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Once she revs the engine and pulls out, I give her directions toward Carnegie. She peers at me with wide eyes. “You go there?” Her gaze drops to my tattoos. The disbelief on her face is definitely warranted.
“Not by choice,” I rasp.
She turns back to the road, and I take in her side profile, my cock hardening in my pants. Reaching out, I slip my hand over her thigh, moving higher and higher. Instead of swatting me away or cursing me out, she opens her legs wider, giving me as much access as I want.
Disappointment beats through me with every thump of my heart. The image of a blonde, rich girl back at Jarvis Hall fills my thoughts and drives me forward—whether because I want to fuck her out of my mind or I’m trying to fuck her in my mind, I’m not sure. I hit home, my fingers working over the seam of the bartender’s jeans. She throws her head back, and I spit out a warning about crashing my car.
“Don’t you worry. I’ll do the driving, you do the fingering.”
There’s not enough time to get that far before we’re turning into the parking lot of Jarvis Hall. She stares, mouth wide, as we enter the campus. It’s a ghost town at this time of night. Especially with classes tomorrow. It’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck about those.
“You got roommates?”
“Yes.”
“I can be quiet,” she says reassuringly.
“Don’t bother,” I grind out. An image of little miss Edie Astor waking to this girl screaming her orgasm while riding my cock makes me that much harder. Picturing the fire in Astor’s eyes, the refusal to believe the heat pooling in her belly is because of me makes this encounter much more satisfying. I didn’t push it far enough earlier to check—I didn’t trust myself—but she was wet for me. I could tell by the way her hips kept searching me out.
We exit the car, and the girl grabs for my hand after tossing me the keys. Slipping out of her grip is easy. I don’t do touchy-feely bullshit. I scare most women in the bedroom before they realize they fucking love someone who’s a little dangerous and can talk so dirty it curls their toes.
I push the main door open then close it behind us. I don’t give the pretty bartender a moment to take in her surroundings. Instead, I move right in, pinning her against the door, my lengthening cock pressing into her pelvis.
A squeak sneaks past her lips followed by muffled laughter. Her body relaxes minutely as I breathe onto her neck. “I’m going to claim you tonight. I’m going to—”
“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” a feminine voice calls out from the kitchen.
The girl I’m currently pressed against pushes me off, only succeeding because I’m still unsteady on my feet from the alcohol.
Eden turns on the kitchen light, revealing a sly grin.
“Shit, you’re not a girlfriend, are you? If so, he agreed to this.”
Eden chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. Unconsciously, my gaze moves to her wrists that were tied up not twelve hours ago. There’s a pink line slashed across them, and my head practically explodes. “No,” I growl, pissed off at the world. Everyone gets hurt here. Everyone. “And unless she wants to watch, she can run back up to her room.”
Little Miss Astor forces a smile to her face, striding by in those same silly pajamas she wore this morning. All the blood in my body moves south as I watch her ass walk away. She’s almost to the stairs when she turns around again. “Hope he told you about the sores. I mean, I’m not saying it’s an STD… It’s probably not… You know, forget I said anything.”
The girl who was supposed to be my easy fuck whips her head to stare at me, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. It’s clear her desire is gone, and this whole foreplay to climax was ruined by one smart little mouth.
The girl’s gaze darts to the door. “Just go,” I spit, fists flexing.
She doesn’t waste any time, scampering for the door like she’s being chased by a chlamydia-laden dick.
When the door slams, Eden’s smile beams like it’s powered by the sun. Here is the rough-around-the-edges girl I saw that first night. Physically, it’s not hard to tell the hell she went through today, yet here she is, giving me lip and motherfucking cock-blocking me.
“You enjoy that, did you?”
“Probably a little too much,” she says honestly.
I take her in. She’s never seemed stronger—a firecracker with welts around her wrists, unbrushed hair, but her chin raised in the air, smirking at me. I can’t figure her out. The way she flounces around, dressing like all the other girls, but then has the nerve to join my little fucked-up goodbye party for her old roommates. She didn’t get down on her knees like the others. In her own way, she fought back, trying to force the one guy in the room she knew would come easily for her.
And she almost won.
Almost.
Maybe Grandfather’s right to be worried about her. There’s definitely more under the surface when it comes to Eden Astor.
She moves toward me with a curious expression. “Where were you?” As she nears, it’s clear I don’t need to tell her. Her little nose scrunches. “You okay?”