Page 10 of Kingston
With a soft grunt, I reach with my other hand to take my balls in a possessive grip, pleasuring myself as our girl sleeps, completely oblivious to the storm rising within me.
Her body was made for sin. And I want to be the one to sin with her.
That’s when I notice her lashes fluttering. She wets her lips, blinking in the dark. I try to freeze, but my dick doesn’t cooperate. My lips drop open as the orgasm begins to crash through me, and once it’s started, there’s no stopping it. Elliot’s looking right at me as cum spurts all over my hand.Holy fuck.My heart is going to burst right through my chest. Is she about to freak the fuck out? Scream? Punch me in the face?
But none of those things happen. Her tired eyelids droop again, and I breathe out a sigh of relief through pursed lips, my hips still thrusting my cock lazily into my hand. For a moment, I’m unsure what to do about the mess, but then I stand and peel my shirt over my head, wiping the jizz from my hand onto it.
Sound asleep. I should probably leave, but I don’t just yet. I study her features again, wondering what it was about her sexy-as-hell performance earlier that had tripped my internal alarms. I wad my shirt into a ball, holding it in both hands.
It’s fine. We’ll figure her out. Maybe it’s simply that I expected more of a protest from her, especially since I could totally tell she wasn’t as into it as she’d have liked for us to believe. So now, even though we know how the mistake of her invitation happened, I’m still Team Give Her a Shot. She deserves it after putting up with the debauchery earlier, deserves a chance to do whatever it is she thinks she’s here to do. Show her father she could be the son he never had? Hell, I don’t know. And I don’t care.
My eyes flick to the duvet, now riding low near her hips.Fuck.I let out a low groan. Things are about to get interesting at Hawthorne Hall—and I’m here for it.
SEVEN
ELLIOT
Last night,for the first time in a very long time, I dreamed. I’m usually the deepest sleeper ever, but for some reason, I was restless. All I remember are stunning eyes piercing my very soul. Shaking myself, I blink hard, confused by my whereabouts. The faintest amount of daylight has managed to leak into the room around the edges of the blinds. Where the hell am I? My heart races for a few seconds as my brain slowly comes back online.
Without sitting up, I let my gaze drift around the blue-painted room, and it hits me like a mean-looking Mack truck—I’m at Hawthorne Hall, tucked into a bed in one of the stupid-beautiful rooms.
Correction: I’m inmynew room. And as I lift the covers, it hits me that I’m only clothed in my underwear and bra. I let out a hard exhale.Right.That’s because I’d refused to open the door last night after what happened with Cannon. Before he left, he’d tossed his T-shirt to me. I close my eyes, remembering the look of shock on his face immediately after I kneed him. So, why’d he let me have his shirt? Had he realized he’d come on a little strong? Was it his form of an unspoken apology?
I get the distinct feeling he only speaks when absolutely necessary. I’m obviously not ready to outright ask what his deal is yet. But hey, all I have is time. It’s entirely possible Cannon guessed I wouldn’t leave my room after the events of the evening… whatever the reason, I couldn’t bear the idea of wearing his shirt, even though it felt soft and smelled really good, like a blend of fruits and herbs… a nice, fresh scent. I really liked it.Ugh, dammit. Stop, Elliot.
As I release air from my lungs, the exhale is shaky at best. I hadn’t wanted to wear Cannon’s shirt, but I’d also refused to exit the room to unpack my car. That would have meant facing all those guys again, and there was no way I was doing that with my face on fire and the persistent ache between my legs. Like an idiot, I couldn’t—can’t—stop thinking about the way Cannon’s lips and tongue had grazed over my skin or the expression on his face—like I was his idea of heaven. At the memory, my face burns all over, and I press my palms to my cheeks in an effort to cool them. It does no fucking good.
Those moments with him were both the strangest and possibly hottest ones of my life. I let out a groan and roll over, twisting myself up in the bedsheets. Really fucking bizarre is what it was. But thrilling all the same. And he didn’t tell me my thighs were too thick or my stomach was too soft.
I don’t know what came over me, allowing him to explore my body as long as I had. Never, ever have I let someone look so closely at my body. Not even Nick. It can’t happen again. Hopefully, my knees to his midsection made my message perfectly clear—his advances were not something I’d accept on day one, no matter that it’d turned me on or that he seemed to be acutely aware of that fact. He’d looked… hungry.
