Page 11

CHAPTER 11

Jordyn

E xcitement thrums through my veins as I hurry to class, wearing a blue and black plaid skirt that’s shorter than the previous one, paired with a low-cut black top. I can’t wait to see Tristan’s reaction. I’m certain he’ll be pissed, and for some reason, that gets my blood pumping.

I’m halfway to class when a hand latches onto my arm and slaps over my mouth before I can scream. I struggle against whoever it is, but it’s futile. He’s too strong, and there’s no one around.

He drags me into a closet, closing the door behind us, shrouding us in darkness. I sense his hand moving, and a bright light infiltrates the room.

I’m breathing hard against his hand as he whispers, “Kitten, retract those claws. It’s me.”

His hand moves from my mouth, and I immediately look over my shoulder, staring into a pair of familiar mossy eyes that are tinged with humor and anger. “Tristan.” His name is a relieved sigh that fills the small custodial closet.

He pulls my backpack off as he spins me around to face him. His hot, fiery gaze drifts over me, his brows furrowed as he takes in my outfit. “What the hell are you wearing?” he snaps, a vein in his forehead throbbing.

“Don’t you like it?” I grin, grabbing the edge of my short, pleated skirt and curtsy.

He steps closer, gripping my chin. “Hell no. Unless we were alone in my bedroom.”

My hand wraps around his wrist, my thumb stroking his furiously pounding pulse. I stick my lip out in a pout, victory pumping in my chest when his eyes soften. “I wore it for you.”

“Stop pouting.” His tone is soft, but his hold is aggressive when he throws me over his shoulder and carries me to a small desk, depositing my ass on it. “I should punish you for wearing this.”

I clench my thighs together, my mouth going dry at the thought. Why does that turn me on?

He steps between my legs, spreading my thighs wider. “You like that, don’t you, kitten? The thought of me spanking you makes you wet.” His lips move close to mine, and goosebumps scatter over my skin as he teasingly runs his fingers over my inner thighs.

I can’t form words as I wiggle closer to him, desperate for him to touch me. A voice screams inside my head, reminding me of how we first met. But my hormones overrule it, shutting down the doubts.

“Words, kitten. Use them.” His voice is commanding, his face dark and stern, just like the hockey clips I’ve seen on the Wolverine’s website. A shiver runs through me as I spread my legs wider, inviting him to touch me.

“Yes.” I lick my lips, never breaking eye contact. “Please touch me. I’m soaked.”

The feral groan that comes from him speaks to a part of me that I didn’t know existed. My feminism slinks to the floor, arms folded and glaring. I’ve always prided myself on being a strong, independent woman, but right now, the idea of him taking control of me is heady.

He cocks his head, reading the signals I’m sending. His lips meet mine as his fingers graze over my panties, lightly stroking my aching pussy. “Mmm. You’re right. Your panties are soaked.”

I grip the back of his neck with one hand, holding him against my lips. He chuckles while continuing to torture me. I arch against him, a desperate whine leaving my lips, anxious for him to slip his fingers beneath the fabric and touch me.

“Don’t worry, kitten. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from you.” His lips press against mine, full of need and desire. His fingers slip beneath the edge of my panties, and I moan, arching against his hand.

“Please, touch me,” I beg, feeling my femininity pound her fists against the floor. But I’m floating in a haze of lust, uncaring how pissed she is.

He slides a finger inside me, and the moan that leaves his lips is louder than mine. The sound makes me wetter and hungrier for him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” He pushes deep, then slowly slides out. “So hungry for me.” His pace is driving me mad, so slow and teasing that I almost beat my fist against his back. He groans, his voice raspy and filled with awe. “The way your pussy grips me.” He inserts another finger, and I whimper his name.

“Please. Faster.” I breathlessly whisper.

He moves his fingers faster, but not nearly fast enough. I open my mouth to protest, but he shuts me up with his tongue. His other hand pins my hip against the desk so I can no longer arch against him, taking control of my pleasure.

