Page 27 of Barons of Decay (Royals of Forsyth University #10)

“Does that help?” I ask, shifting in my seat trying to relieve the pressure of my erection.

“It doesn’t feel worse.” Her tongue darts out and her body squirms against the sensation, and I don’t miss the way her gaze roams over my bare chest, taking in the tattoos.

They start over my pecs, spread to my left shoulder and rise up my neck.

“It’s like when something already hurts so bad, any more pain just starts to feel numb.

” Her fingers twitch, not quite touching, but close. Then softly, “What do they mean?”

I glance down, running my hand over the black lines and inked symbols like I’m reading them in Braille.

“This one,” I tap the design over my left collarbone–a precise rendering of a Mobius strip woven with thin lines of circuitry, “reminds me nothing’s ever really linear.

Time. Learning. Grief. You loop back before you ever move forward. ”

Her eyes track the motion.

“And this–” I shift slightly, letting the light hit my right pec where a geometric atom breaks apart mid-burst, fragments morphing into stars. “That’s the moment I realized physics wasn’t just numbers. It’s poetry. Everything beautiful explodes before it settles.”

She leans in, and I feel her breath before her words. “And your shoulder?”

I turn, letting her see the left one fully–where lines of code form an incomplete ring, a halo broken in two.

“That’s a segment of the first program I ever wrote that didn’t crash.

It modeled chaos theory. Unstable systems.” I pause.

“I didn’t understand it fully then. I just knew it worked. Kind of like me.”

She brushes a fingertip near the ink, feather-light. “And the other side?”

“Blank.” I meet her gaze. “I haven’t earned it yet.”

The cube melts, and I pick up another, continuing to run it over the tape until the ends begin to curl. Pinching the edge with my fingertips, I slowly lift, removing the tape.

“It worked,” she says in relief.

“Between the wet and cold, the adhesive shrinks up and turns brittle,” I explain, moving to her other nipple and pulling its tape off too. The tips are raised, peaked from the stimulation. I don’t notice any infection. “I brought you something else.”

I reach for the container on the bedside table. It’s small with a screw top and I quickly open it. “This is a numbing cream.”

Arianette rises up on her elbows. The move makes her tits bounce and jiggle, settling slightly to the side. “What do I do with it?”

“Rub it on.” There’s an edge to my tone. She notices.

Her fingers dip into the cream and I watch as she glides it over the dark nipples. “Promise me something.” Our eyes meet. “The next time he comes to do something like this to you, make sure you call me.”

“You’ll stop him?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I want to watch.”

“Oh.” I can tell the cream is having the desired effect as she rubs circles around the metal bar, working it into her skin.

Her shoulders loosen and she falls back against the headboard. “It’s tingly.”

“In a bad way?” I ask.

“No, not bad.” She shakes her head. “Can I ask you something?”

I give her a curt nod.

“When DK touches me… why does he stop?”

“What do you mean?”

“On the altar, and today in the class. He touches me, makes my heart beat and my skin feel like it’s on fire. I feel… excited, like I’m chasing something instead of being chased. Like I’m on the edge of a tall building, ready to jump off, but then he stops and it’s just…”

I push the words through the lump in my throat. “Just what?”

“I want to say gone, but that’s not right either. It hurts. I feel desperate. Like I’m out of breath without taking a step.”

“Show me.”

She frowns but it’s lazy, the chemicals in the cream having started to take effect. “What?”

“Show me what he did to you. Today, the other day. What does he do?”

She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t.”

I pause, letting my response roll about my head for a moment, before asking. “Are you disobeying me, sister?”

“I, I–” She’s caught. Her role is to obey her Barons, and I’ve been nice.

Providing her with something to ease her pain.

But I also know that she sees me as the man that chased her through the woods, carved her skin with my knife.

I’m dangerous, and she just slipped into my trap.

“I’m not disobeying you.” She couldn’t even if she wanted to, the amount of mandrake I used isn’t enough to knock her out entirely, but it is enough to make her compliant.

I’m not prepared when she adds, “Good girls don’t touch themselves. ”

My eyebrow shoots up. “Says who?”

She shakes her head, teeth bearing down on her bottom lip. She doesn’t want to tell me. That’s okay, I can find out later. I walk over to the armchair and drag it closer to the bed. “Now,” I position the chair near the foot, “move to the edge of the bed.”

She slides over, tossing one leg and then the other over the side. Topless, she sits back on her hands, that short little skirt still teasing me. She’s so much closer than she was earlier today when I sat up in those rafters and rubbed one out. So very close.

