Page 99 of Twisting Beauty

“Swallow,” he commanded, his voice hoarse. “Every. Last. Drop.”

I forced myself to obey, his salty taste coating my bruised throat, shame and fury warring in my chest.

He tucked himself back into his sweatpants, that cruel smirk returning as he looked down at me while I brushed the tears off my cheeks.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, steadied myself, and rose to standing.

I waited. I don’t know what I was expecting. A thank you. Praise.

He turned his back on me, crossed to his desk, and lit a cigarette without acknowledging me or what I’d just done. The lighter clicked. Smoke drifted. He settled into his chair again and picked up his book.

The dismissal hit quick and mean, and I stood there for one stupid second, still expecting more from him.

I’d probably done a poor job of it. That was grand. If I had, he might not call me back.

The thought should have been a relief.

It wasn’t.

Something small and furious pricked low in my chest as I left his room, slamming the door shut behind me.

Back in my bedroom, I leaned my back against my door and made myself breathe, eyes shut, my hand pressed flat against my sternum until my pulse stopped trying to climb out of my throat.

It’s grand. Bodies were just bodies. I had known that long before Lorcan Lasair.

The problem was I didn’t quite believe that it had meant nothing.

The next night, he summoned me again by text.

I was only going because I had no choice.

That lie held until I was halfway down the corridor with my pulse already running too fast and butterflies in my stomach.

I hated it. Hated the small, humiliating thread of anticipation coiled low and tight inside me.

Lorcan was at his desk again when I entered, in the same gray sweats, but he wasn’t reading. His gaze landed on me at once and stayed there, moving over me in one slow sweep that made the room feel hotter and somehow smaller too.

He rose and crossed to me without a word.

For a moment, he just scrutinized me.

My hands trembled at my sides, my mouth gone dry. Heat crept up my neck, pooled in my cheeks, twisted low in my belly. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, hating the way my pulse skittered beneath my skin, betraying me with every rapid beat.

His hands found the straps of my nightgown and pushed them down off my shoulders. The fabric slid down and bunched at my waist. The air of the room hit my naked breasts and my nipples tightened to painful points.

His eyes moved over me. Something flickered in them, there and gone, before his assessing gaze came back to my face.

“Better.”

Heat rushed straight into my cheeks. But I didn’t move to cover myself up because some rotten part of me liked the way he was looking at me.

“Knees.”

I complied.

This time when I sucked him into my mouth, I urged that cold distance to come back over me.

But I was too present.