Page 17

17

Tovah

I n my time at Reina, I’d been mostly invisible. Yeah, students knew who I was, mostly from my byline, but no one noticed me when I was walking across the arts and sciences quad to class or eating in the cafeteria or studying in the library or getting a chai latte in the café.

So it was a strange and deeply uncomfortable experience to be walking through campus with Isaac next to me. Everyone noticed him, everyone said hi, congratulating him on his win for the last hockey game, or sending him flirtatious glances. It was like a giant spotlight followed him, bathing him in the most flattering light. Even in the pink shirt he wore.

He responded to everyone easily, a charming grin on his face, dimples in place, nodding to some, saying hello to others, giving fist bumps to guys and gentle shoulder squeezes to girls. But even though no one else noticed, I could see a slight strain behind his smile, like maybe Isaac wasn’t such an extrovert and being so social and friendly drained his energy. It made me feel sympathetic toward him, because I knew what it was like to wear a mask. And I hated that. I didn’t want to feel sympathetic toward the asshole. I didn’t want to feel anything but well-deserved animosity.

The worst part? Was that for once, people were noticing me . Some of Isaac’s spotlight was trained on me, and not in a good way. Students were elbowing each other and whispering, confused and trying to figure out who the rebel with the pink hair was, and why Isaac was walking so close to her. I could feel their scrutiny, and I hated that, too.

“Tovah, slow down,” Isaac ordered, catching up to me in relaxed strides.

I’d been trying to hurry ahead of him, hoping to put some distance between us and get people to stop looking at me. It didn’t work, his legs were too long and he was too fast. And I wasn’t exactly going to run across campus and let him chase me, even if a part of me got lost in the fantasy of him grabbing me and shoving me to the grass and?—

Stop it, Tovah , I admonished myself. You absolutely cannot want him.

“I’m going to be late for class,” I offered as an explanation over my shoulder.

His eyes narrowed. “Bullshit, we have plenty of time.”

Reaching out, he caught my hand in his, engulfing my small hand in his big one. Interlacing our fingers, he brought my hand to his lips, dropping kisses on my knuckles.

My heart stuttered in my chest. The sweetness took me by surprise, and each kiss sent tingles through my body.

“What are you doing?”

He smirked. “Selling the act.”

My heart started beating normally again. Of course. This wasn’t real. Isaac felt no tenderness toward me. He was making it look like we were intimate as rationale for why he was spending so much time with me, and vice versa. It was going to be humiliating when he finally released me from his blackmail and it looked like he’d dumped me like yesterday’s trash.

No, I reminded myself. It wasn’t going to be humiliating for me. It was going to be humiliating for him when I got to the bottom of his father’s illegal activities, exposed his whole family, and Isaac was led away in handcuffs.

Speaking of handcuffs. My wrist still stung—the same wrist attached to the hand that Isaac was holding. The same wrist Isaac was glaring at, like it had harmed him in some past life.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“With what?”

“Your wrist.”

“The handcuffs fucked it up,” I told him.

“What the fuck?” he growled.

I stopped, turning to face him, trying to tug my hand out of his. He tightened his grip.

“Why do you even care?” I asked. “The handcuffs were—” I lowered my voice, aware of the people around us. “They were your idea.”

He grunted. It was funny; everyone else got conversation, I got grunts and growls as the barest of acknowledgment that I’d spoken.

“Also, people are staring.”

“Of course they are,” he said. “They’ve never seen me hold a girl’s hand before. You should feel special.”

I snorted. “So special.”

We’d reached the steps outside of the Language and Literature Building, which was where my journalism class was. Resigning myself to my fate, I tugged Isaac up the stairs, and he followed, finally dropping my hand to pull the door open for me.

“How chivalrous,” I said as I stepped inside, waiting for him as he held the door open for the girls following us.

“Hi, Isaac,” one said. “You played so well the other night.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, dimples popping out. “Couldn’t do it without my team—and the support of my fans.”

“You look good in pink,” the other girl giggled.

“Yeah?” he winked. “I think it brings out the brown in my eyes, personally.”

Annoyed, I left him there. If he wanted to flirt with other girls and ruin our cover, then that was on him, not me.

Moments later, he’d caught up to me. “Where’d you go?”

“You seemed busy, and I have to get to class,” I said, trying to make my voice casual, even though I wanted to punch him.

He chuckled. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Are you a child?” I scoffed. “I don’t care who you flirt with, Isaac. I don’t care about anything you do.”

“Really. So if I took those girls, found a closet, and fucked them both, you wouldn’t be upset?”

I stopped, and, aware that people were watching us, stood up on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms came up around my waist, gripping my hips. Pressing my lips against his ear, I whispered, “You can stick your dick wherever you want, because you’ll never be sticking it in me.”

