Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,110

laptop, stretching out on my bed. It feels good to have the suite to myself. Quiet. Relaxing. I look around, thinking of how to best take advantage of this boon.

First, there’s some dancing, my playlist jacked up as loud as I dare, considering the dorm adviser is just a couple floors away. After that, I cook myself some quesadillas in the kitchenette, which I’ve not had nearly enough time alone with. Then I do a video call with Aubrey and Elena, for once not having to constantly watch what I say about the Devils just in case Josie is listening in. I carefully omit any mentions about Heston’s dubious involvement. They’d completely freak out.

Hell, I’m completely freaking out.

It’s just an inexplicable situation. Rationally, I know he’s bad news, and it’d be downright stupid to give him any chance to ruin the Devils again. Micha looked at me today and saw someone who wanted to get revenge on an asshole. There’s no denying that’s true. But another part of me also needs to see if Heston Wilcox can be someone worth calling a Devil. If there’s no sense of morality behind those cold blue eyes, is there at least a sense of loyalty?

Since thinking of Heston makes me think of Heston’s dick, and since thinking of that makes me so horny that I can’t even stand it, I spend the next hour making tender, sweet, battery-operated love to myself.

After fucking Heston for the last few weeks, it’s a disappointment.

I take a shower next, deciding, Screw it, and not even bothering to get dressed after. I’ve never slept naked before, but I’ve always been curious about it. I hate waking up in the middle of the night to find my shirt all twisted, panties riding up my butt crack. This is freeing, though—the way I can slide right under the sheets without worrying about it.

That’s precisely how I fall asleep.

Alarmingly, it’s also how I wake up.

A hand clamps over my mouth before I can scream. The sleep is still thick in my head, blurring my sight even with the lamp that’s still shining next to my bed. The person above me is a big, shadowed, blond-haired blob.

The second I hear, “Calm down, it’s me,” I strike out, fist catching him in the shoulder. “I said it’s me!” he repeats, sounding aggravated.

I wrench my face to the side, dislodging the palm over my mouth. “I heard you, you fucking lunatic! Ugh.” My heart hammers away, still not convinced there isn’t a danger here. It was that moment in the natatorium when Jase looked at me, making that comment about me being alone. The memory of his hand around my wrist and the way he so easily overpowered me. That glint of entitled want in his eyes.

I’m not convinced waking up to Heston is much better.

I flinch away, squinting at him. “What are you doing here?! How did you—”

Before I can fully voice the question, he exhales hard, raising his gaze from my bare chest to lock eyes with mine. “I’ve never done this before.” It comes out strangely grim, mouth set into a tight line. “I’m not looking for constructive criticism. If it’s not mine or God’s name coming out of your mouth, then you can keep it fucking shut.”

With that, he whips the blanket away and stares fixedly at the crux of my legs, palms sweeping up the tops of my thighs. I realize with a start that he’s coaxing them open.

It hits me like a freight train, exactly what he’s here to do. “I’d need two hands and both feet to count all the reasons you’re fucked up for coming in here, in the middle of the night, like some psycho stalker creep. And I fully intend on letting you hear each one of them—loudly, and with feeling.” Holding his gaze, I let my thighs fall open.

Tomorrow.

He doesn’t reply, except for how he crouches down the bed, staring between my legs like my pussy holds the answer to some baffling riddle. I feel hot and too exposed, knowing that my face must be glowing red with each bit of coherence I slowly gain. Heston and I have had a lot of sex, but he’s never really…looked. Not there. Not like this. I can still hear the sound of his voice, tired and aloof. “Shit’s gross.” It makes me want to snap my knees closed and pull the blanket back over me.

Before I can, he touches the inside of my thigh and