In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,106
me a perv?”
“Only in certain circles,” Creed drawls, turning onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. “I hate Tristan, but I have wondered how he got so many girls to sleep with him. Are his kisses like magic or something?”
There’s a knock at the door, and we both pause as I get off the bed to check the peephole, and then open it carefully. Tristan is waiting there, leaning against the wall next to the door and then swinging in like he owns the place. He studies Creed, all lounged out on the bed.
“What are you two up to in here?” he asks, voice smooth and dark.
“Just discussing what a little male-male action might look like on you two.”
Tristan pauses for a moment, and then he walks over to the bed, crawls up between Creed’s legs and touches the side of his face.
“The fuck are you doing?!” Creed manages to get out before Tristan leans down and captures his lips. It’s a long kiss, too, much longer than you’d expect from two assholes who hate each other. Creed puts his boot between them and pushes Tristan off with a shove. “What the hell …” He slides his arm across his lips as Tristan smirks and stands back up, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Does that suffice?” he asks, and Creed flips him the finger.
“You only wish it would go further than that,” he snaps, and Tristan shrugs, like he’s not entirely opposed to it. I try not to hold out too much hope.
“Did you come over here for a reason?” I ask, and Tristan glances my way with a small tilt of his head, raven-dark hair sliding across his forehead.
“Do you still have that recording you made of William?” he asks, and I nod. I managed to get a recording of Mr. Vanderbilt treating his son like trash, calling him a bastard, threatening him. Although there’s no video, the sound of him slapping his kid is pretty damning. “Why?”
“I don’t want him to show up at graduation and make a thing out of it. He tried to come here and convince me to go with him for fall break. But I’m not meeting his demands, and I’m tired of being hit. Send me the file, would you? I’m going to email it to his new wife.”
I nod again, and Tristan smiles tightly, giving Creed a saucy little wink before he leaves the way he came and closes the door behind him. Damn. And here I thought those two might get down and dirty. Maybe later, at Bornstead U or something.
Not that I’m counting on it.
Once I tell them my choice, one or all of them might change their minds on what they want to do for college.
I sit back down on the bed, and Creed teases his fingers up my thigh again, the way he did in the library that one day. Only this time, we’re in my room together, and there’s nobody around to see. I take his hand and guide his fingers to the clasp of one of the garters, making him snap it open so the sock bunches around my calf and leaves my leg bare.
“You know, I was thinking … since we had our first time together …”
“How could I possibly forget?” he purrs, pulling me into his arms and kissing me with this lazy air of importance, like he has all the time in the world to do it. Maybe he does? Who knows? “What about it? You need to go over the basics again?”
“I was actually thinking we might tackle something new.” I stand up, pull out the blue dress he sent me during first year, and get naked, so I can dress myself in it. Creed watches me hungrily, running his tongue over his lower lip as I turn toward him, reach down and unbutton his black slacks. When I slide lower and put my mouth over his hard shaft, he definitely doesn’t protest.
Finals for fourth year Burberry Prep students are considered some of the most difficult in the country, on par with the academic standards of most universities. I’m sure I’ve bombed everything when Creed and Miranda knock on Zack’s door, waking us both up from a seriously important nap. We’re all so overworked, like we always are at this time of year, that sleep is essential.
“You did it,” the twins say at the same time as they step into the apartment together, and then glare at one another. They