“Never say never,” he taunted.

I released his neck, but he didn’t release my waist. “It’s going to be so sweet when you finally beg for my cock.”

I looked up at the clock on the wall. Class was starting in five minutes.

“Can those absurd fantasies be taken to go? I’m going to be late.”

He released me, only to drop an arm over my shoulder and guide me down the hall to my Ethics in Journalism classroom.

“How do you know where my class is?”

“I know?—”

“Everything about me. Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.

When we entered the classroom, everyone’s heads popped up. There was more murmuring. Isaac took it in stride, just like he’d taken the pink shirt. He scanned the room, choosing a row about five back from the lectern, and nodding to the seat next to the aisle.

Sighing, I slid in. He dropped into the seat next to me, his legs so long he had to stretch out in the aisle. The whispering grew louder.

“Ugh, do you have to be here?”

“Yes,” he said.

The professor, an older man in a wrinkled suit, passed by our row.

“Sir,” he addressed Isaac. “I don’t believe you belong here.”

Isaac grinned. “Couldn’t let my best girl go to class alone, could I?” he said, slipping an arm back over my shoulders, making me hunch. “She hates when I’m not with her,” he continued, making my chest tighten.

Oh god, he was about to humiliate me.

“He can leave,” I started. “I’ll?—”

But Isaac wasn’t done. “You know the clingy type. She even dyed my shirt pink and insisted I wear it today so we match. And I’d feel too guilty making her cry, so here I am. You don’t mind, do you?” he finished, dimples on full display.

There was silence, and then laughter rang out in the room. It echoed, haunting me. I tried to slump down in my seat, my cheeks flaming, but Isaac moved his hand to the back of my neck, gripping it to keep me in place.

And then he turned and dropped a falsely sweet kiss on my lips.

The professor cleared his throat. “Well, as long as you don’t cause too much of a distraction, you can stay.”

“Thank you, sir,” Isaac said with his usual bullshit charm.

Once the professor had moved on, I turned my head to Isaac.

“I’m going to kill you,” I hissed.

He released my neck, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Oh, you’re really going to want to kill me soon,” he threatened with a deep laugh.

The professor began his lecture on the code of ethics most journalists sign when they start working at a media outlet. I tried to pay attention, but Isaac clearly had other ideas, because as I began taking notes, there was a quiet buzzing sound and my fucking panties began to vibrate. I jumped, then glared over, shaking my head at him. He winked, playing with his phone. The gentle vibrations grew stronger. I’d done my best to forget about the vibrating underwear on our way to class, and had succeeded, until now. How was I supposed to ignore them, when they massaged my pussy in all the right—no, wrong—places? The thickest part moved in rumbling vibrations against my clit, waking it up and making it ache for more.

But I couldn’t want more. I couldn’t get off here . People would figure out what was happening, and I’d be even more of a laughingstock.

Or worse, get kicked out of class. Maybe out of school. Goodbye, journalism dreams.

It didn’t matter. The more I tried to ignore the pleasure in my core building, the more intense it got. I couldn’t ignore Isaac’s dark gaze as he watched me try with all my might not to come.

I was so, so close. My breathing had sped up, my nipples were hard, and I was biting my lip to hold in my gasps. Was I going to moan or cry out when I came? Was there any way I could hide it?

“Let it happen,” Isaac murmured.

And I had no choice. My whole body coiled tight, the wire to orgasm about to be tripped and?—

The buzzing stopped. So did the vibrations.

I slumped back in my seat, breathing heavily. I’d been so close, about to come and completely destroy my reputation, but Isaac had given me a reprieve.

Was the vibrating underwear just meant as a warning not to disobey him? Was this it?

“Thank god,” I gasped.

“I wouldn’t thank god just yet,” Isaac murmured again, and the vibrations returned.

So did the coiled tight feeling. I was closer this time, because of how he’d teased me earlier. Tense and terrified and, worse, wanting it, I hovered on the precipice of the orgasm…

…only for Isaac to dial back the vibrations again, tugging me back from the brink.

And then he did it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

By the fifth time he’d edged me, my pussy ached with the need to come, and I was no longer capable of even minutely ignoring it or hiding my fortunately quiet moans. I no longer gave a shit if I came in front of the whole goddamned class and got expelled. I needed, truly needed, desperately needed to finally come and release the painful tension in my body.

