buried deep inside you. I’m thrusting in and out of you. Then I’m dragging my tongue over your clit. Rub the vibrator over yourself and feel my tongue. It’s soft and hot. I’m teasing you. I’m lapping down around your cunt. Licking back up to your clit, so everything is soft and slick.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Work my fingers in and out of myself. Hold the bullet to my clit.
“I’m thrusting into you. Slamming my hips into yours straining to get deeper. You spread your legs as far as they can spread and I bury myself in you.”
“Yes,” I pant. I don’t mean to. I just... can’t help myself.
“I’m coming now, Cleo.”
I hear a low, rough groan—and that’s all it takes for me. I roll over the edge with a little gasp, and I hear Kellan’s chuckle. “Did you come, Cleo?”
I shut my eyes and breathe as he says, “I blew my load imagining that pussy. This is the last time I’m going to imagine it.”
I shake my head and curl over on my side, hugging myself as all the tingles work themselves out of me. “You’re wrong,” I say. “I didn’t come.”
Another laugh. “I heard you panting. You’re lying.”
“That’s not true.” I can’t believe I did that. Holy shit.
“Tomorrow, Cleo. Pack your bags.”
It’s 7:48 a.m. when I drop the post card in one of the campus mail bins and trudge toward my first class: calculus for business. I plan to start my own learn-to-paint shop, so I know I’ll need some business skills. I just don’t understand why calculus is necessary. And I definitely don’t understand why they put the sorority houses on the east side of campus when so many science and math buildings are on the far west side.
That’s a lie. I do. Sexist bastards.
I look down at my feet as I walk—at my ankle-high leather boots and black leggings. I’m wearing a black shawl, too, with a black shirt underneath. All black today. Because it suits my mood.
I feel... weighted. As if there’s an itty-bitty black hole behind my sternum, collapsing me from the inside out. I just want to sink down to the ground. And spread my legs. And think of...
Damn.
Maybe I’m ovulating today? Because I want him. Like... I totally, illogically, inappropriately want that asshole, Kellan Walsh, inside me. Right now.
I cross an arm over my chest to try to hold this feeling inside, where it’s safe. I feel so much the opposite today. As if something small and soft could break me. Maybe it’s the clouds. The puffy, dark gray clouds riding low over the campus’s stately brick buildings remind me of the instructions Robert sent me what feels like forever ago: not a sunny day, and not a cloudy one. I inhale deeply and feel the pressure in my chest again.
I’m worried—okay?
Anyone in my shoes would be.
Nothing will be right again until I get another note from “R.” Or until BTM returns my call or my letters. Until then, I’m waiting. I hate waiting.
I follow the curve of the wide, brick concourse, cutting a flat path beneath mossy oaks, between bike racks and pebble paths. I shift my thoughts to Kellan Walsh, where they’re safer.
It’s official: I’m bespelled, just like the others. On paper he screams “horrible idea,” but in experience... well, he screams horrible idea, but also “hot fuck.” I didn’t think of myself as someone extra susceptible to the whims of my pussy, but I guess with the right guy, anyone can be swayed.
Why is he the right guy? I don’t have a clue.
Right dick, I correct myself. I only want him for that gorgeous cock of his. And his sexy voice. And that body...
Fuck.
I arrive at the Braun Mathematics Building in a crap mood and stop in the doorway to pull my shoulder-length, brown-black hair into a pencil twist. Like everything today, it feels heavy.
I literally drag my feet the rest of the way to Room 120. I pull my iPhone out of my bag and check it before I step into the classroom.
Nothing. Yet. I have a feeling I’ll hear from Kellan sometime today. Or see him. And when I do... I shake my head. I have no idea how I will handle seeing him in person after last night.
I sigh, and actually relax a little as I open the door, because at least in here I can turn my thoughts to something concrete.
I push through the door with my right elbow, curling my fist toward my