Page 120 of Shattered Stars

“No,” she mutters, her legs already starting to shake, “he was good. Really good.”

I almost roll my eyes. It isn’t hard with this little one. She’s so freaking sensitive. I’m sure I could make her come just by breathing on her clit.

“So what did he do to you with his fingers inside your panties, Miss Blackwaters? Where exactly did he touch you? Here?” I press my finger to her throbbing clit.

“Y-y-yes, there,” she says, bucking her hips to try and gain some friction.

“He played with you here, until you came?” I ask, circling her now.

She moans out her yes and I can’t help leaning back to look at her, perched on the edge of my desk in her panties, her shirt pulled up exposing her silky bra, her hair already a mess around her head. It looks like every perverted professor’s fucking nightmare.

I flick at her, using my magic to vibrate at her sensitive nub.

“I’m not surprised he touched you, you’re so fucking beautiful, Miss Blackwaters. How the hell was he meant to resist?”

“I should have resisted,” she chokes out, as her legs shake so hard the desk rattles and her body tightens.

“That’s not what fate wants, sweetheart. She was always going to tempt you, at every twist and every turn.”

Her clit thrums against my fingertips. She’s close, so close, her pussy getting wetter and wetter.

“You don’t have to be quiet for me. You can be as loud as you fucking like.” I give her one last flick and she falls apart, bucking against my fingers and screaming my name. I can’t help myself, I thrust my fingers deep inside her warm, wet pussy just so I can feel her inner muscles clench around me.

“Did he do this too, Miss Blackwaters?”

“Yes,” she cries out, as I massage her spot and have her dancing on my fingers a second time.

“Yeah, I bet he fucking did.” Slowly, I slide my fingers from her and, taking her hand in mine, tug her off my desk and onto her feet. She peers up at me with intrigue. “But I bet he didn’t do this,” I say, twisting her body around and, with my palm firm between her shoulder blades, pressing her down onto my desk so she’s folded in half, her ass on display. I yank away her panties and thrust into her, lifting her up onto her toes, her hands scrabbling for purchase across the desk.

“Phoenix,” she gasps, throbbing around my cock.

“Yes, Miss Blackwaters?”

She moans as I slide from her and slam my way back inside, the desk wobbling beneath us.

“Am I right? He hasn’t had you this way, has he?”

“Noooo,” she cries out.

I shake my head, pressing her down more firmly as she begins to squirm beneath me, wriggling her ass and begging mefor more. As if I could ever deny her this. I shake my head again, pounding into her.

Poor fucking bastard, I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

43

Rhi

Winnie spendsthe whole of Saturday morning with her hair in curlers either pacing up and down our room or barking down her cell phone at some poor postal worker. In-between, she glances longingly at the clothes bag with the four designer dresses inside which I’ve stuffed into the wardrobe.

Pip, sensing something isn’t right, is cowering in the corner under a blanket, attempting to avoid us both.

“Are you sure we can’t wear those dresses?” she asks me for the fifth time in the last hour.

“Nope,” I say, not even looking up from the book on advanced magic I’m reading. I tried to return the dresses to Tristan’s room yesterday, but they’d simply turned up outside our door again this morning and I don’t have the energy or the inclination to play silly games with him. If he won’t take them back, I’ll donate them to charity or something. Because I’m not keeping them and I’m definitely not wearing one of them either.

“Well, we might not have a choice,” Winnie says, stamping her foot and throwing her phone across the room. “There’sno trace of Nonny’s dresses anywhere and there’s less than,” she peers at her watch, “eight hours until the ball starts.” Pip squeaks and burrows further into his cover.