Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I grin. “Anastasia’s covering for me. Our dorm window leads out to the roof above the common room in Marshall Hall.”
He chuckles deeply. “Glad to hear not all of that bratty bad girl rep of yours is made up.”
I gasp in mock scandal.
“Brat? Me?”
He grins. “With a capital fucking B, baby.”
“That why you spanked me?” I purr.
“It helps that you have a seriously spankable ass.”
I smile as we move close again, lips coming together.
“It’s late though,” he murmurs.
“You’ve got training in the morning.”
He nods, and I kiss him once more before I gingerly slide off of him. I glance down, my pulse jumping when I see just how freaking hard he still is.
“Tonight…” I bite my lip as I slide into the seat next to him while he scoots over to the driver’s side.
“Kind of a wild night, huh,” he murmurs.
I nod. “Beck, about what happened with Porter—”
“Kempton, you’re not ‘mine.’ I don’t own you.”
“I thought he was you.”
“And he thought you were someone else too.”
I bite my lip, blushing. “You’re not… I mean…”
“Mad?”
He arches a brow and slowly shakes his head.
“No. Like I said, I don’t own you, and Porter’s my brother, Kempton. Blood or not. He’s my best friend, and we share pretty much everything.”
He frowns.
“Do you regret it? With him, I mean.”
I blush.
“You can tell me.”
Slowly, I shake my head.
“No,” I whisper. “Is that bad?”
“Did you like fucking him?”
My blush turns even deeper, and I look down.
“Kempton—”
“Yes,” I whisper heatedly, blushing.
“You know he’s freaking the fuck out right now, right?”
“He is?”
Beckett snorts. “Kemp, you’re a fucking student. You’re his student. The guy is sweating fucking bullets right now.”
I bite my lip, glancing back at the house party.
“C’mon,” Beckett purrs in my ear. “I’ll drive you back.”
His big hand falls to my thigh, and when I feel him slide it higher and pull my leg wide, I bite my lip. I turn back, and when is see the fire in his eyes, I shiver in anticipation.
“You’re going to drive me back?”
“Yeah,” he growls lowly, and I whimper as his hand slides up between my legs, his fingers stroking over my pussy.
“But first, I need you to get in that back seat and spread your legs.”
I blush furiously, a small whimper falling from my lips.
“Oh yeah?” I gasp quietly. “And why’s that?”
“Because.”
His hand cups my jaw, and before I know it, he’s sliding against me, and kissing me deeply as his other hand slides around my waist.
“Because I’m not even close to being done with you.”
7
Porter
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
After an Uber ride back home from Justin’s place, I sit on the couch in my living room, staring at the menu screen for my Netflix account on the TV, but unable to even move to reach for the remote. All I can manage is to bring the glass of whiskey in my hand up to my lips and drink. Yeah, that I can do right now. I can do a lot of that right now.
My body feels cold, and I know my face is as pale as I think it is.
…The fuck did I do?
I fucked a student tonight. I slept with a barely legal, eighteen-year-old student. One of my godamn students, at that. The words “fired” and “public shaming” float through my whiskey-numbed brain as I sit there staring at nothing, remembering it all.
But, there’s the problem. Because the longer I think about it, even knowing how fucking wrong it was, and how fucked up it is, and how much godamn trouble I could be in right now, there’s another little facet to what happened with me and Kempton Carlisle tonight.
It was fucking amazing.
I know that’s twisted, and fucking sick. I know I should be disgusted with myself for laying hands on a girl her age, even if it was a mistake and even if I thought she was someone else. Except, I’m not. Because all I can think about is the way she moaned so fucking sweetly, and the way she begged for it harder. The way her little pussy tasted like candy. The way she moved on me, and the way her tight little cunt felt like fucking heaven sliding up and down my big cock.
What happened was wrong, no question. But fuck was she good. Like, mind-blowingly, best sex of my damn life good. And God help me, I want more of her.
I growl, clenching my jaw before I knock back the rest of my drink. The whiskey burns down my throat, and the hope is that it burns out the sins of my evening, and the wickedness of my thoughts about Kempton. But I know it’s a useless, fruitless venture. Because no amount of whiskey in the world could burn her out of my system. Not after tonight, and not…
My mouth thins to a line.
There’s another problem here. One that runs a lot deeper than the case of mistaken identity tonight. And that’s that tonight is not the first time my mind has lingered on Kempton. Tonight is not the first time my eyes have drunk her in a bit longer than they should have. The problem is, before tonight, I took Kempton to bed a hundred times in my head. Before tonight, God help me, I’ve dreamed of what that little pussy would taste like.