Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (58 page)

* * *

Thunder rumbled low in the distance. I peered down at my cell phone. There were no bars in the upper left corner where they usually were. I stood next to the window in my dorm, because I sometimes got better reception there.

“It’s the storm,” said Nell from her bed. “When it’s raining, this place is like a black hole for cell reception.”

I peered out the window. “It’s not raining.”

“Yet,” she said.

I sighed, holding my phone up higher.

“Who are you trying to call anyway?”

“My aunts,” I said. “I need to ask them something.”

“You might get better reception outside,” she said. “But, I mean, can’t it wait? It’s Saturday night. A bunch of us are going to Shakespeare’s later. Harper’s going to be there.” She winked.

At least I’d done a good job making Nell think I liked Harper and not Professor Alexander.

I sighed. “I’m going to run downstairs.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

I hurried out of the room, down the steps, and out the front door of the dorm. Outside, I could feel that the air had grown heavy with the promise of rain. It was strange. Earlier, I never would have guessed a storm was brewing.

The thunder rumbled again. It sounded closer. Or maybe it was only because I was outside.

I dialed on my phone.

It rang. Good. I had reception again.

I waited.

Two rings. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Where were my aunts?

The phone kept ringing. I lost count of how many times.

Why weren’t they picking up? They never went anywhere.

Someone answered. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” I said. It didn’t sound like any of my aunts.

“Teagan?”

She recognized me, anyway. “Yeah?”

“It’s Mom.” Her voice sounded different. I couldn’t quite explain it, but she sounded more... sane somehow.

“Mom?” my voice was soft.

“Gifts,” she said. “Gifts are more powerful than theft.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Go to him, Teagan.”

“Go to him? Mom, what do you mean? Where’s Aunt Kate? Are you there by yourself?”

And the phone clicked off in my hand. I turned to look at it. All the bars were gone.

I swallowed.

Lightning lit up the world.

I looked up at the sky. I could see the storm coming, all the angry purple clouds conquering the sky, rushing over the stars, blotting them out.

Thunder crashed—deafening.

The storm was almost here.

I turned to look at the dorm behind me, hesitating.

And then I took off at a run, dashing across the sidewalk. I knew where I was heading.

* * *

The wind was blowing the willow fronds all over his yard. The sky was midnight blue, dappled with clouds. The air was weighted down with moisture. It clung to me as I ran into his yard.

He was waiting for me, standing under the sky, his arms open wide as if he didn’t care that someone might see us.

I hurled myself at him, and he caught me.

Our lips met.

The sky opened.

Rain poured down on us, drenching us.

I shrieked. He laughed.

Hand in hand, we darted over the grass to the safety of his porch.

He pressed me up against the pillar, the place where I’d kissed him the first time. I could feel his hard body trapping me there. I surrendered to him, to his mouth.

“Miss Moss,” he gasped. “You are the only thing—”

And I shut him up with another kiss.

He pulled away, grabbing me by the hand again. He tugged me into the house.

Once inside, he picked me up, the way he had the night I’d been drunk and sick. He carried me up the steps and into his bedroom.

The room was red. Crimson wallpaper, a scarlet coverlet on his bed.

He set me down.

Our mouths met again.

Together, we peeled off each other’s sopping clothes, throwing them on the floor. His skin tasted like rain, like life, like something I needed.

He kissed my breasts, took my nipples in his mouth.

I sighed and gasped.

And when we were both naked—completely, gloriously naked—he took me in his arms, and I felt our damp flesh make contact. It slid and melded, fitting together. We were flawless together. Immaculate.

He carefully laid me down on his red, red bed.

I looked deep into his blue eyes. He looked back. And that was somehow ideal too. Perfect.

I was barraged by the rightness of all of it, by how wonderful it all felt. I struggled to breathe, to keep touching him. I wanted him close. I never wanted him far apart.

“Miss Moss,” he whispered.

“Professor,” I said.

“You are so...” He licked his lips. There was fear in his eyes. “Dazzling.”

I touched his face.

He kissed me, running his fingers over my body, making me moan.

His lips moved over my cheek, my jawbone, settling next to my ear. “I want to be inside you.”

“I’m yours,” I breathed.

He groaned.

I thrust a seeking hand between our bodies until I could hold him, tighten my grip on his hardness.

He made a strangled noise.

I stroked him gently for a minute.

“Bedside table,” he managed.

“What?”

He reached for the table, throwing open the drawer, and then presenting me with a foil wrapper.

Right. Good. At least one of us was thinking about things like that.

I unrolled the condom onto him.

He closed his eyes.

And then I guided him to my opening. I put him there, against me. I let go of him.

He opened his eyes.

Our gazes locked as he slid into me.

I cried out.

He sighed.

“Professor—”

“Call me Carter.”

* * *

Carter

“Carter,” she repeated, gazing up at me and looking so beautiful it nearly killed me.

“Teagan,” I rasped, and I buried my face in her shoulder.

Because it was too much. My cock was moving inside her. Her body was gripping me, holding me, and that was magnificent, but the most intense thing was
looking
at her.

