Page 21 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

“Beaufort, please,” I beg, and with a firm grip of my hips, he thrusts his way inside me. We groan together, the sound almost beautiful, and then he’s slamming into me like something wild and possessed.

It’s a little rough and maybe I’m still a little sore from what I did with Dray and with Fox, but maybe that just adds to the intensity of it, because I’m really damn sensitive too and the mixture of the pleasure and the pain has me tumbling into bliss all over again.

I squeeze around his cock and his hands leave my hips; one pushes me down into the mattress, the other grips at my ass, and then he’s there at my hole again, his thumb dipping inside as he fucks me hard, the bed scraping along the floorboards as he does.

My reputation as a slut will be well and truly cemented after this because every single inhabitant in this tower must be able to hear us.

I scream as I come another time, multiple sensations blasting through my body and he hisses out my name and follows right after me, collapsing over me when he’s done, his body heaving as he pants feverishly.

“Shit, Briony, that was …” He sweeps damp hair away from my cheeks.

“Hmmm,” I say dreamily, too boneless to even attempt to move from beneath him.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m perfect,” I say lazily.

He chuckles, kissing me beneath my ear. “I was coming over here to make up. I didn’t mean to fuck you within an inch of your life.”

“Well,” I breathe, “I think we can conclude make-up sex is hot.”

He kisses me again, then he’s slipping from me and, gathering me up in his arms, he settles us down on my hard narrow bed.

“This thing is fucking uncomfortable. It’s about time you just moved into our tower.”

I snuggle into his chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. What we just did felt way more exposing than anything I’ve ever done. He touched me, fucked me, in nearly all the places he could, but instead of feeling vulnerable, I feel even closer to him than I did before.

“For starters, I doubt that is allowed. Madame gave me a lecture about students having to sleep in their own rooms.”

“Bullshit,” he mumbles.

“She did!”

“No, I mean that rule is bullshit. You ever seen it written down anywhere?”

“I guess not, but I wasn’t exactly looking.”

“She just likes to mess with your head.” His arms tighten around me. “What were the other reasons?”

“Everyone in this academy hates me. Imagine how much that’s going to intensify when I get to move into some luxurious tower.”

“We’ve established that we don’t give a fuck what everyone else thinks, remember?”

I roll my eyes. It’s easy for him to say. It wasn’t just that one attack by Odessa and her groupies that I endured while Beaufort and the other Princes were away fighting demons. There was all this subtle stuff too; people accidentally barging into me, or elbowing me, or tripping me up.

This thing with the last trial may have changed some people’s minds. Moving into the Princes’ tower could undo all that good work.

“Sweetheart, don’t take this the wrong way–”

“Oh stars,” I say, “that does not sound good.”

“Just hear me out.”

“Okay,” I say, praying he doesn’t say something that’s going to have us arguing as usual because this right now is nice; really, really nice.

“Have you tried being a little more friendly to other people?”

“Wh … what do you mean? I’m friendly. I have two friends.” Which, I don’t tell him, is more than I’ve had in a long long time.

“Yeah, you’re friendly to your friends, I see that.

And occasionally you’re friendly to me,” he nibbles at my ear, “for example when you let me put my fingers in your ass.” I poke him again.

“But a lot of the time you walk around this academy with a scowl on your face.” I go to protest but he gets there first. “I understand why that is, little thrall. You’ve had it tough – a lot tougher than most of the kids here.

People haven’t always been kind to you. But, you see how it is with Dray – everyone fucking loves him despite the fact he is probably a psychopath. That’s because he’s friendly.”

“Hmmm, I guess you could be right.”

“It has been known to happen occasionally.”

I’m silent and he rubs his palm up and down my back. “You okay?”

“Uh huh,” I say.

“So, any other reasons you can’t move in,” he says, “because I’m struggling to think of a good reason why you shouldn’t be in my bed every night.”

As good as that sounds, I know myself. I need my space. Somewhere I can call my own. “This room may be the worst at the academy,” I tell him, “but I’ve never had a room of my own before. I wouldn’t want to give that up – even for you Beaufort Lincoln.” I poke him in the ribs.

“Briony,” he says, lifting his head and peering down at me, “didn’t your little snooping take you up to the fifth floor of our tower?”

“Erm, no,” I say. “I got caught on the fourth floor by this real asshole.”

“Ahh,” he says, “then there is something that asshole needs to show you.”

He drags me out of bed and into some clothes. But when I go to put on my jacket, he sniffs at it and wraps me in his own, despite me protesting all the way to his tower that he must be freezing and should take it back.

“Look at you, you’re tiny. There’s nothing to you,” he says. “I have insulation.”

“All those muscles,” I tease.

“I think you like those muscles, sweetheart,” he says, hooking his arm around my waist and snuggling his mouth into my neck.

Three girls pass us on the path in the opposite direction, eyes wide as they take us in. I try my best to take Beaufort’s words on board and smile at them.

One girl looks so shocked she almost stumbles and I wonder if my smile came out more of a grimace than something friendly. The second girl flicks her gaze away, but the third smiles back at me. I almost stumble myself.

Beaufort could actually be right about this.