Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
He’s whispering a string of curses, barely audible.
He loves this.
And I’ve barely done anything to him yet.
His cock throbs in my mouth as I push the pad of my tongue up against his underside, and he sighs as his hips buck up, pushing him into my throat again.
You needed this even more than I did, didn’t you?
It dawns on me how much power I’m holding over him right now, how I could take all of this away and leave him wrecked.
In a minute, though.
Right now I’m enjoying this.
As I run my hands along the smooth skin of his thighs, it becomes obvious that this guy is strong.
His thighs are densely muscled, and he’s almost as fit as I was right before my injury. It’s clear he works out, or maybe he’s even an athlete of some sort. Certainly not totally helpless, like I assumed when we were out on the stairs.
I flick the tip of my tongue on his tip as I slide upward, then swirl it around.
“Fuck, Sev,” he utters.
The words tumble from his mouth and for a moment, it doesn’t register.
In fact, all I feel is a surge of pride.
Yeah.
It’s that good.
And I’ve barely even deep-throated you yet.
But then his body freezes up, and I take a beat to realize what just happened.
This stranger just called me Sev.
My actual name.
“The fuck?” I ask, pushing up on my elbows between his legs. “What did you call me?”
“Fuck,” he utters.
“How do you know my name? What the fuck is going on here?”
He pulls away and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, like he’s getting ready to flee.
I reach out and clasp my fist around his wrist instantly.
“I’m sorry. You’re a pretty recognizable person. You can’t blame me for that. Just let me go.”
“That’s not how Zenith works. None of this is how it’s supposed to work, actually. You realize there are consequences in a place like this, right?”
He tries to pull out of my grasp and I yank him back down harder.
In the struggle I manage to get my hand near the top of his hoodie, and finally the hood gets pulled back.
Not all the way, but just enough.
I rip off my mask and toss it away, because if this asshole knows who I am, I’m not holding back.
I look at the lock of hair that’s fallen out of the edge of his fuzzy hood.
Golden hair.
Dark blond at the roots with streaks of golden blond, a little shaggy, like he had a preppy cut but now he’s letting it grow out a little.
Kind of like someone else I’ve seen growing out their hair a little this semester.
Someone who usually acts like he has a rod shoved right up his ass.
Like a fucking sheriff, who acts untouchable. Like he’s better than the rest of us.
There’s no mistaking it now. He has that same impossibly thick hair that’s kissed with blond, in a swoop he pushes to one side.
Just like Knox.
Wes.
Fucking.
Knox.
“No fucking shot, Weston,” I say under my breath.
3
Weston
My hand is shaky as I reach up to the bottom of my mask and slowly start to push it back.
Sevan Berlant’s wanted to fuck me up for years already, and now I’m certain he’s actually going to.
But as I’m pushing back my mask he reaches out, slapping at my wrist.
“Don’t take that off.”
“Sev, I already fucked this up. I’m taking off the mask.”
“Nope,” he says, grabbing the lower edge and pulling it back down until it’s just above my mouth.
“What are you doing?”
“You don’t get to make demands anymore.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re going to get on your knees.”
I let out a long breath. “This isn’t good.”
Sev looks me in the eye, regarding me coldly.
“Mhm. Not good at all.”
By the time he slides off the edge of the mattress, he’s already reaching for the button at the top of his pants.
My heart pounds hard in my chest, and suddenly it feels like the room is spinning around me.
I’m flitting back and forth between raw fear and defiance.
A bad, bad strain of defiance that’s been coursing through me all night like a rabid wolf suddenly let out of its cage.
I swallow past a dry throat and force myself to look away as he drops his pants to the ground.
“No,” I say. “Finish what you started, Sev. Get me off. Certainly acted like you wanted it.”
Sev’s hand comes down on my mouth hard, not with a stinging slap but with a firm pressure.
He cuts off the end of my sentence, then drags his hand lower and pushes two of his fingers past my lips.
“Keep the mask on while I fuck your mouth, Weston,” he says in a low tone as he slides his fingers back and forth over my tongue.
He takes them out and slides his slicked fingers over my lips.