Page 92 of If You Dare

I leap to my feet, ready to sweep her up and kiss her, until I spot the reason she’s smiling.

Some redhead guy with a douchey haircut and a sweater vest.

She smiles and nods, unable to take her eyes off him as he talks. Her book is clutched to her chest, pushing her tits up like she wants him to take a look.

My fists clench.

She’s got to be fucking kidding me. Last week, she was saying she’s falling in love with me. Now she’s about to go hop on some other guy’s dick?

Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough to her that I don’t fucking share.

“Violet!”

She waves when she spots me, but says something else to the prick before hurrying toward me with a big grin on her face. Like I didn’t just witness her with some other dude.

He keeps on strolling to the parking lot like he’s not bothered the girl he wants to fuck just ran to me. Either he’s playing it cool or he has no fucking clue what he’s missing.

“Professor Tate gave me an A!” she squeals, giving an adorable hop that would probably make my heart melt if I wasn’t questioning who inspired her to write that story in the first place.

Him or me.

“Congrats.”

“Thanks! You want to go celebrate? I’m dying for some ice cream.”

“Who’d you dedicate it to?”

Her grin widens and she pulls out a printed copy of the story, flipping to the second page. “Professor Tate said students don’t normally dedicate short stories to anyone, but I told her this one was an exception.”

To Wes, my muse.

I nod after the ginger. “Is he your muse too?”

Her smile falters and she follows my gaze to his retreating back. “Who? Maxwell?”

I grit my teeth. Even his name is pretentious. “You two seemed to really be enjoying each other’s company until I showed up.”

Violet’s brows furrow, puzzled, until realization dawns. “Oh my god—Wes, no. He’s just a friend. Honestly, he’s not really even a friend. We talk sometimes in class. That’s it.”

I take a step toward her. “Five seconds ago, you were hopping on my dick, and now you’re flashing that asshole your fuck-me eyes.”

She arches a brow. “I have fuck-me eyes? That’s good to know. I’ll have to use them on you more often.”

Despite the anger still churning in my veins, my dick twitches. She’s not cowering in fear like she would’ve a few weeks ago. “This isn’t a fucking joke. I don’t share. Remember?”

She closes the distance between us, placing a hand on my arm and purrs, “I don’t want you to. I’m all yours. I’m not like your ex. You can trust me. I know I’ve already caused you enough pain, believe me. I would never do anything to hurt you again.”

Fuck. I need to be inside hernow. Slam my cock balls-deep in her sweet pussy until we both forget that anyone else exists.

I take her hand and guide her to the athletic center. She doesn’t bother asking where I’m leading her—she already knows.

When I pull the door to the locker room open, I lock it behind us and pin her to the lockers with a metallic crash.

She gasps, and I grab her thigh, lifting her leg. But she shoves me off, sinking to her knees before me. My balls clench as she slowly pulls my fly down.

My cock springs free, and she gulps.

“Suck me, baby.”

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