Page 112 of Jerk
Hannah stares at Krystal, her eyes beaming like a cartoon, and she even stammers a little. “It-it would?” Then she shakes her head. “May I remind you both that you took away internship opportunities from me? I need to fix that.”
Krystal shoots me a look as if this is all my fault. And… well, it kind of is.
Placing the box of eclairs on the counter, I take one out. The chocolate-glazed one, decorated with handmade chocolate shavings from Belgium. Her favourite. Hannah watches as I bring it to her lips. When she looks up at me, the long pastry pointed to her mouth, it reminds me of exactly what I’ll be doing to her the minute I get her alone.
“Ew,” Krystal pipes up. “Guys!”
“Give us a second,” I say, my eyes completely zoned in on Hannah’s lips.
“Let me know when you two really want to talk about this.” She pushes the velvet stool back against the tile, covering her eyes as she exits the kitchen. “Which reminds me, this party will have boundaries.”
I’m too enthralled in how Hannah wraps her lips around the eclair to care. And I know this’ll help soften what I’m about to say. As she chews, her eyes roll back in her head as she lets out a moan, alerting my cock again. Should I be this jealous of this pastry?
“Listen, Krystal’s right.” I keep feeding her the eclair as I speak, trailing a finger down her soft cheek. “I ruined your internship with my mother, and that’s on me. So, how about wegive you a stage?” I can feel the heat of her cheeks against my cold fingers before moving them down to her neck. “Use this as your runway.”
Her brows furrow as my fingers fall lower, trailing over her hardening nipples. “You want me to have a fashion show at your next party?” Her breath hitches when I squeeze her nipple through that shirt, and I watch as she swallows what’s in her mouth. My hand trails over the other, and before she can squeeze her legs, I put my knee between them.“Rye, I?—”
“Are you questioning me?” My head sinks into her neck, taking in the blended smell of us. Her perfume. The cologne on my shirt. And now I’m rock hard. “I need you to trust me. You don’t deserve your future taken from you. You don’t deserve to have to do extra credit to make up for what I caused. Let me do the extra work. All you have to do is show your work.”
“I took your world from you,” she says, her voice that soft tone she only reserves for me. I can’t fathom her having it for anyone else. “You don’t deserve that either.”
“Except, I do. If I have to spend the rest of my life making sure you know you deserve nothing but a bright future, I will. That starts now.” Dropping the rest of the eclair to the floor, I press my knee against her warm centre, a soft moan escaping her. I walk my fingers to the knife in the photo, pulling it out. “I took your big event away. I ruled with my parties. So join me.” Bringing the knife to her thigh, her breath shakes when the blade kisses her skin. “Just show me you trust me. I know you do. I’ve felt it.” My fingers travel between her legs. Hot. Damp. “I won’t hurt you, and you know that, even though it scares you.” Her eyes roll back when my fingers enter her, and I flip the blade, pressing the dull edge into her skin. “She exhales in a way that sounds like relief when I push my fingers inside her, her wetness coating them. “Just say yes.”
This time, she hardly puts up a fight. “Yes.”
And fuck… I hope my sister knows we’ll need more than a second.
“Fuck!”
The minute I step out of the shower, something soft and silky drops over my head, and the world goes black.
I start to think I'm back at SOL before his scent takes over me. The one that makes my system both wild and calm.
“Trust me?” His voice lands in my ears, fire rushing through me. After a long day of lectures and trying to piece together some old notes with new information, all I’m in the mood for is a martini and a cuddle. But the way my body falls into him tells me that doesn’t matter right now.
“I do.”
“Good girl.” A smack to my ass gets me giggling as he steers me around the mansion. He’s careful, making sure I don’t bump into anything at all.
“Hello. Nice to see you too,” I tease. “How was your day?”
Swapping my castle in The Hill for the Rowen Estate has gotten us into a rhythm. Classes during the day, with or without a cheeky hookup between, then back home for an evening sex-a-thon before sushi in bed. Or movie marathons in the cinema with Krystal. Or cram sessions with Ember in the study. I'm starting to get comfy with life here, and I like it. It feels freeing to be able to roam the expansive home without an ear out for chaos or the expectation of a mood shift. I don’t need Sun House or galas or the Posse. Right now, I only need him. Ember and Krystal are great, too.
“Okay, fine, let’s do cordialities,” he says, his grip tight on my shoulders as he swerves me around. “How was my day? Let's see,I it thinking about being so deep inside you, I don’t feel the need to exist anywhere else.”
Fucking, fuuuck. “What else?” I don’t hide the flirt in my voice or how bad I want him again.
It’s like a switch. A gasoline-filled cloth. Dry fucking wood. One little spark and I’m ready for our bodies to be smack together. The way I feel about him is kind of insane. Is this how my mother feels about my dad? Some impossible bond you can’t quite explain but crave like air and water?
“I touched myself to the thought of you climaxing on me, to the thought of you losing control all over me.” His words land against my cheek. “Then I got word about this.” The sack lifts off my head, and when my eyes meet his, he smirks, tilting his chin straight ahead. When I follow, I’m as floored as the first time. “It’s all yours. Unless you decide to burn it down.”
Michelle Nam’s home studio looks like it did before. Almost.
Gone are her fashion week posters and expensive fabrics, but everything else remains. The mannequins. The sewing and drafting table. The machines. Feeling like I’m in a Disney movie, I do a twirl, taking in my surroundings. He’s got to be kidding. It’s one thing to have a home studio. Money can buy that. It’s a whole other level of overwhelm when it’s Michelle Nam’s studio.
“Figured you’d need a place to prep your designs for the show,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. Right, the thing Rye convinced me of with his magic fingers.
“I thought if I agreed, I’d just do them at school.” I’ll be honest. The thought of designing a small collection in this studio is a dream. One I’m totally willing to live. But after burning it down, I don’t know if I deserve it.
