Page 74 of The Invite
“That you always finish what you start,” I whisper shakily.
Out of nowhere, he brings out the knife he brought from downstairs, which I completely forgot about.
He traces the sharp edge down the length of my body as he sits upright once more. Placing it right above my pussy—still dripping—he pulls back his hand.
“What are you d…” I trail off when he removes his hoodie in one smooth pull. Underneath it, he’s wearing a tight black compression shirt that looks painted on over his ripped upper body.
However, that’s not what turns me speechless and my jaw slack with awe.
It’s the riveting full-sleeve tattoos on his arms. Some colorful, some black. All stunning pieces of artwork.
Is this what he’s been hiding under his clothes?
All this time, he’s worn long-sleeved shirts or hoodies so I never saw them. Just when I think I’ve figured him out, he goes and unveils another layer of his.
Augustus is tatted! A popular biker! A masked man on social media!
What other secrets is he keeping close to his heart?
I’m taking in those beautiful tattoos, hypnotized by their beauty and rawness. On his right arm, a large snake swirls and ropes around from its tail on his wrist to the top with his mouth open and tongue hissing. While on the other arm, random drawings paint his skin, filled with skulls and crossbones, quotes in a foreign language, and roses.
Why is he letting me see them tonight?
It’s like he’s taking one of his walls down between us.
Is it because he saw my weakness?
Does he even possess empathy, sympathy, or compassion?
I’m not given time to adjust to the beautiful revelation when he shakes my earth on its axis again by removing the undershirt until his sculpted upper body is nude.
He seems to grow two sizes bare-chested and my throat goes dry.
There’s not an ounce of fat, only muscles and ripped abdomen with six-pack abs. Each isdistinct and brick-like. I swallow desperately as I lower my gaze to the sexy trail of hair leading to his—
“It’s impolite to stare,” Augustus taunts, snapping my attention to his rugged face. “Especially when he’syour student, Miss Nessa. Do I need to remind you that it’s wrong to lust after a student?”
I jerk my head to the side, and stammer, “I-I wasn’t… I’m not.”
“Why are you dripping onto the sheets then?” His hand cups my wet pussy. “Such a naughty teacher you are. A dirty fucking whore underneath your prim and proper clothes.”
My eyes close as I twist my fingers in the sheets. Doing everything in my power to not grind against his palm. The friction is so enticing against my clit.
“Look at me.”
I shake my head.
“I said.”Smack. “Look at.”Smack. “Me.”Smack.
With a painful cry, I open my eyes and face him. A trickle of fear runs down my spine when I see him holding the knife. I scamper backward when he bends over. My breasts crushing against his chest.
The skin-on-skin contact isso delicious and soothing.
His flesh is so warm, hard, and perfect against my burning body.
But the pleasantness takes a back seat when he runs the blade to tilt my jaw until our lips are a hairsbreadth away.
I tense because of the object.
