Page 13 of Deposed

Mr. Weaver raised his hands, indicating he wanted everyone to be silent. When the chatter died down, he continued. “It no longer matters if he is found guilty. If you have followed the articles in the press about International House, you will know that he illegally set up an adjunct to the academy, which made people believe they would receive the premium education available for all legitimate students of our fine establishment.”

I rubbed at my temples. The education here was good, but I would hardly call it premium.

“Until we can find a replacement headteacher, we, the Board of Governors, will run the school with the help of an administrator.”

Noises of uproar spread across the assembly hall. I glanced around. Everyone except for the triumvirate, who had probably heard about this development from Edward, looked pissed.

I leaned into Blake. “What’s the big deal? Chaloner was a hateful crook.”

He slipped a hand between my legs. “If you want to know, you can get down on your knees and suck me off.”

Heat flooded between my legs, and my cheeks warmed. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, trying to wrench his hand off on thigh.

He stayed firm as steel, leaned into me and murmured, “We own you, remember. That means we can do anything we like, and you’ll just take it. Now, part those pretty thighs, or else.”

“You’re an bastard,” I spat.

He nodded. “Perhaps, but I’m the bastard who holds your leash.” He trailed his tongue down the shell of my ear and sucked on my lobe, making my breath hitch. “Do as I say.”

While the head of the Board of Governors explained that they had considered options for the school, including closure, I relaxed my legs and let Blake’s fingers make a slow descent up the inside of my thighs. He used the most delicious of featherlight touches, pausing to rub small circles that made my core twitch.

Blake’s hot breath tickled the side of my neck. “I’m going to stick my fingers in you and make you suck on them. Right in front of the governors.”

I bit down on my lip and stifled a moan. The asshole would do anything to make me cry out and humiliate myself, and the worst part was that I didn’t want him to stop. An ache formed in my core, which built and built the closer his clever fingers reached their destination.

My legs parted a fraction wider, and the pulse between my legs pounded in time with the throbbing of my nub. Blake’s fingers meandered upward at a maddening pace that made slick heat gather between my folds.

“Hurry up,” I whispered between clenched teeth.

A deep chuckle reverberated in his throat, and he leaned over to murmur, “As you wish.”

When his fingertips brushed over my panties and grazed my slit, pleasure rippled through my core, and my nipples tightened. I let out a shuddering breath, loud enough to catch the attention of Henry at my other side.

Henry huffed a laugh, grabbed my wrist, and placed my hand on his crotch.

I gripped his hot, hardening bulge and squeezed. Hard.

He doubled over and groaned, “Oh, fuck!”

Everyone in the auditorium turned in our direction, but Henry composed himself, while Blake slid his hand back and turned to look at the row behind us. Snapping my legs shut, I placed my hands onto my lap and schooled my features into a semblance of innocence.

Mr. Weaver paused in his speech and glared up at the back of the room, where we sat. “Discipline is something else we will review within the academy. It’s my understanding that the previous headmaster allowed the return of expelled students in exchange for donations, but that practice ends now.”

I slid down my seat. He was most likely referring to me and how Rudolph had bribed Mr. Chaloner to allow me back to exact my revenge.

Henry leaned into me and whispered, “You’ll pay for this when we get you in private.”

“I look forward to it,” I whispered back.

* * *

Our first class of the afternoon was English Literature. I sat next to Henry, behind Edward and Blake, and behind us sat Coates, that rugby player from earlier, with Duncan, the boy with the thick glasses who seemed to have subscriptions to every British newspaper.

“I say, Coates,” Duncan said in a very loud voice. “Can you believe Bourneville and Simpson-West were having it off with each other?”

I turned around and gave Duncan a sharp look. What the fuck did he think he was saying?

Coates’ thick brows drew together. “What?”