I thrust harder, trying to drive it out or something. I wasn’t sure what
it
was. The look in her eyes. The sound of her voice. The...

Something.

Whatever it was.

I didn’t know, but it had started the minute I’d seen her on my lawn, and I was lost to it now. I’d never felt anything quite like it before.

I tried to fuck her harder, thinking that if I was forceful, it would take the power out of whatever was happening to me, would make it something I understood.

I’d jammed my dick into enough women over the years. And nothing had ever felt quite like...

But she made noises the faster I moved, the harder I moved, and those noises burrowed into me, niggling me.

They aroused me. They inflamed me.

But it was because I was making her feel good. I was giving her pleasure.

And that was the most important thing to me right now.

This wasn’t just about my cock or about my orgasm. It was about her. About us. About the two of us being one.

Shit.

I raised up to look at her. “You okay?”

Her eyes were barely open. Her lips were parted. Her skin was a little flushed. “You feel so amazing.”

Her words meant more to me than the sensation of her pussy gripping me.

I stroked her cheek.

She sighed. She was gorgeous. I’d do anything for her.

I trailed my fingers down to find her breast. I toyed with a nipple.

I was rewarded by a gratifying moan.

I smiled. I liked making her feel good.

“Carter,” she said again.

I smiled wider.

I kissed her.

I bent down to get at her nipple with my mouth. It was hard to do while I was still inside her, but the way she reacted made it all worth it. She writhed under me, her pussy went into little spasms.

Spasms...

I lifted my mouth from her. “Baby, can you come this way?”

“Hmm?”

My experience with girls this age had never once resulted in my giving a girl an orgasm from penetration alone. I badly wanted Teagan to come. I wanted to give her as much pleasure as I possibly could.

“Will you come this way?” I said. “From me inside you?”

She appeared to be trying to think. “Maybe?”

“Have you ever?”

She shook her head. “But, Carter, it never felt like this before either.”

I groaned, finding her lips. “I know what you mean.”

She sighed into my mouth.

And we were both lost to words for a little bit.

But a stirring in me woke me up. I was getting close. I didn’t want to come without getting her there first, and I forced myself to slow a little, not to think about how good it felt.

Of course, she wasn’t making that easy for me.

Her hips pumped enthusiastically into me.

I didn’t have a lot of time.

I could tell she was enjoying herself, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted her to climax.

I grabbed her hand.

She let me move it between her legs.

“Touch yourself,” I whispered. “Make yourself come for me.”

Her fingers moved under mine. She sighed.

I kissed her.

In a few moments, I could tell when she got swept away by it. Her eyes clenched closed. Her tipples tightened. Her skin went even paler, and her whole body began to undulate and squirm. She moaned things. Sounds. Words. I watched her body react. I watched her to give in to her pleasure.

It was the most amazingly arousing thing I’d ever seen.

But when she said my name again, that was when I went over the edge with her, when I tipped off into outer space, convulsing into her, pumping out my bliss.

My eyes slammed shut, her body was dark and warm and wonderful, and I didn’t know anything more perfect.

She was kissing me. I was kissing her.

It was elation. Ecstasy. Exaltation.

And then it was sleepy warmth. Softness. Mouths against mouths. Slippery. Soothing.

Her voice was hoarse. “That was...”

“Yes,” I mumbled. I wanted to stay like this, still buried inside of her, growing soft in her body, until I fell asleep. I couldn’t think of anything better.

But you weren’t supposed to do that with condoms, because they’d fall off and get lost and spill out...

I grimaced. And, with effort, I pulled away from her.

She made a soft sigh of disappointment, reaching for me.

I took off the condom, tying it off, and tossed it in the trash can next to the bed. Then I lay back down with her.

She snuggled close, laying her head on my shoulder.

I ran my fingers over her back, over the curve of her waist. She was so soft. Perfect.

I kissed her forehead. I closed my eyes. “I don’t think it worked.”

“It worked for me,” she said, surprised. “I thought you—”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean that I don’t think doing this is going to stop my obsession with you.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “Yeah, me either.”

I pulled her closer. I didn’t ever want to let her go. “Something about this... It wasn’t the same as before.”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “It was... consuming.”

How did I explain to her that she’d somehow gone from being a very pretty girl with nice tits—a girl I wanted to fuck—to a person whose pleasure and comfort mattered more to me than my own? What did that even mean, anyway?

But one thing was clear. She wasn’t going to be in any ritual. I wouldn’t let that happen to her. I’d protect her. I’d stop it.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“About?”

“About us,” she said. “We can’t sneak around forever.”

“Maybe we should leave.”

“Leave?” She lifted her head. “There’s something about Scales and Fangs, isn’t there?”

What did she know? Well, it didn’t matter. She’d come to me, anyway, hadn’t she?

But she wouldn’t have done that if she’d known that I intended to rape her and destroy her. She must not know that. I didn’t want her to know that. I was ashamed of it. And besides, I’d never do it now.
Never
.