Page 37 of Wicked Dreams

“Of you?”

His eyes gleam, and he looks down. “I know you’re afraid of me. I don’t need to ask. Are you wet?”

I choke on my gasp. Beingwet—God, it sounds so dumb of me to admit that I’ve never really experimented in that department. It’s kind of hard when I’ve had almost zero privacy. Sharing a room with foster siblings doesn’t really cultivate an explore-your-anatomy environment.

So, while I know what he’s talking about, and have tentatively made myself feel good at points in the past, hearing him say it so brashly…

“Yes or no, baby,” he says. “If you don’t answer, I can easily find out.”

I just shake my head, my eyes big.

His eyebrow rises, calling me out.

Waiting for an answer I cannot—or will not—give him. Am I wet? Maybe. He was just sucking on my breast, and the tingling sensation between my legs is still present. I didn’t notice it, but now that he’s directed my attention down there…

I shove at his chest, but he uses the contact to catch both of my hands. He maneuvers them into one of his, and his other hand slides up the inside of my thigh. My breath hitches when his fingers dip under the edge of my panties. He pauses, meeting my gaze, then strokes one finger down the center of me. It’s sudden and vicious, not at all gentle like my own hesitant wandering.

He does it again, more fingers dragging from the top of my pussy down to my slit. Pressing in just a little, then withdrawing. Back up and over my clit. I try not to react, but I can barely catch my breath.

When he withdraws, he holds up two glistening fingers. “Soaked.”

“You can’t just?—”

“Take what I want? Or get away with this?” He rolls his eyes and licks one finger. “I almost wish you were right. We stood in a hallway full of students, and no one batted an eye at your misery. Want to know why?”

He slowly licks one finger, then holds out the other to me.

I gape—but that was the point, wasn’t it? He pushes his finger into my mouth, swiping across my tongue. The flavor is barely there, but like salt and musk, and my stomach turns.

“Suck,” he orders. “And I’ll take you home. Promise.”

My eyes burn, but I keep my mouth open. He waits for only a moment for my lips to close around his finger, then sighs. He removes it and licks it clean himself. His lips close around his middle finger, and that uncomfortable desire makes itself known again.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, releasing his digit with apop. “You taste like…”

“Like what?”

He smirks. “Like sin, baby.”

My mouth drops open again, but I’m in no danger of him shoving fingers down my throat. He seems more interested in leaving this haunted house, pivoting and striding toward the front door with sudden urgency.

I hop off the counter and follow him on shaky legs. Exhaustion settles over me, cold and thick. It’s good that we’re leaving, that I don’t have to return to school. It’s out for the day anyway, and I can’t imagine facing anyone who might’ve seen me leave with him.

He climbs in his car. Again, I follow.

Except the passenger door is locked.

He rolls down the window, shooting me a wink. “I said I’d give you a ride home if you sucked. You missed your chance.”

“You can’t be serious.”

But he is, because the window rolls back up, and he hits the gas so suddenly I have to leap away from the car. He reaches the end of the long driveway and turns, heading away from the school. The sound of his engine reaches me long after he’s gone.

Only then do my knees give out. My tears evolve into huge, hiccuping sobs.

From a first kiss to…this.

I regret ever being excited about coming back to Rose Hill. Not with a monster as the school’s leader.

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