Page 160 of Good Losers (Lochkelvin Academy)

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“Fuck,” Finlay mutters, glancing between me and the ceiling. I realize then, as he fiddles rapidly with the button and the long metal zipper, that Finlay’s chanting a quick, one-word prayer to whichever god might be listening. “Fuckity-fuck, fuck fuck fuckin’fuck.” He shimmies free from his black leather pants, sliding them over his legs and discarding them at the side of the bed. A huge expanse of milk-pale skin is revealed.

He’s utterly stark-fucking naked.

“You weren’t wearing anything underneath?” I ask in surprise, momentarily forgetting the role of siren I’d been attempting.

“Course no’. Dinnae want anyone tae see lines o’ underwear through the material. That’s just wrang.”

“But you’re fine with everyone seeing…” I gesture vaguely to his long, upright cock.

“My giant willy?” He flashes me a grin. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s a fuckin’ gorgeous beast.”

I have a sudden desire to nurse my forehead. I don’t know what’s worse — the wordwilly, or that Finlay assigned it a pronoun. But I don’t have time to ruminate on either of these things, because Finlay leans over me, pumping his cock slowly between his palm, a bright, shark-like grin on his face.

“I think I want you tae keep yours on, though,” he says, with a flicked glance toward my pathetic, shapeless panties. “Adds tae the debauched effect, knowing that I’ve done this tae ye.” He traces the outline of the lace with a distracted finger. “Theywerepretty. I hope they werenae too expensive.”

“Nothing you can’t pay me for later.”

Finlay smirks down at me. “God, ye have a smart wee tongue when ye’re about tae get fucked.”

Heat roils within me, a fierce and steady rumble that matches the pace of Finlay’s teasing, pumping hand. He balances with ease on one arm beside me, our gazes locked, and then begins to guide his cockhead toward my cunt.

There’s a flash of pain, subsiding before surging again, as Finlay splits me open. I throw my head back to look at the ceiling, taking deep breaths into my lungs, filling my body with blessed oxygen. My cunt feels raw as Finlay enters me, like I’m too small, too tiny, for him to stuff completely. There’s agony sliced with fear, and then, as Finlay shifts his hips into me, it suddenly dissolves, outstripped by a bright, sparking pleasure deep in the pit of my belly.

I groan, burying my face into the smooth satin pillows, hair sliding across my damp forehead and clinging to me stickily. I can’t remember how to breathe, surviving instead on shallow panting.

“Look at me,” Finlay whispers, and it takes the most tremendous wave of energy to do so, to turn my head and lock eyes with him. He looks delectable — as flushed as me, all artifice having fallen from him in an instant. This is it. This is us, two souls uniting in front of our friends. It feels raw and abruptly emotional, how much I’ve wanted this, how much I’ve craved to meet Finlay’s eyes in this exact position, with him buried deep inside me.

Tears are shocked into existence as Finlay cups my cheek, a suddenly tender move as he grinds his hips hard into me, the thick thrust of his cock turning me into hot, molten liquid under the mercy of his boyish gaze.

“Look at me,” Rory says in a slow, languid tone, and our bodies stop moving at once. I drag my eyes away from Finlay, tilting my head so that I see Rory’s implacable face from underneath Finlay’s tensed arm.

“No funny shite,” Finlay reminds Rory, apprehensive, as he glances over his shoulder. “That was the deal.”

“I don’t remember making a deal. I remember you barging on assuming I had, though.” Rory’s tone is cold, clipped. It warms me straight through with anticipation. “Tell me, how does my saint feel beneath you? Is she as tight for you as she is for me?”

“Tighter,” Finlay grunts, riled up and forcing himself deeper into me until my cries split the air. I feel spread and speared, my skin shining with sweat. I’m ruined and reaching a sense of oblivion, a place that exists in the apex of my legs, in the place where Finlay connects fully with me.

With helpless, frantic fingers, I make my way down to the needy bead of my clit. Rory’s voice stops me in an instant.

“You don’t come for him,” Rory says sharply. “Who do you come for?”

Tears slick past my eyelids, catching in my lashes. I’m so turned on that it hurts. I’m an agony of painful pleasure, one giant atom of it, a bundle waiting to explode. “You,” I whisper brokenly, wetly, craving Rory. “I come for you.”

“Correct,” Rory says, sounding pleased at my answer. It doesn’t help me in the least. In fact, my words seem to have spurred Finlay into action, his teeth gritted, his hips angling sharply into me and striking elongated moans out of me and into the emptiness of the suite. His usually pretty face is caught in a perpetual snarl, as Rory’s possessive words drive him to the knife-edge of madness.

My moans ratchet uncontrollably higher in volume and pitch, until I think I’m about to shatter without touching my clit, until I think Finlay’s going to detonate inside me. In the distance, Luke’s watching the bed in avid fascination. I see Danny throwing all caution to the wind and gently running his hands up the enormous column of his cock like he’s enchanted. A dark, goading smirk crosses Rory’s face.

There’s a sharp knock on the door.

Suddenly, everything stills. The spell of imminent sexual release breaks, stutters, comes to a complete halt. I clamp my lips shut in terror, my eyes meeting Rory’s. Rory says nothing, but his head swings around at the noise. Finlay, his chest quivering above mine, remains pulsing into me at a much lesser force, like even now his cock is inexplicably driving his hips forward.

“Could you keep it down, please?” a nervous voice says, feminine and flighty. “We’ve been receiving some noise complaints.”

All eyes turn to me. Finlay’s lips curve into a braggy kind of grin. I feel myself growing beet-red, blotchy with embarrassment, and for a moment I wish the mattress would just swallow me whole.

“Thank you,” the woman says, high-pitched with awkwardness, before her footsteps drift down the hall.

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