Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,100

word derisively, as if he could spit it at Vandy’s feet. “I told her the world would be better off without her in it, and a few hours later, we were all sitting in the emergency room while she had her stomach pumped.” Looking at Vandy, his voice is perfectly measured as he adds, “Valium. Twenty-six of them.”

I stare at him, unblinking, mapping the stony, unapologetic angles of his face. The silence is thick enough that my baffled, “Why?” comes out sounding choked and too harsh.

“Does it matter?” His gaze swings around to me, and suddenly his face isn’t blank at all. It’s twisted into a tight, ugly fury. “Is that what this stupid fucking rite of yours is all about? Did you sit around and tell your biggest sins and then rush to justify them as…what? Accidents? Stupid choices you made in the heat of the moment? Fuck that.” More strongly, he repeats, “Fuck that. I told my mom to kill herself, and I knew there was a chance she would. There’s no polishing that up into something shiny. I own my shit.” He reaches up to push his hair from his face, jaw locking tight. “Are we done or what?”

I know from the way he’s looking at me, all still and dead-eyed, that he’s not asking about the Devils. Maybe he’s wondering if it’s too much to know this and still be touched by him, consumed with him.

Clearing my throat, I give him my answer.

“Not quite.”

We’re best like this. Caught in a rhythm, the sound of the groan caught in the back of his throat like it’s desperate to claw its way out. I like it when he makes those sounds. It means he’s close, and that only intensifies when his fingers twist in my hair, pulling at my scalp. Once I get the first salty taste of him on my tongue, his controlled movements grow erratic. What was it he’d called me before? Oh, right. Unhinged.

It’s a grim look on me, but not on him. I like Heston best when he’s losing it. When he lets go; jaw slack, eyes glazed, face red. Panting, rocking, thrusting deeper and deeper and deeper until—

“Holyfuckingshit,” he grunts, hips bucking into me. I hold him there, deep against the back of my throat, until he slows, falling back against the bed like a sack of rocks. “Goddamn, Little Red. Fuck me.”

Because I’m not done with him, I get off my knees and kiss up his flat abdomen. Part of it is that I want him to know I meant what I said before. The confession he made down in the lair…I won’t hold it against him. I have a much easier time holding everything else against him. He offered that confession up because he saw it for what it was. Something abominable. Something unforgivable. Perhaps even something that haunts him. He tried so hard to brush it away that I suspect it couldn’t be anything else.

And if Heston can regret—if something can haunt him—then that means he’s human.

He’s something I can reach out and touch.

And that’s exactly what I’m doing.

His chest heaves as I make my way up, kissing, licking, sucking. When I reach his mouth, he tucks my hair behind my ear and says, “I’m going to need a second to recover.” His hand clenches around my thigh, running up until he feels the wet heat between my legs. His fingers move, brushing over my clit. I shiver but force myself to shift away.

He notices, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, I know you’re not finished.” I’m not. He gets that about me—that I’m never really finished. That’s the reality of being a hypersexual, always ready to go, forever needing a little bit more. “My dick is just a little raw,” he says, red cheeks expanding on an exhale.

We’ve been fucking in his apartment for the last two hours. I’d waited until long after dark to sneak through the trees to this little building on the edge of campus. Considering how distant he’d been during class, I expected him to turn me away. But he opened the door, took a long look at me, and then tugged me inside. He had two fingers buried inside of me before I even got my shoes off.

“I thought maybe we could try something different,” I say, laying back on the bed, spreading myself open.

Instantly, his eyes jump to mine. “Anal?”

My knees clamp shut. “What? No!”

He sighs, looking distinctly disappointed. “What kind of different?”

My hand