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’m not proud of it. I’m not bragging. I know it’s fucked up, even if she’s been eighteen since the day I started at Winchester. It doesn’t matter. “Legal” or not, she’s still a student of mine. The moral implications of me lusting after her are earth-shattering. Except, I can’t stop. And after tonight, I know I’ve taken a hit of a drug I’ll only want more of, heedless of the consequences.
I lean forward to the coffee table and grab the bottle up, dumping another heavy splash into my glass before I sit back. My mind replays the pure bliss of feeling Kempton Carlisle coming on my cock as I sip, and just then, the door to the apartment opens, and Beckett steps in.
I look up, my jaw tight as I set my glass on the table.
“How did…” I frown at the look on his face. “What’s up?”
Beckett holds my gaze unflinchingly.
“Beck, what’s up?”
“We need to talk.”
He kicks his shoes off and walks over to the couch. He sits next to me, his breath coming out heavily as he reaches for the glass in front of me.
“Hey,” I growl, swatting his hand away. “Hands off.”
“Really?” He mutters. “After what I walked in on tonight?”
My brow furrows, and I shoot him a grim look before I slowly slide the glass his way.
“Thanks.”
“How bad is it.”
Beckett takes a small swallow of my drink and sets the glass back down, his eyes staring at it.
“She’s not going to say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Beck, you know I’d never have—”
“I know, man,” he says quietly.
“You’re into her.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I swear, shaking my head and rubbing my temples.
“Fuck, man. You must think I’m the worst fucking brother in the world.”
Beckett shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “Nah, I don’t. Look, you didn’t know.”
“But man, you like her.”
“Do you?”
I blink, taken aback as he turns his gaze to me, slowly sipping my glass before he slides it back to me.
I swallow, clearing my throat. “She’s a student, Beck.”
“And?”
“Of course not.”
He smirks.
“She’s beautiful.”
“She’s eighteen,” I growl.
“Exactly.” Beck shrugs. “She’s an adult.”
My eyes narrow. “Stop it. What are you trying to do, get me into deeper shit here?”
“I’m just saying, she’s gorgeous, hot, sassy, and she’s an adult. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“I haven’t.”
Beck rolls his eyes.
“Drop the boy scout shit, man.”
“It’s not boy scout—”
“I mean you fucked her tonight, Porter.”
My jaw grinds.
“I didn’t know,” I growl.
“But you did. So, are you into her?”
“If you’re asking because you’re into her, Jesus Christ man, it’s not like I’m going to be competitive with you over her. She’s a fucking student.”
“You’re evading the—”
“No, I’m not into her.”
“So, you didn’t enjoy feeling that tight little pussy riding your cock?”
“Fuck off man,” I hiss. “No, I’m not into her,” I lie.
Oh, and it’s a lie alright. Because even now, I can’t stop thinking about her.
“So, it wouldn’t bother you if she went off and screwed someone else after you?”
“Nope,” I say thinly, even if inside, a rage burns at the thought.
Beckett nods slowly, reaching for my drink and taking a big gulp before he sets it back down, staring at the wall. Slowly, clearing his throat, he turns my way.
“And what if it was me?”
My jaw clenches, and my eye twitches.
Beckett grins. “Thought so.”
“Don’t be weird, man.”
“How am I being weird?”
“That made up scenario of yours is weird.”
“Why?”
I shake my head. “For the obvious reason, Beck. Because we’re close as brothers, and us both being with the same girl would be… shit, I don’t know.”
“Why? We’ve shared a lot growing up.”
“I think a girl would be different.”
“Only if you made it different.”
I narrow my eyes. “Where you going with this, man?”
“Nowhere.”
Beck stands, but I glare at him as he reaches down for my glass again.
“Hang on,” I say thinly. “Did you get laid tonight?”
“Maybe.”
My jaw clenches.
“With who?”
“I’m going to bed, Porter.”
I grab his arm, hard.
“With who, Beck—”
“With Kempton,” he suddenly spits, whirling to me. The room goes silent, our eyes locked.
“I slept with Kempton, man. In my Jeep.”
He knocks back the last of the whiskey in the glass and sets it down, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Night, Porter.”
I watch in silence as he walks away, down the hall to his room. I hear his door closing, and slowly, I let the air out of my lungs as I sink back onto the couch.
I want to feel cold. Or angry. Or fuck it, furious. But then, I’m not. Not in the slightest, actually, which is odd, because I can be a very, very jealous man.
But for one, what claim do I have on her? Fucking none. I didn’t even know who I was with. But then, Beckett’s not wrong. I have looked. I’ve watched. And of course, I’ve thought about her. Any red-blooded man would. That red hair, those blue eyes. That body built for sin—tight and curvy in the right places. An ass I could bend over in front of me and run my tongue over for hours. Legs I could spread around my hips while I plunge my cock deep in her little cunt.