My skin hummed from the vibrations, so aroused I was sure there was a wet spot on my wooden auditorium chair. My chest was heaving and I was biting my lip so hard I could taste my own blood. I pulsed, my pussy trying to grip something that wasn’t there. Closing my eyes, I got lost in a fantasy of Isaac pulling me onto his lap, ripping off my jeans, panties, and shoving what had to be a huge cock inside me. It didn’t matter that I’d never had sex before, or that I hated him. I needed him to quell the ache he’d created.

“Ms. Kaufman? Ms. Kaufman,” the professor was calling my name, aggravation in his voice.

My eyes shot open.

Oh, shit.

“Ms. Kaufman, did you fall asleep?”

“N—no,” I said weakly. “I was just concentrating on what you were saying.”

“And what was I saying?”

I cleared my dry throat. I had no idea, and what’s more, I was terrified to speak, especially when Isaac ramped up the vibrations so high my clit was pulsing. Someone must be able to hear it.

“Um,” I started, when Isaac spoke.

“You were talking about the importance of protecting your sources,” he said. “That their anonymity and privacy matters more than the story itself.”

The professor smiled, impressed. “Thank you, Mr.—”

“Jones,” Isaac said easily, as he began to trace figure eights on my knee. The gentle, barely there touch over my jeans was more arousing than the vibrations, or maybe it was the combination and his casual display of ownership that shoved me so close to the precipice. I teetered there, my clit throbbing, my insides clenching, a whimper trapped in my throat, because ohgodohgodohgodIcouldn’tstopitIwasaboutto ?—

Isaac lifted his hand, and said, “It’s Tovah you should thank. She’s taught me a lot about journalism since she first started following me around—” the whole class laughed at this, and I would’ve been embarrassed and livid if I wasn’t about to have the biggest orgasm of my life —“and it’s been…enlightening.”

The vibrations stopped.

I didn’t hurt any less. I didn’t throb any less or stop clenching.

But at least I didn’t scream in tortured denial.

“Well,” said the professor. “That’s our class for the day. Please do the reading. Ms. Kaufman, if you could come to my office? Alone?”

Isaac stiffened beside me as students gathered their stuff and rose to leave. “She won’t be going anywhere alone,” he stated firmly.

The professor raised his eyebrow. “And Ms. Kaufman is the clingy one?”

I would’ve laughed, if I didn’t want to cry.

Isaac scowled.

“I’ll leave you to say goodbye to your…friend, Tovah. I’ll be waiting for you in my office,” the professor said, departing and leaving us alone in the lecture hall.

“You don’t say a word to him about what’s going on,” he warned. “You will not like the consequences, Tovah.”

“Heard,” I said, relieved as the tension in my body began to ease.

“I have an Italian test, so I won’t be able to come with you to your newspaper meeting, but Judah and Levi will be escorting you. Do not cause them any trouble.”

With that, he bent down, wrapping a hand in my hair and tugging my head back so he could kiss me. It wasn’t a light, gentle kiss like before. No, this was all tongue and teeth and ownership, a declaration to anyone watching that I was his. And god help me, but it felt so fucking good, and he tasted so good, the orgasm he’d been teasing me with exploded, so intense and sharp I saw stars and swooned. I probably would’ve fallen if Isaac hadn’t caught me, tugging me tight against him and capturing my cries in his mouth, growling against my lips in response as the orgasm crashed over me, wave after wave after mind shattering wave.

Finally, it ended, leaving me sweaty, shaking, trembling in Isaac’s arms.

He pulled away, looking down at me with what would’ve been awe in another man’s eyes.

“You’re so damn responsive. Coming from a kiss?” He was about to say more, when something caught his eye and he released me so fast I stumbled backward. Clearing his throat, he chuckled, even though it sounded forced. “Playing with you is going to be fun as fuck, little snoop. Don’t you dare touch yourself.”

With that, he inexplicably picked up my chafed wrist and dropped a kiss on the pulse point before swaggering off.

I turned to see Judah and Levi standing there, Judah’s hands in his pockets, Levi’s arms crossed. Judah had a shit-eating grin on his face. Levi looked like he was seeing right into my soul, and he didn’t like what he saw.

Judah whistled. “You two put on quite a show there, Tovah Kaufman.”

I relaxed slightly at the implication that Isaac hadn’t told them who I really was. Trying not to blush, I took slow, deep breaths, then gathered my notebook, textbook, and pen and shoved them back in my bag, lifting it to my shoulder and walking past the twins.

“I need to go to my professor’s office so I can get yelled at for zoning out during class, and then I have a newspaper meeting. I’m not waiting for either of you, so hurry up.”

Judah threw his head back and laughed. “Isaac has his hands full with you, doesn’t he?”

Levi said nothing, readjusting his glasses so he could watch me more closely.

“He has no idea,” I said with saccharine sweetness, heading out the door as Isaac’s teammates laughed and followed.