Page 38 of Deposed

“It’s been ages since we’ve put you in your place,” he said in a low, smoky voice. His gaze flickered to my lips. “You’re stepping out of line and clearly in need of…”

Heat tingled between my legs. “What?”

“A long, slow, and humiliating inspection.” His arms encircled my waist, and his hardness pressed against my ass. A bolt of arousal shot through my core. “With our tongues.”

I bit down hard on my lip and glanced at Edward, who gave me a wink and a smirk. It looked like my stint as Edward’s birthday present had given them an indication of what they had been missing.

Henry ran a finger down one of my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure sparking down between my legs. At my indrawn breath, his verdant eyes danced with excitement. “We’ll have you on the desk.”

“On your hands and knees,” said Blake.

Edward scooted forward and cupped my ass. “I’ll perform the internal inspections, of course.”

Heat flooded my body, and the muscles of my core pulsed with need. A horny triumvirate was tempting, but I only had a single chance to deal with Charlotte. I still owed her for the gauntlet and for the countless other pranks she participated in during my first term.

Later, as I walked through the hallway to Creative Writing, I caught sight of one of Coates’ friends, a rugby player who stood five feet seven inches tall but had the bulk of someone much larger. The bridge of his nose twisted to the left like a parenthesis symbol and ended in a bulbous tip, and a few of his front teeth had been knocked out. I pursed my lips. Obviously, the team members weren’t doing so well without Henry.

The boy grabbed the arm of a younger girl, a fifth year who wore her hair in a blonde bob that framed her delicate features. She and her friends stopped to glare at the rugby player.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

He let go and stepped backward. “You haven’t replied to my texts.”

I stood close by and pretended to study the plaque beneath the painting of a serious-looking man clad in a gray wig. It curled past the collar of his burgundy velvet jacket down to his shoulders. Apparently, he was one of the headmasters during the seventeenth century.

“What do you expect?” she hissed. “I told you to stop damaging yourself with rugby. You’re no good at it, but you didn’t listen.”

The boy glared at the girl for several moments before saying, “You’ll change your tune at Underwood’s party.”

“What does that mean?” she replied.

I held my breath. What could he think to achieve in less than a week to impress her?

Instead of answering, he walked away with his hands in his pockets. I glared after him. Was he just trying to create a bit of intrigue for himself, or did Charlotte plan something nefarious?

The girl followed after him. “Patterson-Bourke?”

They disappeared into the crowds, and I sent my boys a silent apology. As much as I wanted to play their games, I needed to know what Charlotte had planned.

* * *

On Saturday after classes, I rushed back to my room and shimmied on a tank top, skinny jeans, and a leather jacket, then snuck out of the academy grounds in an Uber and took the train to London. It was still light by the time I arrived in Victoria, and I took the number eleven bus to Fleet Street. Not having any allowance since I’d told Rudolph I wouldn’t spy for him had taught me the virtues of being frugal.

Jackie waited for me at the Saturday Correspondent’s office with Tom, the tech guy, and a group of interns. She made me sit on a desk chair by to bank of computer screens while Tola, the black intern with chin-length braids from the Valentine’s Day Massacre, arranged my hair with cameras disguised as hairpins.

Tom watched the screens and instructed Tola to make adjustments to improve the sound quality. Once they were both satisfied with the cameras in my hair, Tom handed me a soda bottle, a watch, and a necklace then explained how each hidden camera worked.

Jackie sauntered back from a cigarette break, reeking of tobacco. I asked her, “Won’t anyone else be at the venue with me?”

“We’ll send a couple of girls five or ten minutes after we see that it’s not a group of brats playing spin the bottle.” Jackie smirked. “My interns won’t have any trouble gatecrashing if Charlotte Underwood is really holding a sex party.”

I blew out a long breath. “This is the last time.”

“Yes.” Jackie coughed into her fist. “Rudolph is grateful for any assistance you can provide.”

Yeah, sure. “Even if it turns out they’re only playing spin the bottle, this will still be the last time.”

Jackie ran a hand through her bleached hair and pursed her lined lips. “He knows.”