Ruthless Kings (Windsor Academy 2)

I laugh mockingly, but right before she falls over the edge, I sink my thumb inside her ass up to the first knuckle. Jazz throws her head back as she whimpers and curses and screams through her release. A few thrusts later, I’m groaning as I join her in orgasm bliss, moving slowly through the aftershocks. After the tremors wane, we both collapse into a boneless heap, skin slicked with sweat, trying to catch our breath.

Jazz flips over as I roll to the side. She cradles my face in her hands and pulls me into a kiss, moaning as she tastes herself. Jesus, why is that always so hot? We take our time memorizing the topography of each other’s lips until they’re swollen and red. When we finally break for air, Jazz traces my eyebrow with her finger and stretches her neck to kiss what I assume is the bruise forming on my cheek. She grins when I softly kiss the middle of her forehead in return.

What in the hell is this woman doing to me? How did we go from a hard, dirty fuck to something so...intimate?

“Feel better?”

“Mmhmm.”

I brush some damp hair away from her face. “I’m glad I found you, Jazz.”

I’m not just talking about tonight, and if her sleepy smile is any indication, she’s well aware of that fact.

“I’m glad you found me, too.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JAZZ

“So, talk to me about Thanksgiving. What exactly should I expect?”

Kingston focuses on merging into traffic on the freeway before answering. “Every year, our fathers rent out the ballroom in a five-star hotel, and host a stuffy black-tie dinner for approximately five hundred guests.”

“What the fuck? Isn’t Thanksgiving supposed to be about spending time with your family, eating some turkey and pie?”

He shakes his head. "To them, it's an annual networking event—an opportunity to boast about their accomplishments or make new business contacts. There are a lot of influential men in attendance from many different fields. You'll probably recognize some celebrities, too."

“What’s my role in all of this?”

“I suspect Callahan will parade you around like a show pony.” Kingston looks irritated by the thought. “He’ll act like he couldn’t be happier to have you in his life. Expect you to play nice with Madeline and Peyton so you’ll look like one, big happy family. He won’t waste the chance to put a new coat of wax on his public image.”

“Sounds super fun,” I deadpan. “You’d think he wouldn’t want me there because I’m so ‘rough around the edges’, according to him.”

Kingston briefly turns his head toward me and smirks. “I, for one, happen to like all your curves and your edges.”

I give him my, you’re an idiot look, but since he’s paying attention to the road, I doubt he sees it. “It’s this Thursday. Why hasn’t anyone talked to me about it yet? If appearances are so important, wouldn’t you think Sperm Donor would’ve issued some kind of ‘behave yourself, or there will be consequences' warning?”

“Maybe they were waiting for the break from school to begin. I’m sure Madeline plans to sic her stylists on you; probably has an evening gown waiting and everything. And to be fair, you’ve been at my house since break started.”

It’s true; I have. Since the party, I can’t stand the thought of being alone. I have no doubt that fucker was telling the truth about knowing where I live. Plus, I’m not convinced Peyton didn’t purposely lead me right to him that night. She’s been dodging Kingston’s promised interrogation, which tells me she’s got something to hide.

I narrow my eyes. “Smug isn’t a good look on you, Kingston.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He shrugs innocently.

I scoff. "Bullshit. You don't want me staying at that house. Considering I've been with you for the last two nights, you think you've won."

The asshole grins. “I would never think such a thing.”

“Well, I’ve got news for you, buddy. I’m going home after we drop Belle off tonight.”

He gives me the side-eye. “We’ll see about that.”

I fold my arms over my chest and turn toward the window. “Ass.”

Kingston laughs. “You love it.”

I fight a smile. He’s right; I totally love our banter.