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And then there’s that.

It’s the first time I’ve really seen his cock. The night of the ceremony he was behind me. If I’d had my wits around me that night, I probably would have been even more terrified. It’s thick, wide enough for him to wrap his large hand around. The memory of the damage he did to me forces my thighs to clamp together defensively, although it’s pointless.

Whitaker Ashby is a man on a mission.

He grabs my ankles, yanking me to the end of the bed. His hands roughly spread my thighs, exposing my hot, slick folds to the cool air of the room. Wicker barely looks down at me, his body moving on instinct as he props himself above me, angling his hips into the cradle of my thighs. I feel the brush of his tip against my entrance, then the hard punch inside.

I wait for the scream of my muscles, for the incomparable burn, but my body must be numb from invasion, the constant intrusion over and over again. He pumps into me with a hard expression, hips rocking in a furious motion, but he doesn’t look. Not at me. His eyes are fixed to his own cock as he watches it sink inside, and then reappear, over and over. He’s determined, focused, almost unaware that I’m even there.

He’s a maleficent force, hovering over me, body so big he could crush me under his weight. His jaw, sharp as a knife, tightens as he nears a quick release. His grunts grow into short bursts of air. I realize then that I could be Lakshmi or Gina or Heather. I could be any girl from downstairs in this hollow moment. All Wicker Ashby wants is to get off.

“Fuck,” he groans, breaking the silence, his hands grab my knees, contorting me like a pretzel. Whatever he’s done it seems to please him, because he growls, “Jesus.”Thrust.“Christ.”Thrust.“You’re.”Thrust.“So.”Thrust.‘Fucking.”Thrust.“Tight.”

Thrust.

His hips slam into me and he holds it, his cock buried as deep as it can possibly go. The strangled roar that’s been building in his throat breaks free, and I feel it. God, I feel it the instant he releases, his seed pumping into me with a biological relentlessness.

“God-fucking-damn,” he sighs, eyes fluttering closed as he surges inside of me. “Finally.”

When it’s over, he doesn’t move. Not at first. He hovers over me for a long moment, visibly regaining his wits, and I stare at his face. Red cheeks, sweaty forehead, loose jaw.

He pulls out like he’s removing a Band-Aid. A quick yank. I feel the loss of him. The intensity of his power and need. Pushing to my elbows, I feel his fingers on my center again, and I almost cry out. My body can’t take any more.

He sighs at my weak, futile protest. “Can’t waste a drop,” he says, eyes rolling as he pushes his cum back inside, a lot like Pace had earlier. “The sooner we get you knocked up, the sooner all of this can end.”

12

Wicker

The car is waitingoutside the Nu Zoo house, the driver, a freshman relegated to after-hours pickups. Verity stands by the curb, arms wrapped around her body, shivering from the cold. My eyes drop to where her nipples press at the fabric of her top.

The pledge opens the door and she goes in first, giving me a nice view under her skirt. The pledge next to me sucks in a sharp, surprised inhale.

I elbow him in the gut. “I will end you.”

Bending, he nods. “Sorry, sir. I apologize.” Climbing in, I shut the door in his face.

The Princess peers out the window. “Where’s Lex?”

“Pace drove him back.”

Her posture is stiff—guarded. Fair. The urge to take her again is already intense, but Lex has made it annoyingly clear that her body needs time to heal. Father would be furious if we gave her an infection or something in the first week.

I lean against the door, the adrenaline of the night wearing off, and the low hum of guilt swims in through the afterglow. I know what Pace and Lex were thinking–that I was on the edge of losing my restraint with all those girls testing me. Yeah, I was rock hard and getting pretty desperate, and sure, maybe some of that rubbing was getting me close to a place that would have broken a covenant, but I didn’t.

I wouldn’t have.

I wouldn’t.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I blink, turning my scowl on her. “I suppose.”

“Why is there a lock on one of the doors in our wing?” She props her temple on a fist, looking wrung out, as she well fucking should. “Lex’s bedroom, right?” My eyes narrow and she quickly adds, “Just seems like if anyone was going to get locked in at night, it’d be me.”

“He sleepwalks,” I say, touching the hem of her skirt and drawing it up a little to see the soft part of her inner thigh. There’s a sheen there, drying cum. I graze my thumb over it. “It’s better for everyone if he’s secure at night.”

“Oh,” she says, closing her thighs slowly, cautiously, like she thinks I won’t notice. “One of the girls at the gym sleepwalks. She’ll wake up in the craziest places. Trying to bake in the kitchen. Once, out at her car, trying to start it, even though she didn’t have a key. She kept trying to shove a pencil in the slot.” She’s babbling, and I can tell from the way her face twists that she realizes it.