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“Hmmm,” Cassio hums deliciously as he pulls up his own pants and buckles them once more.
“What?” I ask, bending to pull my boots on swiftly.
“I don’t know. There’s just something about the thought of you leaving my cum inside you,” he murmurs, stepping close to me.
He puts one hand on the small of my back as his other fingers wiggle beneath the waist of my leggings and slide inside my panties. Two long fingers stroke between my wet folds, and I gasp as my clit pulses with a fresh wave of anticipation.
Cassio groans longingly. “I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about how fucking hot it is that you’re still soaking wet because of me.”
My eyes sink closed as I throb at the memory of him fucking me roughly. “Maybe we should just skip class this afternoon and see how wet you can really make me,” I offer, peering up at him through my lashes.
Swallowing hard, Cassio leans in to rest his forehead against mine, closing his eyes as if pained by the suggestion. “You have no idea how tempting that is.”
“Well then, why don’t we? Since Ilya and Nicolo have agreed to let us be together, and your father already knows about New York, I don’t see why we have to keep up with the pretense. He hasn’t gotten me kicked out or Rosehill, so wouldn’t that mean he’s not going to?”
Cassio shakes his head regretfully. “My father was pissed to learn that you were in New York with me. He might have been angrier about other things and decided at the time that he didn’t want to hear the reason behind it. Still, he explicitly told me to stay away from you. Again. So he could easily still kick you out of Rosehill if he learned that we’re actually dating. No, as much as I hate it, I think it’s best to keep us a secret until we don’t have to worry about your schooling anymore. I’m sorry, Bianka.”
He brushes a stray curl away from my face, his fingers gentle as they raise goosebumps on the back of my neck.
“It’s fine. We’ve managed this long. I’m sure we can make it one more semester. But if I ever see Lorenzo face to face, I just might give him a piece of my mind for being such a complete ass about it.”
Cassio chuckles deep in his chest, a devious grin spreading across his face. “I would love to see that.”
33
CASSIO
With our end-of-semester performances just days away, I’ve done nothing but spend time with Bianka in and outside of school, ensuring that everything will run smoothly forRomeo and Juliet. Our costumes are ready. The stage is set.
Then it will be winter break, and I’m dreading the time apart that will be forced upon Bianka and me since we’re keeping our relationship a secret from my father. I’ll still be able to set up a few destination dates, as usual, I’m sure.
But between the holiday celebrations where I’ll be expected at home and the lack of classes bringing us together, I’ll be seeing Bianka far less once our final performance is over. So, tonight, I’ve planned something fun for us to take my mind off my troubles.
“Where are you taking me?” Bianka demands behind the steering wheel of her Lexus LC.
“I’m not taking you anywhere,” I point out, keeping a low profile in the passenger seat as we head north toward Evanston.
Bianka shakes her head, smiling. “Okay, where amItakingyou?” she tries again.
“You’ll see,” I tease. “Take this exit here.”
Evanston unfolds before us, something of a miniature Chicago with a port on Lake Michigan and redbrick buildings that form a small downtown area of high-rises. Bianka’s smooth sports car winds its way through the streets to the inconsequential-looking parking lot of a short, one-story building amidst the taller buildings.
Bianka pulls into the lot and takes in our surroundings. “Okay, seriously. What are we doing?”
Without a word, I exit the car and walk around the front to offer her my hand. “You only have a few steps until you’ll find out.”
Accepting the assistance, Bianka rises from her seat, her blue-and-black striped sweater dress hugging the curves of her body and stopping mid-thigh, working perfectly with her knee-high black leather boots.
Her breath plumes around her full cupid’s-bow lips as she smiles daringly. I can’t resist. Pulling her close, I brush a light kiss across her lips before guiding her toward the grubby-looking tavern with a relatively inconsequential entrance along the side of the building.
The smell of cheap beer and sweat greets us as we enter the boisterous pub called Right On Key. Bianka’s eyes widen as she stops beside me, taking in the battered bar stools and worn-looking tables that fill the dim space. Then her eyes land on the quaint little makeshift stage.
Someone’s already setting up the speakers, casting a shiver-inducing blast of feedback into the loud crowd as they hook up the mic.
“Come on. Let’s grab that table,” I suggest close to her ear, pointing to a hightop in the far corner, not too close to the drunken, overly friendly energy.
“Welcome, everyone, to karaoke Friday,” the sound person says as Bianka slips into her seat.
