Page 22 of Something So Strong

I grip tighter.

He smirks. “You disgust me.”

My mouth opens.

I stick out my tongue.

He spits at my face and grips my chin. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I pant—my balls tightening.

The fingers of his right hand push down on my tongue and fill my mouth.

I gag on my fingers as they jab at the back of my throat.

I push them deeper.

My hips rise from the mattress.

I stop pumping and squeeze until cum splatters my chest.

I collapse.

Saliva trails after my fingers as I pull them from my mouth.

This. This is my life now. I will make this a reality.

I’m drunk on him. Totally simped-out. Completely fucking besotted, and dreaming about him from across the hallway ain’t gonna cut it anymore.

Alone again, I trudge down the stairs, slapping my foot with each step and feeling way too sorry for myself, considering I’d gotten my first solid sleep since arriving.

Waking up alone in a room separated from everyone else takes a lot of getting used to when, for ten years, I shared a dorm and for my entire adult life—to date, anyway—I’ve lived with Saxon and Romeo. Our first flat in central London only had one bathroom. And even though we didn’t have to fight over bathroom time when we moved into the terrace Saxon bought after the trial with his parents ended, if I didn’t see them in the morning, I always knew I’d see them at some point during the day. But now, with us working opposite hours, I’m not sure when I’ll see Saxon. And dragging Romeo along for a late breakfast/early lunch today is out of the question cause he’s a lying son-of-a-bitch.

Yes, you heard me right. He’s a deceitful sack of shit.

Remember when he said he wouldn’t sleep with Cleo?

Yeah, well, guess who tumbled out of the lift after him during the early hours of this morning?

And guess who didn’t stop her?

The nerve…

Stepping into the empty kitchen, I’m greeted by twenty-ish tables that look like giant white lily pads floating on a pond of misery. The fluorescent light reflecting off every surface hurts my eyes so much I contemplate leaving the way I came.

“Need a date?”

“Fuck!” I jump, gripping the fabric of my t-shirt over my heart as my body turns ninety degrees.

Of all the people in Canada, it had to be him.

Standing with his hands in his pockets, leaning forward and still holding the position he’d taken to whisper in my ear, is Kai. And he just stares.

He’s only a few inches taller than me, but I feel defenseless—and I’m really fucking not. I throw a better punch than both Romi and Sax, but right now, I don’t think I could swat away a fly.

Pulling back, Kai rocks onto his heels. It feels like he balances there for an eternity before he slaps his toes firmly on the tiles. “So, what d’ya say, pretty boy? Do you need a date?”

“Why?” My voice comes out so softly I want to run and hide under the nearest table, because…

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