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She hisses in pain.
“You’re even wetter now, right?”
“Bite me,” she hisses.
So I do, biting down on the smooth skin of her neck and sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
“Ouch.”
“What? I was only doing what I was told,” I say, sitting back up and inspecting my mark before looking into her dark emerald eyes. She looks fucking stunning like this, all splayed out beneath me and ripe for the taking.
“Since when do you do that?”
“When it means I get my way.”
“What is it you want, Cole?”
“I don’t remember wanting anything. You were the one waiting for me in my bedroom. Were you thinking of the last time you were up here?” I drop my lips to her neck once more, sucking on the soft skin and biting my way down until I hit her collarbone. She squirms beneath me but never once tells me to stop.
“Who says that was the last time?” My eyes flash up to hers. “There’s a reason I had Conner’s clothes in my dorm, after all.”
“You’re lying,” I state, full of confidence that the only time either of us have touched her was that night.
“Am I? Would you bet your freedom on it?”
I shake my head as I stare down at her. “Oh, preppy. You’re going to regret playing with me.”
She arches her back, offering herself to me despite the fact that she’s fully clothed.
“Do your worst, asshole. I’ve dealt with bigger monsters than you think you are.”
A low chuckle falls from my lips as I look down at the swell of her breasts. It would be so easy to reach out and expose her, to suck one into my mouth and make her cry out in pleasure. “I really, really doubt that, Hadley.”
“Try me.”
A smile curls at my lips and she attempts to swallow her apprehension. Hadley tries to look like nothing will affect her, that I don’t scare her, but I see deeper.
“Oh God,” she cries as I take her breasts in my palms and squeeze. Her hips thrust as she once again arches for me.
“Not God, preppy. The Devil.”
Chapter Three
Hadley
A low growl rumbles in Cole’s chest as I rub shamelessly against him, desperate to relieve the ache building deep inside me.
But I didn’t come here for this.
Or maybe part of me did.
Cole Jagger ignites something inside me, something I thought I’d long buried.
“Fuck, preppy.” He massages my breasts in the palms of his hands, dragging his thumb over my hardened nipple.
A needy whimper spills from my lips. Cole’s long fingers work the buttons of my blouse open, his hot mouth closing around the lace shell of my bra. “More,” I cry, the contrast between his wet tongue and the scratchy lace making pleasure race through me.
My hands go to his head, desperate to feel his hair, but he snags my wrists and pins them above my head. “No touching.” He growls the words around my nipple, making me cry out again.
