Page 41 of Taste of Thorns
I poke him hard in the ribs, although he doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Dray!” I hiss.
But that doesn’t work either because next thing I know, he’s backing me right up against the wall and caging me with his body for everyone to see.
“You know it really makes me fucking hot when you tell me off like that, Kitten. Wanna skip the next lesson and come sit on my face right now?”
The idea of that is way too hot for this time of morning despite all the people staring at me again. I wasn’t exaggerating to Fly about the sex addiction thing. One word – one look – from these men has my belly swooping.
But, as Fly pointed out, I am not actually a nymphomaniac. I still have my sense and my free will so I push at his chest.
“I need some space.”
He pouts dramatically. “I hate space. It sucks. I shouldn’t be wasting my time jerking off, when I could be fucking you instead.”
I close my eyes – half-embarrassed out of my skin because the hallway is jammed packed, half really turned on.
“I’m still pretty angry with Beaufort,” I frown, “and I think Thorne is upset with me.”
“Thorne? Nah. He’s completely nuts for you, Kitten.”
“He was really off with me yesterday morning. I think I must have hurt his feelings or something,” I say, although what I did exactly, I’m not so sure.
Dray considers me. “Okay, I’ll go kick their asses into shape. And once they’ve made it up to you, you come find me, all right? Because I want to be smothered in your wet pussy. Promise?”
He holds up his pinky finger.
“Promise,” I say, hooking my own little finger around it. He leans in and kisses my mouth, then pushes off the wall and practically bounces away.
I watch him go for a moment, catching my breath and allowing my heart rate to slow.
I’m about to walk away too, the hallway now empty, when Madame Bardin appears in the doorway.
“I wonder what Professor Tudor would make of the dog drooling all over you,” she says, with one of her sinister smiles.
There are a million retorts I’d like to respond with, every single one bound to get me in trouble, so I force that blank expression onto my face, look her right in her eyes and tell her, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Then I walk away before the heat in my cheeks gives me away. Does Madame know about me and the professor? She thinks he likes me – but does she know we’re sleeping with each other?
My belly fills with worry and a nausea swims through my body.
I’ve been so caught up in my feelings, I haven’t thought about the true consequences of our actions. Yeah, I know we have to keep things a secret, but do I know what happens if we’re found out?
Especially to the professor.
The staring and the whispering continues – all through lunch and the afternoon lessons. Except, my imagination plays tricks on me. Convinces me they’re muttering the professor’s name, tricking me into believing that they’re no longer talking aboutmy achievement in the trial. Now they are talking about me and the professor.
And maybe I am right, because when I return to my room that night, after a visit to Blaze out in the forest, someone has scrawled SLUT in bright red paint across my door.
Chapter Twelve
Briony
“Assholes,” Fly mutters the next morning as we both stare at the new addition to my door.
“See, I told you, they hate me.”
“Not everyone hates you, Cupcake. Some people are just bitter and jealous, that’s all.” He bends down and rubs at the paint with his finger. “I’d tell you to own this like a badge of honor (like all those bitches aren’t dying to screw the Princes themselves!) but actually it looks hideous. Let’s remove it.”
