Page 12 of Speak

“She has to be what? Twenty-three now?” Riordan says in a hushed tone.

“Twenty-four.” I mutter.

Chase laughs and then winks. “I’ve always preferred older women.”

I want to punch both of them in their beautifully sculpted identical faces. I wonder if I break Chase’s nose if Riordan will feel it? I could always try out the theory. I really want to try it right now. Before I can wind my arm back and throw my fist forward, the cafeteria doors are pushed open, and it’s utter and complete silence.

Axel walks in and behind him is the goddess herself. My heart stops at the sight of her still in her little black skirt from earlier, fishnet stockings, heeled combat boots, her wavy hair with what I can see now is a streak of silver on one side, is now in pigtails, wearing a black Bullet for My Valentine T-shirt that’s tucked into the front of her skirt, eyes winged to perfection and that’s it. No lipstick. No contouring bullshit. Just big lashes and winged eyes.

I love her.

When she walks by me, I catch the sight of the vines going up her leg, intricate blooming lotus flowers and spider lilies disappearing up her thigh, under her skirt and I want to know exactly where they lead to. I want to know what they feel like under my fingertips, if they’re still raised up on her skin. They look fresh. Do they hurt? Can I lick them?

Fuck. My dick goes rock hard under the table in two seconds flat when the whispers begin.

Axel holds out his elbow and she takes it, keeping her head down as they walk to the food line. The extreme differences between them is almost laughable. Axel is full WASP in a polo and khakis like the Hartford student he is and beside him, the goddess of night herself.

My mouth fills with saliva immediately at the way her firm thighs lightly jiggle, but the medium-sized holes in her fishnets don’t hide the muscles in her quads that tell me she could probably squash my head if she squeezed it too hard while I make her come on my tongue. Fuck. I gotta get closer.

I spy the vending machine near where they’re standing and I’m suddenly all too thirsty – parched, really. I get up while pulling out my wallet from my back pocket, try not to run over, and stand in front of the vending machine, looking at all of the soda and juice choiceswhile simultaneously watching when Axel asks what she would like to eat. She doesn’t say anything, but her honey eyes flick over to the spaghetti and back up at her brother. He asks for two servings.

Fuck yeah, my girl likes to eat.

My girl.

Raven Monroe. Raven Monroe-Anderson. Raven Anderson.

I like it. Sounds good. Perfect, even.

I punch in the number to get a bottle of water, so she doesn’t catch me staring and then the hypnotizing scent of berries, jasmine, violets and amber with a twist of cinnamon hits me. Sweet and Spicy. I knew she would smell better than that trash vanilla all the girls here wear. I stand straight and lock eyes with a caramel gaze so thick I want to drown in them. I barely register that she’s about a foot shorter than me.

Fuck. I love that. I can pick her up and throw her around like a rag doll.

“Hi, I’m Jonas.” I flash her my flashiest smile.

She looks at the water bottle in my hands and then turns to face the vending machine without a word. She shoves in a black credit card and punches in the code to get a strawberry-apple Snapple. I can’t help but wonder if that’s how her pussy tastes. Strawberries and apple pussy? I’m game.

The drink tumbles down and she does the same for a Coke. Once they’re both waiting for her, she bends a little, and pops right back up, drinks in hand. No nail polish. Those twin honey embers flicker back up to me when Axel reaches us with a to-go bag. Oh, she’s not eating in here. I can’t awkwardly gawk at her and watch her feed those lush curves.

This is depressing.

“Ready?”

She blinks and walks away from me, taking the scent of jasmine and berries and I fight myself so hard not to follow it.

Fuck I need more of it.

I get back to my seat with the twins.

“Fuck, she got fat. I guess that’s what happens when they don’t let you out to exercise at crazy prison.” Chase chirps with a stupid grin.

I kick him under the table. “She’s not fat. Did you see the muscles on her legs? Fuck. She’s practically a muscle mommy.”

“Other parts of her, dude.Otherparts of her are fat.” He argues, pointing at his arm. “Bat wings.”

I have to fight the urge to kick him under the table. If he didn’t need his legs for football, I’d break them.

“What did she say to you?” Riordan, the twin I actually like asks, changing the subject.

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