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Not me. I would’ve done it for the sheer fact that sucking dick makes me hot. Plain and simple. Especially when the guy looks like Leonardo Jarvis.
“I think you’ll find that I don’t like rules, Jarvis.”
“The only rules I like are mine.”
He reaches down, fingertips grazing across my thigh. I lean back against the door, willing myself not to move. No matter how much my hips want to search his out, I paste them to the solid surface behind me with willpower I didn’t know I possessed.
A knock comes on the door. “You’re not breaking her in there, are you?”
“Move along, Alaric,” Leo hums.
“We need to talk. All of us.”
“Fuck off,” he grinds out.
With his words, he moves his grip higher and higher, slipping his knee between my legs.
He licks his lips, placing his mouth near my ear. “Next time you try to break into my room, wear something that makes you look older than fifteen.” He tugs the waistband of my jammies, and I cringe.
I close my eyes briefly in embarrassment, but I’m not one to bow down that quickly. Sure, my jammies have little suns all over them—a gift from my old roommates—but it’s not because I have a sunny personality.
I shift my hips forward, finding what I suspected would be there, but also giving me the perfect amount of friction on the part that’s practically purring with need. I clamp down on a sigh and say, “Look who’s talking. You’re getting hard over this girl in cutesy pajamas.”
He bites my earlobe. “No, I was getting hard over the memory of hearing you get yourself off last night. Were you thinking of me?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“We know it wasn’t the boyfriend.”
“Ollie? He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Does he know that?”
“If he didn’t, do you really think he’d let you lock me in my room last night?”
“Actually, yes. He seems like a bit of a pussy.”
Talking shit about Oliver never ceases to piss me off. I slam my heel down on his foot. “You say pussy like it’s a bad thing, when in reality it’s the reason women will run the world someday.”
He growls and leans into me further. The weight on my chest blocks the air in my lungs again. “Keep dreaming, Astor.” He runs his fingers just inside the elastic of my shorts. “I bet you’re wet for me right now, which only proves I’m the master of you. Should I check?”
His fingers sneak lower and lower, moving my shorts down with them. I know for a fact I am dripping. All the pent-up tension from last night, the lackluster orgasm when I really wanted something else—anything else than my own fingers—to get me off. It’s returned with abandon.
I give myself away by searching for him, letting out a sigh when I meet the hard lines of his cock through the denim material. It’s only a tease, though, not enough.
But it is for Leo. He stops his downward exploration and quickly removes his hand, stepping away from me at the same time. I fall forward on a whimper at the loss of him like a besotted schoolgirl.
Leo smirks, placing his hands on his hips. A growl of frustration rips through me as the fog clears. Taking another deep breath, I say, “You locked me in my room last night.”
“You bet your ass I did.”
“Give me the key,” I demand.
He laughs, but it comes out less joking around and more serial killer. “Not a chance.”
I turn, peering at all the flat surfaces in the room. It has to be somewhere. I walk toward the dresser and am almost there when I spot it. I’m within reach when a hand comes around behind me, lifts me in the air, and throws me over his shoulder. “Now you’re getting annoying.” He strides across the room, carrying me easily, then places me on my feet in front of the now open door with little care. I stumble into the hallway.
He gives me a pat on the butt, and red-hot shame courses through me. “Run along, Astor.”