he’s been with Maggie all semester,” I tell her.
Natalie flinches. “He swore they broke up.”
“You really believe him? And what about Ezra? I thought you liked him.” “That’s all just for fun. He likes to flirt.” She shrugs.
I shake my head. “You’re fucking with him. I thought you were nicer than that.”
“Come on, Crew. You know better. I’m not nice.” She turns away from me, heading for the dorm building.
Like a complete idiot, I follow after her. Yeah, we hooked up in the past, and yeah, I also find her annoying most of the time, but she needs to watch out. Figueroa is a piece of shit. Only out for himself. “You need to watch out for him, Nat.”
“Oh, watch out for him?” She whirls on me, her expression fierce. “We need to watch out for all of you. That’s all guys want, am I right? A quick piece of ass, then you dump us. At least Fig is a man. He knows how to treat a girl. Make her feel good. He’s not some insensitive asshole like the rest of you.”
“Oh, come on. You really believe he’s something special because he’s an adult? He’s a middle-aged predator who fucks around with underage girls. He finds new ones every single year, and I don’t know how the piece of shit doesn’t get caught.”
Her eyes are wide and she’s panting, she’s so upset. “It’s not that deep, Lancaster.”
“Right. That’s why you look ready to tear my eyes out for insulting your pedophile hookup. Do you really care about this dickbag, Natalie? You need to wake the hell up.”
She comes for me, her fists swinging, screeching at the top of her lungs. I duck, avoiding her fists, grabbing her with both arms and holding her against me as she struggles and fights. She’s calling me all kinds of names, and I swear to God she’s sobbing.
Pretty sure I’ve never seen Natalie cry.
“You’re such an asshole, Lancaster!” she screams, and I’m about to cover her mouth with my hand to keep her quiet when a bright white light flares on. A cluster of people exit the dorm building, flashlights illuminating us.
“Natalie? Is that you?” one of the women call.
All the fight leaves her as she sags in my arms. “Oh shit,” she whispers.
