Page 10 of Wristlocked
“Taste the way I make you feel, Gia,” he says, at once pleading and commanding. Obediently, I suck them into my mouth. Even when I know I should try, it’s always been impossible to resist his pull. I reach for his swollen cock, but he pushes my hand away. “I’m saving that for later.” He rubs his thumb roughly over my lips and then stands, reaching out to grab my discarded shorts before helping me back into them.
“I need to shower before we go back to the gym,” I tell him. “You do what you want, but I’m not training in a soaked thong.”
“Okay.” He watches me, waiting. The shadows around us spill into the space between us, and I hop down from the air conditioner with a shiver.
“Despite current evidence to the contrary,” I say, heading back toward the sunlight as he falls in beside me. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t come to ACCA just to provide me with an unending stream of orgasms—”
“Mind-blowing, heart-stopping, earth-shattering orgasms.” He gives me a sideways look.
“Fine. Yes.” Like I could deny it. “But we do have school today. And I wouldn’t mind eating an actual dinner and unpacking my room so I can stop living out of boxes and suitcases.”
“Okay,” he says again.God, he can be so fucking stubborn.
“So, three times in twenty-four hours is a lot, even for us.” I smile up at him, going for teasing to soften the sting.
“Are you trying to tell me not to bother you with my dick later?”
Okay, he’s not letting it go. My temper flares.
“I’m saying if you need to keep distracting yourself from why we’re really here, maybe you should find a twink to help you procrastinate.” It’s a low blow, and he ignores it relentlessly.
“Whyarewe really here, Gia? Or is that even a ‘we’ question? You made it pretty clear whyyou’rehere back at the pool. Apparently, nothing’s happened since then to change your mind.”
I gape at him, the roller coaster of the past half hour bringing my brain to a screeching halt. “God, Lyot. What the fuck is going on with you?”
“Nothing’s going on with me.” He strides away, cutting across the courtyard in the direction of the dorm. “You’re right. We’re here to train. And make new connections.” He turns back. “Oh, and to say ‘fuck you’ to your parents. Don’t forget that part.”
“I’m gonna say ‘fuckyou’ in about ten seconds,” I growl, storming after him.
“I thought you were done fucking me for the day.”
We stop, both breathing hard, facing each other in the midday heat, oblivious to the curious glances or hastily averted eyes of the people walking by. I can’t tell if I’m furious or terrified or turned on.
If I pushed him right now, would he break? And if he did, would it save us or destroy us?
“Lyot—”
“Go take your shower, Gia.” He sighs, running his hands through his hair in defeat. “I’ll see you later in class.”
I watch him go, fighting tears while my monster purrs with satisfaction in my chest.
7
Gale
Isaunter into Celeste’s office twenty minutes late for my “summons” to find her scanning through a sheaf of papers in a gold folder, each topped with a headshot. “What the fuck is the trapeze princess wasting her time at ACCA for, anyway? She could probablyteachthe trap program.”
Celeste doesn’t answer, arching a cool eyebrow and leaning back in her fancy leather chair to prop her three-inch heels on the desk, flashing a length of stockinged leg. I ignore it, another little rebellion, and cross my arms, waiting her out.
“Gia Laurent may have been training and performing trapeze since childhood, Gale, but here she can develop the tools to grow as a more dynamic artist. And even a ‘princess’ can benefit from the connections we provide.”
“Spare me the fucking PR speech. She doesn’t need your connections. Why is she actually here?” I mean, the girl is serious fucking cirque royalty. Her parents are a world-renowned trapeze duo who’ve been headlining the Mirage show since they quit the international circuit fifteen years ago. For fuck’s sake, they’re pushing fifty, yet people still line up to see them perform.
“Apparently, she felt it was time to branch out.” With a sigh, Celeste swings her legs down and stands, coming out from behind the desk. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to ask her these questions yourself, if you’re sure you want to know the answers.” She stalks toward me, playing bored with my digging, but something sharp flickers in her lidded gaze. “It seems she’s developed an interest in the straps.”
Straps? This keeps getting better and better. Celeste draws a long, polished nail down my chest, and I grab it, ignoring her bogus pout.
“I want a spot in the showcase this year,” I tell her.