When he pulls back, he gives me a devious grin. “This is what happens when you wear short skirts.” His head lowers, raining kisses down my throat and to my cleavage. My head falls back, a moan slipping free as the bliss takes me over .

He grazes his fingers over my shirt, fingers teasing my nipples through the material while his other hand continues its maddeningly slow thrusts in and out of my pussy.

“Tristan, please.”

He lowers my back to the desk before sliding my shirt up, exposing my lacy black bra. His eyes bore into mine as he sucks my hard nipple through the fabric. “Nope. It’s slow torture for you, little kitten.”

I groan until he moves my bra, exposing my breasts. His mouth wraps around my nipple, licking and sucking on it while he continues moving his fingers deep inside me, then slowly out. “You taste so good, kitten.”

His thumb moves to my lips, pulling the bottom one down. My tongue pokes out, licking the tip. His eyes heat, and he curses, his fingers finally moving in and out of my pussy faster. Wrapping my lips around his thumb, I suck the tip, pulling a feral groan from him that melts my insides.

“Fuck. I need to taste your pussy.” His thumb leaves my mouth as he shifts, dropping to his knees between my legs. He roughly pulls my panties to the side, his tongue swirling around my clit to the rhythm of his fingers. Whimpers and moans fall from my lips as he sucks on it hard.

“Tristan,” I moan, my head thrashing from side to side. “Oh, God. Don’t stop.”

“Mmmm…” he hums against me. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good. I could spend every day eating you.”

“Shit.” My nails dig into his scalp from his sexy, possessive tone. I arch up, riding his face and fingers.

His growl of approval is too much for me. Every nerve is on fire as my legs shake. “I’m gonna?—”

He curls his fingers toward him as he sucks my clit hard. My body convulses, my orgasm slamming over me so hard I see stars. Even my lips are trembling as I lose all control of my body .

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous when you come.” He continues licking me, dragging my orgasm on and on. I’ve never felt anything so powerful before.

When my body stops tremoring, Tristan gives my clit a few more lazy swipes with his tongue while he slides his fingers from me and adjusts my panties. I open my eyes, completely sated and still dazed, watching Tristan stand.

God, he’s the finest specimen of a man I’ve ever seen.

As though he can read my thoughts, he gives me a cocky grin and shoves the two fingers that were inside me in his mouth, sucking my orgasm from his fingers. The bliss on his face makes me shutter, butterflies swarming inside my stomach.

He holds out his hand, and I take it. Pulling me to a sitting position, he flashes me a smile that melts my insides. “Come on, kitten. We need to get to class.”

Panic fills me as I look toward my backpack. Oh, shit. Are we late?

Tristan points to a clock on the wall. “Relax. We still have a couple of minutes.” Lifting me from the desk, he sets me on my feet. He tugs at my skirt with a frown before fixing my top so I’m covered again. When his eyes meet mine, he gives me a lopsided smile. “Your skirt is too short, but goddamn, you’re beautiful. And mine .”

“Thanks,” I whisper, blushing at how much I like everything he said.

“You’re welcome.” He intertwines our hands, lifts them to his lips, and kisses my hand. I melt, amazed that this tough hockey player is gentle and sweet with me.

He leads me to the door, then slowly opens it, poking his head out. “The coast is clear.” I hurry into the hallway, hearing the flick of the light switch before he follows me out.

We don’t touch as we head toward the classroom, but we keep sneaking peeks at one another. He gestures for me to enter the room first, and when I do, my heart pounds as I see someone sitting next to Jessica. The only available seats are beside Alex.

“Don’t worry. We don’t bite,” Tristan whispers, nudging me toward the chair. “But we are fun.”

“You had something to do with this,” I hiss over my shoulder.

“Did I? How, when I was in the closet with you?” He whispers back.

I sigh, my gaze meeting Alex’s. A knowing smile spreads across his lips, and his eyes twinkle.

Fun, huh? More like I’m about to endure fifty minutes of torture.