Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,44

of surprise escapes her throat, but she plants her feet wide and goddamn, she looks good like this; tied up, compliant, full of my dick, wearing my bruises so beautifully.

I don’t fuck her as hard as either of us would like, too careful about being quiet to let this twisted, hungry thing in my chest out to play. But I fuck her hard enough, gathering her bound wrists in my hand and yanking her back into my thrust. She makes these tiny, bitten off whines, forehead pressing into the shelf as I pound into her.

I only let myself look at her hips now and then. I’d bust my nut too soon, otherwise. But that bite mark is right in front of me, shifting with the squirm of her shoulder blade, calling to me like a siren. I can’t help but bend down to graze my lips over it, tongue peeking out to taste the battered skin. I groan, long and rough into the bruise, knowing that this isn’t going to last much longer. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to indulge like this—lay claim to something, mark it up, call it my own.

Georgia comes before I do, seizing so hard that her legs buckle, lips parted in a cry. I stifle it with my hand, clamping a palm over her mouth as I hammer my dick into her. Nothing about this is quiet. Not the sound of our flesh clapping, not the way she’s whimpering into my palm, and not the wild grunts being punched from my chest as I fuck myself through her.

I turn to her other shoulder to bite down this time, not caring that she hisses and tries to squirm away from it. I sink my teeth into pale flesh and slam her into the shelves with the force of my thrust, emptying my balls into her tight, wet cunt.

She gasps against my hand, back arching. It isn’t until her pussy clenches around my cock that I realize she’s actually fucking coming again.

“You like that, don’t you?” I laugh, low and rough into her ear. “You little freak.”

She responds by wriggling her hands free of the swimsuit, grabbing onto the shelf to steady herself as I slip free. She throws me a fiery glare, but I can see that dazed, blissed-out thing happening in her eyes. “Why do you keep biting me like a rabid dog?”

I shrug, pulling my shorts up. “Why do you keep getting off on it like a rabid bitch?”

Her eyes flash, but she’s got my come dripping down her thighs and nothing but a rumpled swimsuit to cover it with.

Good luck with all that.

I slip out of the closet, leaving her frenzied, annoyed whisper in my wake.

“Heston! Wait! Where are you going?!”

I shove two fingers under my collar and tug, shifting uncomfortably. The Club requires a tie. I may as well be strung up with a noose, which might actually be preferable. I recognize a handful of people as they come and go, shooting me varying degrees of disapproving looks. I’d sent the attendant to give my father a message twenty minutes ago.

What the fuck is taking so long?

Since he’s not taking my calls, texts, or emails, and I’ve been banned from the estate, this is the easiest way I can think of getting in contact. An ambush at the country club. From the look the attendant gave me, it’s becoming obvious that I’m persona non grata around here, too. This shit’s getting old.

I lean an elbow on the counter, bored and annoyed, trying to ignore the constant fiery ache in my stomach. I’m almost out of Mylanta, I haven’t eaten yet, and I suspect just being here is enough for my body to rebel. There’s an enormous wall of windows past the terrace room, overlooking a large dining veranda. I’d come here on my lunch break, and it looks like a lot of other people had, too. My father, for one. Lawrence Fresco. Paul Travers.

Warren McAllister and Georgia Haynes.

I do a double take at the sight of them. They’re at a small, intimate table in the shade of an old oak tree. Georgia’s prodding the ice of her sweet tea with a straw, but she only has eyes for the man sitting in front of her.

Reynolds’ dad.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, walking to the window for a closer look. There’s only one person in this town who’s more of a whore than Georgia, and that’s Warren McAllister. This guy