Page 18 of Her Devil

“I am enjoying myself,” she replies, but not loud enough for her friend to hear. She’s already turned back around to Taylor, waving her off. “Over here in the quiet.”

“Not your scene?” I ask

“Oh, Tamsin has dragged me from one party to another for as long as I can remember.” She smiles. “But I usually get to go home to my nice silent empty house at the end of it, not some sorority full of giggling girls.”

“Ahh.”

“And you can’t say anything,” she refutes almost indignantly. “You’re enjoying sitting here just as much as I am.”

“Very true.”

“A man of few words, I can appreciate that. Especially when the women I’m staying with have nothing but words.” She laughs, the sound bursting forth from her like she didn’t expect to say those things out loud, her surprise refreshing. “Sorry, ignore me. I’m drunk and rambling.”

“Well, Drunk and Rambling, I’m Leo Windsor,” I say, finally deciding to give her the life story she was looking for, or some of it, anyway. “I’m staying at the house at the back of campus with Taylor and George, as you already deduced. And I’m the designated driver for the evening, not that I tend to drink as much as these guys seem to.”

“And why’s that?” she asks, tearing her fascinated gaze from where Taylor gropes her friend in the pool, hoisting her up to rub his face between her ample tits.

“Long story,” I reply, my gaze snapping to hers, an undercurrent of sexual tension fizzling in the air around us.

I don’t know if it’s just seeing her friend so free, or that she actually wants some of that for herself, but the conversation takes an almost imperceptible change, her attention slightly more focused, her flirting more intentional.

“I’ve got time,” she replies coyly.

Yeah, and I’ve not got a death wish.

“Another time,” I reply with a wink.

“So, The Devil's Fraternity… or something, isn’t it?” she asks.

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask with a smirk.

“The logo, the house, the parties. Someone said something about The Devil's Fraternity being behind it all. That’s you guys, right?”

“Right,” I reply, elongating the word as I attempt to work out a response that doesn’t give too much away but amply answers the question.Should have been better prepared.“I’m still figuring it all out myself,” I hedge.

Taylor is practically fucking the girl when another splash echoes around the room, two more girls joining in the fun as the heat between them drops down a notch.

“I’m Ivy, by the way, and that’s Tamsin. She’s not normally this… spontaneous. It’s been a long few days,” she attempts to explain, even though it’s not needed.

“They’re two adults, leave them to it.” I chuckle as she flicks her hair over her shoulder, the heat creeping over her skin.

It’s been a long time since I sat with a girl and just… talked. No awkward pauses and no strained silences. The conversation between us just seems to flow easily. The girls at my previous school thought they knew way too much about who I am, or more importantly, who my father is, to want to sit and talk.

They either thought they could fuck me and tame me, bless them, or they wanted nothing to do with me at all. Either of those worked for me, but there was no chance they were going to domesticate me. Not in this lifetime. So, to just chill out with someone not attempting to do either of those things is novel, and I like it.

She doesn’t know me, doesn’t want to fix me. She’s only here to be around for her friend at the end of the night, and maybe have a little fun and flirt with some guy—me.

My gaze flicks over her again. Long legs and a tiny waist, tall, slim and delicate. I could only imagine breaking someone so seemingly perfect. And she doesn’t deserve that.

The party continues around us, an air of electricity building as her fingers brush mine over the table.

“I thought you didn’t want to partake?” I ask with a smirk. Maybe there’s more to the girl than I first thought.

“I’m not getting in the pool,” she corrects. “But we could still have fun.”

A mischievous twinkle appears in her eyes as she undoes the top button of her blouse, her silk scarf fluttering onto the table between us as she stands.

Shuffling in the chair, I widen my legs, making space as I lay my arms on the rests, waiting to see where she goes with this. She wants to play, let the girl play. She’s still a little drunk, but less so than on arrival. The party is dying down behind us, and more than one of the girls is comatose at the side of the pool.

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