Page 112 of Shattered Stars
“That isn’t talking,” I hiss.
I am going to kill him. As soon as we’re out of this classroom, I will–
“Do you need a dress?” he whispers so quietly in my ear, only I hear. I shake my head. What I need is for him to go away. Having him so close – touching me – is confusing. My bond thrums with pleasure, a pleasure I feel reflected throughout mybody. And I can’t help thinking about that kiss. A kiss I’ve been resolutely blocking from my mind – a kiss that set my entire body on fire. “I’ll buy a dress for you if you like.”
His whole hand is resting on my thigh now and I could bat it away. I could zap him with my magic. I could jump to my feet and pretend I need to fetch a book from the other side of the classroom. Something stops me from moving though. The bond. Or maybe just him. His scent is deep and his touch more than magic. It’s so hard to resist both when he’s this close, when his magic brushes over my skin and makes me shiver.
“I’ll buy you anything you want,” he breathes, his voice deep and husky, his warm lips pressing my ear. “Give you anything you want.” His wet tongue sweeps around the shell of my ear and then he plunges it into my ear hole, making me shiver even harder, my legs and my hands beginning to shake.
I don’t move. My own breath is loud in my ears. I try to focus on that pencil but all I can concentrate on is his hand on my thigh, tingling with magic. A hand that’s dipping under my skirt.
Shit! What is wrong with me?
Am I just like all the other girls? A hopeless sucker for Tristan Kennedy. Am I that pathetic that I’m going to let him touch me like this, trail his fingers up the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh and graze the gusset of my panties.
“Stop,” I mutter really damn pathetically, stifling a little moan.
“I can’t,” he breathes back and I bite my lip, everything between my legs already pulsing with the electricity of his touch.
My heart thumps in my chest. My breath turns needy. He waits, the thin fabric of my panties the only thing separating my most intimate part from his fingertips. Despite telling him to stop, I’m not pushing him away, I’m not getting up to leave.
“You really want me to stop?” he asks, nibbling at my earlobe.
I screw up my eyes. What do I want? My body, my bond, are screaming at me. They want him to touch me. They want it so badly I can’t fight against it.
I shake my head. A tiny, almost indiscernible movement.
But it’s enough. It’s enough for him.
He slides his fingers under the silky material of my panties and gasps as his fingertips connect with the sensitive flesh that lies below. Already sensitive and swollen.
“Fuck, you’re so …” He groans. I can feel his other arm hooked around the back of my chair, his strong body pressed up against me. “Gonna make you …”
He barely has to brush his fingers against me, his magic does the rest, gliding around my most intimate parts, stroking against my clit in delicious circles that has me biting down even harder on my lip.
“Yes,” he whispers and then his mouth is back on my neck, nibbling and licking up and down my throat. I think I might actually pass out. I want him to stop. We’re in a classroom, surrounded by students. And I hate him. Everything about him. Everything he’s done to me. Except I don’t hate this. I don’t hate it at all. I want it so badly. I don’t want him to stop.
My breath turns panty and ragged, my pussy throbs, clenching and releasing.
“Shhh, you need to be quiet, Piglet, really quiet,” he whispers.
But I’m losing control. His magic thrums against my clit and I slide lower in my seat, lifting my hips, wanting more, wanting more of his touch and his magic and the way he makes me feel.
I guess for once I’m grateful for how loud Summer and her adoring fans are, because the tension he’s building inside me is too much. I fumble for his arm, gripping his wrist tightly with both my hands, and when I come, I come with a sigh I can’t disguise and can’t muffle.
As I do, I feel two of his fingers slide deep inside me and I clench around them in rhythmic waves. His free hand comes to cover my mouth, smothering the groans I’m making as he massages my spot.
“Shit,” he mutters and I’m even more grateful Trent and Winnie are distracted by each other and not looking my way.
I come again with his fingers inside me and his mouth on my throat, scraping his teeth against my skin. This time it seems to go on and on forever – wave after wave crashing through my body and he has to hold me down in my seat.
When the bliss finally subsides, and I’m limp and breathless, I feel him slide his fingers from me.
Suddenly, I’m hit by a wave of shame and embarrassment, my cheeks growing incredibly hot.
What the hell have I just done? What the hell was I thinking?
By my ear I hear him slurping and sucking and I know the fingers he just had inside me are now in his mouth.
