A Deal With the Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 2)

“No, I do,” I burst, taking her face in my hands. I can feel the heat of her cheeks beneath the pads of my thumbs. “So badly, you have no idea. I just thought I’d have more time to plan.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Plan what?”

“How to do this without hurting you.”

“Reyn,” she says, mouth quirking into a grin. “It’s totally fine. I talked to Afton, Elana, and Georgia about it. They all say it hurts, but only a little and not for long. Come on, you know I’m not scared of a little pain.”

“No, I don’t mean that.” I shake my head. “Obviously that’ll hurt, and that… that sucks.” I get lost in this little brain-loop of awareness that, yes. I’m going to hurt her. With my dick. It’s not a good feeling to have. “But mostly, I meant…” My eyes drop to her leg. “Sex is physical, and I wasn’t sure if—”

“Oh,” she cuts me off, blue eyes full of realization.

I rush to assure her, “Not that I think you can’t do it or handle it. But if there’s a way I can make it easier or better, then I wanted to know. Before.”

There’s a moment of pensive silence, and I worry that I’ve pissed her off. There are few things Vandy hates more than being babied. Luckily, she just looks at me and says, “It’s not like I have any experience, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. We can just work it out, right? Together.”

This is the scariest thing about it. The trust. She has this faith in me to make it good—to make it worth it. This girl—the girl I love and want and obsess over constantly—is offering to do the one thing I think about three times a second, and here I am, scared shitless. Eventually, she’s going to realize that I’m not good enough.

I really don’t want that moment to be now.

“Yeah,” I say, mustering a confidence I don’t feel. “We’ll work it out.”

The skin over her ribs is warm and smooth when my fingertips drag over it, mouth taking hers in a slow, long kiss. She winds her arms around my neck and her tits press into my chest. It takes my breath away, this heavy feeling swelling in my throat. It’s full of things I already know I won’t say. That I love her. That I’d die for her. That being with her like this is better than stealing. It’s better than drugs. It’s better than anything.

I try to tell her with my kiss, with the way my hand cups her tit in my palm, gentle and testing. I swallow the sound she makes and wrap an arm around her waist, steadying her as I move us toward the bed.

I glide my hands down her back, over the curve of her ass, and lift her, placing her on the bed. She sits before me, eyes staring into mine, and softly drags her nails down my chest, traveling below my belly. They hook into the towel that’s honestly barely hanging on at this point. I just watch her back as she tugs it away, letting it fall around my feet.

Her eyes dip down, taking me in slowly, reverently. Her hands touch me like she’s not even nervous about it. Like she knows this is hers. Like she owns it. Her palms drag down my hips, eyes fixed to where I’m hard and eager, cock flushed and ready.

I suck in a deep breath when she wraps a hand around me, giving my cock a soft stroke. A tremor shudders through my body. She’s watching her hand on me, interested, inquisitive, and I let her play with it for a few moments before capturing her wrist.

“Keep doing that and this’ll be over before it begins.”

Her eyes jump up to mine, flashing in grati

fication. I slide my forearm under her lower back and gently ease her up the bed before dipping back in to capture her lips. Vandy kisses like it’s still something new. She takes her time, patient and curious, and gives me that same frission I feel when I’m breaking into something. No one else has this. Kissing me like this is all she knows. I’m all she knows. Beyond the layers of crushing anxiety I feel about it all, there’s definitely something satisfied and possessive lurking beneath.

Her mouth chases mine when I pull away, but I sit back on my heels, fingers tugging at the button on her jeans. She’s flushed all the way down her chest, hips lifting as I tug them down her thighs. When I don’t pull her panties down with her jeans, she reaches down to do it for me, sliding them down her hips.

“Fuck, V.” I look at her spread before me, and it’s almost surreal. Her hair’s fanned out on my pillow, mouth parted as she watches me in return. There’s something nervous and soft in her eyes, and her knees graze against my bare hips when she tries to close them. I soothe my hands over her thighs, running them up to her hips. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

She sinks her teeth into her lip when I bend down to press an open-mouthed kiss to the tattoo on her thigh. I linger there for far too long, lathing it with my tongue, licking up one thigh, and then the other. I suck and nip, embarrassingly self-indulgent about it, before I crawl on top of her, kissing her hips, her scars. Her hair fans behind her like a golden halo, and it only slams it home that I’m defiling her, claiming her, taking something that can never be given back. She must sense my hesitation because she pushes up and captures my lips, coaxing me into a searing kiss. A kiss so good, combined with her roaming, curious hands, that makes the doubts vanish and my lust rush forward.

She makes a sharp sound when I take her peaked nipple into my mouth. “Reyn…”

I hum as I palm the other one, spine going liquid at the feel of her squirming beneath me. Her hips cant upward and the soft skin of her thigh brushes the tip of my cock. I unthinkingly chase it, ultimately grinding down into her center, thrusting mindlessly against all of her warmth.

“Shit,” I rasp, pulling away. We’re getting ahead of ourselves.

“Sorry,” she says, but she doesn’t look it. “You’re just really good with your hands. Catching footballs, swiping keys…” I dip my fingers between her legs, and she shivers. “And that. You’re good at that.”

She’s already wet for me, mouth falling open as I sink a finger inside. I take some time opening her up, swallowing the little sounds she makes with aborted, distracted kisses. At some point, her leg hitches over my hip and I have to clench my teeth against the wave of frantic want that explodes in me. I want to feel every inch of her skin pressed against mine.

Quietly, she asks, “Do you have a condom?” and I pull away.

It already feels like I just ran suicides. “What kind of Devil would I be if I wasn’t prepared?” I fumble for the drawer by my bed and shake a condom out of the box. I’m impulsive, but not stupid. I didn’t need my dad to give me his gross horny teenager talk to know better than that. I tear the package with my teeth, intensely aware of her leaning back on her elbows, staring.

I pause, dick in hand, rubber at the tip. “What?”