Page 14 of Meet Me at the Metro (Gildenhill #1)

14

HOT AND HEAVY

E L L I E

I ’m suddenly awakened by the taunting and slow caress of hands running up my legs. The intoxicating gentle strokes turn my breathing shaky as they move upward, and I widen my lower limbs in response. Goosebumps spread across my body like wildfire, drawing me further out of my sleep as calloused fingertips trace the dips of my waistline as if admiring newfound treasure.

“That feels nice,” I hum with satisfaction.

“What about this?”

It's the only warning I get before hot breath begins to spill against my collarbone and gradually moves toward the crook of my neck, lips nearly grazing my skin.

“I hate you. You know that?”

The deep, gruff voice sends a pleasurable chill up my spine. I shiver at its familiarity. “Why’s that, Teddy?”

“You'd love to know, wouldn't you?” He taunts, playing with the hem of my bralette.

“Tell me why,” I sigh, wishing he'd give his hands permission to explore further.

“Because of how badly you make me want you,” he finally growls back.

“And how badly is that?” I whine, my breath growing heavier as his hips press closer to mine.

“Really fucking bad, Nora. ”

“Can’t be that bad,” I counter, arching my back off the mattress. As my eyes adjust to the darkness of my bedroom, I find his darkened gaze pinned on the lacy, peaked material clung against my chest. “Seeing as you're not letting yourself really touch me.”

As if my words clipped the final tether that was holding him from me, Theo’s palms smooth along my covered breasts, massaging me through the fabric. I let out a pitiful moan—deep and desperate—as he toys with my body.

“You’ve got me so hard right now,” he groans. “So hard, it hurts.”

I can’t help but compare the desperation so evident in his voice to my own as my hands intertwine into his hair, clutching onto the golden strands as his thumbs circle my hardened nipples. The pressure is hardly enough to satisfy my desires.

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve wanted to feel and taste you.”

“It’s not nice to lie, you know?” I tease, enjoying this game of back-and-fourth he and I have going.

“I’m not lying.”

I gasp as he grinds himself against me, roughly pressing his hard-on against the inside of my thigh.

“Does this feel like I’m making it up?”

Slipping my hand between us, I trail my fingers down to his pelvis and grasp onto his length through the material of his pants. Theo moans deeply as I squeeze him. “You are hard for me, aren’t you?”

“You’re killing me, Nora,”he confesses, releasing a strained grunt.

Heat rises in my chest as I imagine the places his cock should be other than in my hand, and I feel conjured to beg, “Will you show me how much you hate me?”

“You sure you want that?” Theo slowly pries my legs open and presses the heel of his palm against my damp panties as if he's warning me of what I'm asking for.

I nod feebly, so pathetically at a loss of words. “Mhmm.”

“There's that agreeable mouth of yours,” he croons. “I can show you just how much I hate you, Nora.”

“Yes. ”

Theo draws his mouth to my neck and glides his tongue along the spot where my pulse is hammering. “And I can make you come so hard that you’ll end up hating me, too.”

“Please,” I sigh, only feeling slightly relieved when his hand curves around my cunt. He only gives it one good knead, refusing to remedy my lustful distress until I beg again, “Theo, please.”

His eyes darken at the anguished request, and before I can even take my next breath, he’s answering it. Theo steadily massages me through my underwear, soothing my aching pussy. My hums and moans of satisfaction grow louder with every quickened squeeze his palm makes against me, and I find it hard to cope with the overwhelming sensations.

“Quiet, Nora,” he reprimands.

Theo watches my body move with the rhythm of his hand with a devilish smirk, staring as I grind against it to feel more—I'm starving for so much more.

“Oh, my G—”

He stretches a hand up to cover my mouth, muffling the words. “We don’t want to wake the others up.”

My fingernails sink into the ink engraved on his biceps, digging into his firm, working muscles as he rubs me.

“You are so wet,” Theo praises, uncovering my mouth. “Your panties are fucking soaked for me.”

“That feels s-so good. D-don’t stop.”

“Then be a good girl for me, Nora,” he orders, clutching my chin in his hand as he slowly presses his thumb into my mouth. It glides along my tongue until it hits the back of my throat and makes me gag.

