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My lips pull on Danny with searing, sealing suction, and he gives a powerful cry to the ceiling. His hands, once gentle brackets around my face, now squeeze severely without him even realizing. When I slide my tongue down his thick, pulsating cock, he rocks unsteadily on the back of his heels and slams a stifling palm across his sobbing mouth.
His bright eyes flicker across to Rory as if expecting some sardonic remark, but Rory says nothing. He seems otherwise preoccupied with the toy, which his fingertips play with, gliding along the edge and teasing the secret, slick grooves of my walls as they clench unbidden around him.
It’s instant. I cry against Danny, moaning harder, crying louder, my eyes beginning to leak. Every single muscle in me lights from head to toe, as if a switch has been tripped. My entire body is ablaze, a festival of illumination, receptors and synapses flickering like crazy down my frantic nervous system.
“And there we are,” Rory murmurs, with rich velvety arrogance, as his fingers caress my G-spot. The combination of him and the endlessly buzzing toy is an impossible double act.What are they imagining, I wonder to myself, as they control the toy from the other side of the country. Would Finlay and Luke ever picture this? Me spread on a desk, getting fucked on all fours by their toy while guzzling Danny’s thickly erect cock. This level of debauchery, occurring in our Lochkelvin politics classroom, the room where we each met for the first time?
As my system overloads, I squirm between two sets of cherishing hands. Rory has a direct line to every quivering vulnerability within me, and with a gentle crook of his fingers, he unleashes a torrent of pure, furious release.
Crash— and my hands slip from the desk. I clutch Danny’s hips like a lifeline as my body tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens around the merciless toy and Rory’s knowing, stroking fingers. My breath shudders around the head of Danny’s cock, as he grips me and holds me steady, wrapping muscled arms around my bare shoulders as my hips buck violently against Rory’s searching fingers, and my lower body spasms.
Again, I see shapes and lines, sketched forms, and the outlines of bodies. I shake my head, closing my eyes and giving in to pleasure. It washes over me like a wave, wetness seeping past Rory’s prone digits. The sound of me spurts in the classroom, deliciously obscene and only causing me to cry louder. This is pure filth, I think to myself as my lips skim the crown of Danny’s desperate, pink cock. It overflows with pearly white beads, and when I feed his length back into my hungry mouth, I taste the soothing smack of salt.
“Fuck, Jessa,” Danny whines, and he clutches roughly my sweat-slicked hair. “Fuck—”
And then he says nothing at all, suddenly bent and staggering over me, taut stomach muscles quivering, as he collapses hard against the desk. Cum cascades into my mouth in strong, pulsing jets, and I swallow with fierce suction, lapping at the side of his length and all the cum my mouth cannot hold. My cheeks fill up, and I swallow as much of it as I can, saliva dribbling and soaking and mixing with Danny’s cum, the winter air heated with the noise of our panting breaths and the lewd giveaways of our bodies as we give ourselves to carnal pleasure.
Rory’s hand slides slowly out of me, taking the toy with him. It’s physically easier, to leave my body, but it’s emotionally harder because I want them to remain there for the rest of time. I blink up at Danny, dazed, and read the deep affection in his gaze as he cradles my face, and my neck, and his hand skims all of me. The buzz of the toy persists, and Rory’s hand curls around my thigh. He fondles my slippery-wet folds until I’m arching into him so deeply I’m almost kneeling in prayer.
“Well,” Rory drawls, rubbing circles onto my taut clit. It’s all there is to say as I drink down the remainder of Danny’s cum, licking the sides of his cock clean, painting it wet and glossy with spit. “I believe if they could have witnessed this, Luke and Fin would have been most satisfied.”
Danny blows out a shaky breath, his forearms wrapped around my back, pulling my cheek to his lower abs. I kiss the crown of his twitching cockhead softly, suckling the tip to draw out as much pleasure as I can.
“I do so enjoy watching the two of you come,” Rory states quietly, and Danny’s cock gives a leap beside me as though receptive to this praise.
“But you haven’t come,” Danny murmurs, a sleepy edge to this observation. He sways on the spot, trying to balance himself. “You haven’t come in so long…”
It’s a good point, I think to myself, trying to cast my mind back. But it’s difficult to remember when nestled flush against the warm pillow of Danny’s belly. All I want to do is sleep and be warm and satiated as Danny cradles me and speaks in his soft, lullaby voice.
“I’m saving myself,” Rory answers, and whatever part of me is still awake and not completely reeling, causes my lips to twitch against Danny. Such a funny response.
“Saving yourself?”
Behind me, Rory places the buzzing toy down. It skitters across the desk, spreading my shiny wet release across the hard wood. Rory still teases my clit in slow, purposeful dials, causing my thigh muscles to clench and my body to be wracked once again with tremors.
“Yes. For marriage.”
Beneath me, Danny’s stomach stops moving.
Likewise, I follow him, my breath trapped in my throat as I blink incredulously at Danny’s towering cock.
And then Rory ticks one time too much on my clit, and among the lines and shapes of what could be, I see the most magnificent burst of stars.
36
We scour the news cycle, awaiting the moment Arabella’s notoriety breaks into Lochkelvin. It doesn’t happen the next day, and only begins to filter through the day after. When Arabella is pulled out of English class, she returns white-faced and shaken. I glance across at Rory, who tries to hide his delighted grin behind his copy ofA Scots Quair.
I watch Arabella carefully after that. In class, Arabella had always been enthusiastic, offering long-winded answers to teachers who often dismissed girls but seemed to make an exception for her, treating Arabella as an honorary boy. But now, she’s subdued, and the wind has left her sails. At dinner, Arabella picks at her food and contemplates the table dully. She stands midway through dinner, hauling her bulging bag over her shoulder, and leaves Li behind. Li, for what it’s worth, looks mildly concerned but doesn’t follow.
Arabella’s newfound fame tears throughout Lochkelvin, powered by the tongues of boys who hate girls. Even known sympathizers of Antiro seem to relish putting the boot in, becauseit’s only Arabella, and Arabella is the ultimate definition of cringe. On the staircase, I pass two third years chatting about what, at first, I assume to be swimming, but it turns out they’re referencing Arabella’s new nickname:Belly Flop.
‘Belly Flop’ spreads throughout the castle, spoken through snorts and braying male laughter. It’s childish, and for someone who’s been nicknamedBelly, I expect Arabella to rise above petty name-calling and her embarrassing moment in the spotlight. I expect her to arrive the following day, refreshed and empowered, her head held comically high and her snooty nose once again elevated.
She doesn’t.
For days, she never leaves her tower bedroom, and worry tugs at my conscience. All I can think about is Arabella — not quite through guilt, but a feeling of kinship. It seems incredible that something has managed to drag her down so deeply, to the murky subterranean depths of being dunked on. It’s a place where I’d once dwelled, feeling worm-like and miserable and alone, before becoming a chief. Her hurt reaction makes her feel human to me. It breaks through the facade of the high-powered Head Girl who spits out model answers and seems destined for influence and all the world’s treasures.
I want to say something to Arabella, to check that she’s all right. I even get as far as opening my bedroom door, but Li accosts me the instant I leave my room, and I recoil from her, picturing her fist against my face.