Glancing at the light coming in through the windows again, I wince. I won’t be able to afford oversleeping once classes start. Speaking of, I should print off my schedule for Monday and see about looking at where my classes are located on campus. Because I gave up my spot in the dorm, it would seem I’ve been left off any sort of orientation scheduling for incoming freshmen.
I huff out a general sigh of discontent. Maybe Bridger or Taggart knows how to get involved. If I ever get up the nerve to go downstairs, I’ll ask. Now, what are the odds everyone has forgotten what transpired during pledge night?
As I ponder that question, I feel around in bed for my phone to see what time it is—I’m always falling asleep with it when I read at night—only to remember I definitely hadn’t been reading last night and haven’t a clue where my phone ended up.
Sitting up, I groan.Shit.My phone is downstairs somewhere, along with my purse. And my dignity. What am I gonna do, exit my room in bra and panties and strut out to my car to start hauling shit inside?
I rub my fingers over my forehead, hoping to ease the headache that’s beginning to overtake me.Fuck.There’s a semi-decent solution lying on the floor next to the bed, right where I’d dropped it last night. Blowing out a hard breath, I peek over the edge of the bed and snatch up Cannon’s T-shirt, then slip it over my head. It’s huge on me, not that I’d expected otherwise.
I scramble out of the bed and cross the room to the en suite bathroom that I hadn’t paid much attention to last night and push the door open. I flick the light switch, and the room lights up with a soft glow. There’s a dimmer switch, but it doesn’t make it that much brighter. At first, I grumble about men not knowing women need adequate lighting in a bathroom, but then I notice the large mirror over the sink has a button at the bottom of it. When I touch my finger to it, the mirror lights up all along its periphery. That’s pretty cool. Turning to the toilet, I take care of business, then wash my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is in wild disarray and with no toothbrush or toothpaste, my mouth tastes like death. I bend over, drinking water directly from the faucet, swishing and spitting. It doesn’t help much.
Back in the bedroom, I hesitantly make my way to the bedroom door, but after a moment, I flip the lock and ease it open. I pause, surprise zipping through me. All my belongings are neatly piled in the hallway right outside my room. My gaze flicks to the other three doors in this hall. They’re all closed, but I have no way of knowing whether the guys are in their respective rooms or already downstairs. I pause, listening. There are definitely voices drifting upward from the floor below. Are they eating breakfast together? Am I missing out on important bonding opportunities?
Fuck, am I really staying?
I mentally slap myself. Yes. I am. For Will. Time to suck it up and solidify my place in this brotherhood. I grab my backpack and throw it over one shoulder, then pick up my purse and phone, and finally snatch my overnight bag, which contains my toiletries and a couple changes of clothing. Hustling back into my room, I dump everything on the bed and dig out my toothbrush and toothpaste before returning to the bathroom.
I realize my mistake when footsteps sound from inside my room. I never shut the door behind me. My heart gives a violent lurch as my lungs cease to pull in proper amounts of air. Steeling myself, I demand, “Who’s there?” then wait, frozen in place with a mouthful of toothpaste. One second goes by, then two… I know one of them is out there. In my room. My brain is suddenly on full alert, and I’m wide awake. I can’t afford not to be on my toes while living in this house.
Kingston chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, a devilish smirk on his face as he takes in my crazy hair and foaming mouth. His green-eyed gaze dips down to my bare legs, studying me intently. He finds me lacking, judging by the disinterested expression on his face.
He’s making me nervous. I’m fairly certain he knows it, too, the bastard, but he leisurely leans against the doorframe, tongue sliding carefully over his full lower lip as he eyes Cannon’s shirt. His brows raise. “So, that’s where Cannon’s shirt went.” His gruff voice is lower and more menacing than it was yesterday. He pushes off the wood frame and strides slowly into the bathroom, not stopping until he’s so close I have to tilt my head back to look at him.
What I see in his eyes confuses me. They’re cold and angry, but when I look deeper there’s a heat simmering beneath the surface. I don’t understand. It’s like he’s angry, but— I swallow hard as I stare into the green depths.No.I have to be imagining things. “Um,” I mumble around my toothpaste laden mouth before holding a finger up and twisting around to spit.
Much to my dismay, the T-shirt rides up and cool air touches my backside. Before I can correct the problem, a sharp crack fills the air as Kingston’s hand lands on my ass.Oh god. It doesn’t move once it lands on its target, his big hand fondling the cheek as he steps behind me. My heart thunders as I run the water to rinse my mouth. As I bend, his body covers mine and he plants both hands on the counter, caging me in.