Theo chuckles as my teeth clamp around it.

“Stay quiet, and I’ll help you.”

I nod obediently, staying quiet just like he asks. I’m afraid I’d do anything right now to prevent him from stopping—yielding to any order he gave me.

When he’s sure I’m silent, he continues. “No arguments, stubborn thing?”

I shake my head fervently, feeling the ball of pleasure building inside of me.

“Good girl,” he croons, continuing his steady, forceful pace. “You know what I want?” I don’t dare speak as Theo slithers down my body, sliding back until his head is aligned perfectly between my legs. He leisurely parts my panties to the side before he whispers, “I want the taste of you all over my fucking mouth.”

I glance down as he lowers his mouth to my slick folds, but I'm startled when I meet his eyes. They’re not that striking gray-blue color I’ve grown accustomed to; they’re a familiar, deep honey brown. His face isn’t the same either; its sharp, prominent features have morphed into softer ones.

“Connor?!” I gasp, immediately kicking him away.

I watch in confusion as my friend dissipates into thin air. Though, even in his absence, I know that I’m not alone—I can sense it.

My intuition is proven right when another figure appears out of the dark corner of my room. My pulse intensifies as I watch John stalk toward the edge of my bed, pounding so fiercely that I can barely even think or attempt to react.

“God, I miss making you moan like that. Forgive me, Eleanor, please?”

“Get out.”

“I can make you feel good again.”

“I don’t want you,” I growl, inching back.

“Don’t be silly,” he tuts, taking another step toward me. “Of course you do.”

I jerk back the second he reaches for me, my head smacking hard into the headboard behind me.

The sudden impact breaks me away from my dreamy state and leaves me gasping for air as I sit up and try to reel in my impossible dream. I reach for the tender spot now present on the back of my head, flinching the second my fingers graze my sore scalp.

My eyes do a quick scan of my body and the small space surrounding me, and I’m washed over with relief when I find no one else in the room and discover that my clothes are still on.

It was just a dream.

Though, that didn’t make the awful ache lingering between my legs any less real. It was torturous, begging to be remedied. I can’t find the will to stop my hand from moving as it stretches beneath my covers and moves for the area of my body needing prompt attention. My palm settles over my panties and—

The bedroom door swings open without warning. I gasp and quickly snatch my hand away from my crotch.

“Shit!” Harvey croaks, shielding his eyes as if it’ll take back any of what he’s seen. He quickly pulls the door shut. “I’m so sorry! I should have knocked!”

You have got to be kidding me.

I clutch my face with my hand and deflate in my bed for several long, tormenting, and shame-ridden seconds and try to come up with an explanation for myself.

I don’t come up with shit.

I throw the sheets off my body and jump out of bed before I allow my embarrassment to trap me in my room for the rest of the day. Lately, it feels like I can’t catch a freaking break. I change into a dry pair of panties before I even dare to open my bedroom door, but my cheeks are still hot with humiliation when I finally conjure enough courage to hobble down the hallway.

Harvey’s waiting for me in the kitchen, leaning against the counter casually. He acknowledges my presence with an awkward, terse nod and takes a long sip from the coffee cup in his hands.

“Harvey, I, umm, I—”

“You’re all good,” he chuckles, waving me off. “No need to explain yourself. I’m sorry I barged in like that. I should have knocked. I just saw the time and wanted to make sure you didn’t miss your class this morning. Did you mean to sleep in?”

“No,” I say, prompted to glance toward the clock on the wall and discover that I’m 45 minutes late for vocal studies. “Shit!”

Harvey gives me a wane smile. “Up late?”

“Ugh , yes,” I sigh. “I was cramming in homework for Henderson’s class today. I must have accidentally slept through my alarms. ”

“We’ve all been there,” he assures. “One missed class won’t kill you.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. What about you? No classes this morning?”

“Nope. My professor canceled lecture today, so I get the day to myself. Going to head to Waterstones this morning and buy more books I don’t need.”

“You lucky, lucky man.”

“I know, right?” He wraps me into a gentle, friendly embrace before he starts heading to the door. “Going to get there before the BookTok trolls raid all the good ones. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes, you will,” I grin. “Be sure to buy one with lots of smut for me, okay?”

