Queen of Hawthorne Prep

“Yes,” I yelp.

“Good.” He deepens the penetration, his finger moving in a steady tempo as his other hand slides toward my clit before rubbing insistent circles against it.

“How much do you want me, Summer?” The slyness of his voice wraps around me, cocooning me in pleasure.

When I press my lips together, refusing to answer, the pressure on my clit increases and I groan, moments away from splintering apart.

“Tell me,” he demands, pausing as the finger filling my backside slides from me before surging forward again. A heartbeat passes as the intensity spiraling within becomes almost too much to bear. Any moment, I’ll fall to pieces beneath his fingertips. “I want your words.”

The breath lodges at the back of my throat as waves of ecstasy ripple through me. “So much,” I reluctantly whisper, giving in to him. I’m so close to falling apart. Just a little bit more…

“Then beg for it.”

No.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip, unwilling to allow a single sound to escape. No matter how much I want the pleasure he’s capable of doling out, I refuse to plead. When I remain silent, the delicious pressure on my clit and anus increases, pushing me relentlessly closer to the precipice. As I’m about to dive headfirst over the cliff, he pulls back. It’s like a ferocious storm gathering strength only to fall apart at the very last second before fading into nothingness.

And then it starts all over again. Climbing and building until it reaches a fever pitch.

“Do you want to come?” he murmurs, breaking the heavy silence that has fallen over us.

“Yes,” I whimper, needing him to shove me over the edge so I’m able to forget for a few mindless moments that we are nothing more than enemies.

That we will always be enemies.

“All you have to do is say the magic words,” he purrs.

A moan slips free as his fingers pick up speed. I can’t take much more of this sweet torment.

I can’t.

“Please.” I hate myself for giving in to his demands.

“Please, what?”

I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Please,” I gulp, unable to stop the rest from tumbling out in a rush, “make me come.”

His fingers turn relentless, and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as intensity crashes over me. As I stand perched on the cliff, orgasm seems imminent. The air becomes trapped in my lungs as every muscle coils tight with greedy anticipation. There has been no joy to be found over the last week. I need this. I need to feel the hot licks of pleasure pumping through my body, making me forget all the anguish. If only for a few fleeting seconds.

My fingers tangle in the sheets as I arch and then…

Nothing.

When his fingers vanish from my body, my eyes spring open and a strangled gasp falls from my lips as the force building disintegrates, leaving behind an ache so vicious that it borders on agonizing.

“On second thought, I’ll follow your suggestion and find Sloane.” A ruthless cruelty threads its way through his voice as he rises from the bed. “Sleep well.”

He saunters to the door before pausing over the threshold. “Oh, and welcome to Rothchild Mansion.” With that, he closes the door behind him, locking me inside the dark space.

Sexual frustration swells, but there is no outlet. Instead, it settles in my core. The stifled breath filling my lungs escapes in a rush as I flip onto my back and yank the covers over my naked body.

I’m an idiot for not expecting this. I turn onto my side and curl up into a tight ball, staring sightlessly at the wall of windows. Kingsley’s new mission in life will be to break me.

And I can’t allow that to happen.

Chapter Seventeen

Six o’clock rolls around much too fast. I’ve barely closed my eyes, and the alarm is going off the next morning. As tempting as it is to skip school, that’s not possible unless I’m in the mood to repeat senior year, and honestly, I’d rather slit my throat than spend any more time than necessary at Hawthorne Prep.

For just a moment, I stare at the vast stretch of ceiling that soars over my head. It’s been exactly one week since Dad died. A deep pang of sadness fills my heart.

How have seven days already slipped by?

The first couple were shrouded in numbness. There had been a funeral to plan and Mom to take care of. A flurry of activity that seemed unending. Now that Dad has been laid to rest in a family plot outside of Hawthorne, the world is once again pressing in at the edges. The arrival of Keaton’s contract last night signaled that life refuses to be ignored any longer.

With a huff of breath, I throw off the covers and roll from the mattress. Even though the bed is comfortable, I tossed and turned after Kingsley left me high and dry.