“Show me how DK touches you.”

Her knees rise up and then fall to the side, and she lifts up the little plaid skirt, showing off her panties. “He touches me here first,” she says lazily, fingers wandering between her thighs. “Teasing me.”

“He takes his time?”

“Sort of,” her head tilts to the side, “until he gets to the spot.”

“What spot?” I ask, digging my nails into my thigh.

“This one.” She yanks her panties to the side, giving me a sweet view of her pussy. Her legs spread wider. “Here.” She flicks her clitoris, then bites her bottom lip. “Right there, then he rubs it really hard.”

Yeah, I bet he does.

“Does that feel good?”

She nods, hair falling over her shoulders, across those pretty nipples. “Yes.”

“Then touch it. Just like he did.” I lean back, spreading my legs for room. “Make yourself feel good.”

Her finger makes a little circle, rolling over her clit. My own fantasy comes to mind, of me pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Taking a long drag to get the end nice and red. Then I’d bend over and stab it right into her clit, letting the nerves burn.

I blink.

Fuck.

I take a deep, ragged breath.

That’s why we look and we don’t touch.

“He slid his… you know against me,” she says, “pushing it between my legs.”

“Say the word.”

“What word?” she asks innocently.

“ What did he slide against you?”

She squirms, more embarrassed to say the words than do the act. “His erection.”

I make a face.

“Fine. His penis.”

“Do better.”

“His dick?”

That earns another expression.

“His cock.”

“There you go.” I lick my bottom lip. “Was he wet?”

“The tip.”

“Were you wet?”

She nods. He fucked her from behind. Getting his dick sloppy wet as he rubbed over her cunt. I saw it from down on the stage, only half focused on my presentation because I could see them up there. I could see the expression on her face.

“How about now?” I ask. “How wet are you?”

“A little.”

“Show me.” She spreads her legs wider, showing me her fingers slipping across her pink folds. “Your fingers.”

She holds them up and they’re slick and shiny. Coated in her own desire. My chest rises, knowing that that desire comes from looking at me.

“Lick them.” She opens her mouth to say something, to argue, and I warn in a low voice, “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

Her tongue darts out, licking over the tips of her fingers.

“Now suck.”

The pads vanish, deep in her mouth, and she sucks, sloppy and wet.

It’s as much as I can stand, and I shove my hand under the elastic band of my pants, grabbing the base of my cock.

It’s hot and heavy in my hand. Throbbing.

Harder than I may have ever been before.

Harder than with the girls at the Sanctum or at the Hideaway, who will do any goddamn thing I ask them to do, as long as there’s enough cash.

But there’s something about seeing Arianette like this, following my every command, not because I’m paying her–but because I own her.

Dammit.

A trickle of cum spills from the tip. No. Not yet.

Arianette’s fingers dip back between her legs, and her breath turns jagged. Her eyes are hazy, either from the mandrake or maybe just from being so turned on. I let her get through the build up, I won’t stop her. Not like DK. That’s not my thing.

“You getting close?” I ask her. “You right on that edge?”

She nods, rubbing herself furiously, her tits heaving.

I stand, abdomen caved, fisting the base of my dick, fighting the urge to give myself a long stroke.

Her eyes are on my body, dragging from the tattoos over my chest down to the cut muscles that create a sharp V.

I bend over her, keeping just enough distance not to touch her, and breathe, “Let yourself go, sister. Stop chasing and embrace it.”

Her eyes slam shut the second it hits, her nose scrunching up. Her mouth falls slack, that pink tongue taunting just behind her lips. I watch the orgasm take her, her fingers curling against her sex. She moans, the sound caught in her chest.

I slide my hand from my base up, giving myself the freedom to release, to cave, the urge to touch her too much.

Just feel her skin. Feel the throbbing pulse beneath my fingertips.

I lunge out, wrapping my hand around her throat, pushing her on her back.

Arianette’s eyes fly open. Her breath is caught under the pressure of my fingers.

I want nothing more than to see the vacant lapse in her eyes as I thrust myself inside.

“Hunter,” she fights against me. My fingers close, both around her throat and my cock.

I shove a knee between her thighs, barely getting them open before I cum, thick and hot, all over her still quivering pussy.

“ Please stop. ”

I blink, dragging myself out of the fog, looking at the girl with her dark, scared eyes covered in my cum. We share a beat, a long moment, where we both know this could go further. What I can’t tell is how much she wants it.

Flinching, I release her, and take a step back, leaving before I’m tempted to find out.