He winks and gives me a knowing smile. “ You’ve got it. ”

“Mrs. Caldwell, please. Is there any way I can stay in the course? I’m willing to do anything.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Mattice, but nothing can be done. This is a dance class, as you’re well aware,” my dance instructor says, darting her eyes down to my crutches and bandaged foot. “There’s absolutely no way you’d be able to keep up with your ankle like that.”

“But maybe I could—”

“It’s not gonna work out,” she interrupts. “You need to withdraw from the course before the drop deadline. Think of it as an opportunity to have some time to polish up your moves before you try enrolling again next semester.”

Ouch.

“Yeah, okay… alright. Thanks.”

I don’t spare her another look as I maneuver my way out of the hardwood dance studio on my crutches, feeling immensely embarrassed as their padded ends echo through the open space. Before I push through the doors leading outside, I take note of my reflection in the mirrors encasing the room, getting a reminding glimpse of my current state.

I can’t help but feel defeated.

What the hell am I supposed to do? I had all of my classes lined up, and my schedule was on a perfect trajectory to complete my year of studies here. Now, this damn sprained ankle has thrown me and my plans one massive curveball. I have to find an elective to take this class’ place, and I have to find it fast.

My crutches painfully dig underneath my arms as I reach the campus courtyard. In the distance, I see Connor waiting for me in our usual spot, and I head straight for him.

“How’d it go?”

“Horrible,” I frown. “She’s making me drop the course.”

“You’re kidding?”

“I wish I was. I’ve got to find another class to take before the late semester registration closes.”

“I’m so sorry, Ellie. What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh, letting out a grunt of pent-up frustration. I need things to come together before my hope and motivation start dwindling because, after the events in the last few days, I’m nearly running on empty. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t have any doubt you will. You’ve had a shitty week. I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I lie. I reach into my bookbag and pull out a stack of papers. “I think I’m gonna skip Henderson’s class today. Think you could turn these in for me?”

“Of course. You sure you’re gonna be alright? I can figure out something to help.”

“I’m alright. I just need to clear my head—get a plan together.”

“Text me, alright?” Connor sighs, and I can see the genuine concern written all over his face. “If you need anything, just message me, and I’ll be there. And we can just meet up for our piano lesson sometime later this week. ”

“Shit!” I had totally forgotten about our plans for our first lesson. “I’m so sorry. I can stay. I don’t want to bail out on you.”

“Stop apologizing. Go home and get some rest. Get your mind straight. We’ll start them up on Wednesday.”

My hand reaches out for his as I find it hard to express how grateful I am for his grace. “Thank you. You’re the best.” I look up to see him blushing, and it isn’t until then that it clicks what the implications of my actions mean to him. Abruptly, I pull back my hand. “I-I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Later,” he nods. “Night, Ellie.”

“Night, Connor.”

I don’t know where my crippled foot will be taking me tonight, but I feel as though the train is the best place to start. I make my way to the nearest station but immediately regret my decision when I come face-to-face with all the challenges crowds and stairs present to a girl on crutches.

My ankle's throbbing when I finally settle in a seat on a departing train, and a monotone British voice rings through the speakers overhead, “The next station is Camden Town.”

The wheels of the train roar as they speed down the underground tracks, stopping only when they reach the next platform. The doors glide open, releasing the majority of passengers and leaving the seats of the carriage empty, except for the one I’m currently occupying. I use this opportunity to my advantage and kick my weak foot up onto the unoccupied seats next to me. It’ll be several more stops before I muster enough strength to start walking with my crutches again.

“Please mind the gap. Doors closing.”

I glance up to find a tall body hurriedly slipping through the train doors right before their rubber-edging close shut. With his back to me and a hand clutched against the overhead railing, the man catches his breath from the close call. It isn’t until I go to look away that he begins to face me, and his dark brown eyes widen when they find mine. I sit up straighter in my seat, my spine stiffening as he approaches me.

“Eleanor? ”

My mind spins with bewilderment, hardly wanting to accept the sight in front of me— the person in front of me .

What in the actual fuck is John doing here?