Page 52 of Taste of Thorns (The Firestone Academy #3)

Chapter Forty-Eight

F ox

Time seeps through my fingers like sand.

I can’t get a hold of it. I can’t make it stop.

It keeps right on flowing regardless, regardless of how much I want to hold it back, to slow it down, to grind it to a halt. Because the faster it flows, the closer it brings us to the next trial, and the nearer we veer, the more I can’t shake the sense that these sands of time will smash us apart.

Time keeps flowing through my fingers, passing by my eyes in a blur. And before I know it, I’m staring down the barrel at tomorrow.

Trial day.

I can’t stand it. I have to see her.

I should be leaving her alone. Tomorrow is the trial and the girl needs all the sleep she can get. But I’m worried about her, worried about this plan of hers, worried about the consequences if it all goes wrong and so right now, while I can, I want her in my arms.

Just one more time.

I wait for her in the shadows, stepping out and intercepting her on the path as she leaves the canteen that night.

“Fox!” she gasps, hand on her chest, eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing here?”

I take a grip of her wrist and pull her into the darkness.

“I had to see you,” I tell her, burying my face into her soft neck, inhaling her scent and pressing my lips against the pulse that dances in her artery.

She moans and melts into my arms.

“This is all a little dramatic, isn’t it?” She sighs deliciously.

“The trial is tomorrow,” I tell her. “Who knows what might happen. Who knows when I’ll be able to hold you in my arms again. Who knows when I’ll be able to have you again.”

“Professor,” she giggles, “nothing is going to happen. And you can hold me right after the trial ends. You can have me too.” She rises up onto her toes and whispers into my ear. “Over and over again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Miss Storm.”

“I intend to keep that promise.”

She runs her fingers up into my hair and tips back her head, letting me run my fangs right down the length of her pretty throat.

“The things you do to me,” I mutter.

We’re hidden from eyes on the pathways, but far from my room and far from hers. Too far and I have been lingering in the shadows waiting for her, growing increasingly impatient, my need for her becoming urgent.

I growl against her throat, nipping at the skin and then I’m picking her up into my arms and moving at break-neck speed towards the sanctuary of the Great Hall.

She clings to me, gasping even more loudly, and when I place her on her feet inside the darkened space and step away, she sways left and then right.

“Jeez, Professor, that was … I didn’t know you could move that fast,” she says, squinting towards me, her eyes unable to penetrate the darkness like mine and only a handful of candles flickering around this huge space.

“I can do a lot of things really fast, Miss Storm,” I say, throwing off my cloak and stalking towards her.

Her heartbeat ratchets up a knot, tempting me closer, and she lifts an eyebrow quizzically, clearly wondering what I can mean by that.

I take a hold of her chin in my hand, tipping her head back once again and let my tongue flutter against her throat, so quickly it makes her eyes roll.

“Ohhh,” she says, understanding my meaning. “But here?” she asks, eyes flickering around the hall.

“There’s no one here, Miss Storm. Just us.”

I snatch off her coat and then I reach down, finding the bare skin between her socks and her skirt; soft, velvet thigh. I squeeze her flesh in my palm and run my hand up the sensitive inside of her leg until I reach the gusset of her panties. I groan when I find them damp to the touch.

She grinds against my hand and tugs at my shirt.

“I’m going to make sure you remember me,” I murmur, hooking my thumbs into the waist band of her panties and sliding them down her legs as I sink onto my knees.

“Stop talking like that,” she says, frowning down at me.

“Like what?” I ask, as I help her to step out of her panties, bunching them into my fist and stuffing them into my pocket.

“Like this is the last time we’re going to see each other. This plan is going to work, Fox. It’s going to be okay.”

I hold her gaze. I wish I could feel as confident as she does. I wish I could dissuade her from this plan. All I can do is ensure I keep her safe tomorrow.

“Forgive me,” I tease, curling my arms around her leg and nipping at the side of her knee.

Her lips curl into a teasing smile. “Make it up to me, Professor.”

I slide my tongue down one of my fangs, then the other, before dragging my pointed teeth up her thigh, making her moan, her hands scrabbling into my hair.

When I reach her plump pussy lips, I take a deep inhale.

This woman smells like heaven itself. I could drown in her scent and die happy. I nudge my nose between her folds, bury my senses in that scent, groaning as I do and then I slurp my tongue through her, from her pussy entrance, to the tip of her hardened clit.

She groans too, her legs shaking and her body folding over me.

“Like that, Miss Storm?”

“Yes,” she gasps.

I swirl my tongue languidly around her little nub and then back to her entrance, plunging my tongue deep inside her, and moaning as the taste of her envelops every one of my tastebuds.

Stars, this is too good, too delicious, for words.

I fuck her with my tongue, licking and slurping and ravishing her with my mouth. Then I slide my tongue from her, rock back on my heels and, licking my lips, gaze up at her, smirking.

“I think you’re going to like this even better.”

Then, I show her just what my heightened speed can do, pressing the tip of my tongue to her clit and then flicking at her over and over again, so quickly I expect my tongue is just a blur of movement.

She howls, gripping onto my head, her body bucking and jolting.

“Fox,” she pants. “Fox!!!”

I don’t stop, I hold her tight in my hands and devastate her until she’s coming hard against my mouth, arousal flooding down her thighs, sticky and sweet-smelling.

It tastes like ecstasy – she tastes like ecstasy – and I can’t help but plunge two fingers inside her, feeling the way her pussy convulses as she rides her orgasm.

Still, I don’t stop. I flicker my tongue right through that orgasm and straight into the next until she’s pleading with me to stop, tugging at my hair, desperately trying to push me away.

“Fox, it’s too much … I can’t…” she pants. When I peer up at her this time, tears run down her face, her cheeks are flushed pink, and her pupils blown wide.

I’ve destroyed her, utterly and completely.

I shake my head, unable to comprehend how damn perfect for me she is.

“Fox,” she says again, “I need you inside me. I need you inside me now.”

I growl and shake my head. As much as I want her – and fuck do I want her – this was meant to be about her pleasure, not mine, something to ensure she’d never, ever forget me, no matter what may come to pass.

She doesn’t like that answer, frowning severely at me and planting a firm hand on my chest.

“Briony,” I plead as she pushes against me.

“You seriously don’t want to?” she asks, hesitating, her tone a little hurt.

“You know I do. But it doesn’t always have to–”

“It does. And I want you, Fox. I want you so badly.”

How can I resist? I submit, letting her push me down onto the cold hard floor. Then she’s hitching up her skirt and straddling my lap.

“Fuck, Miss Storm,” I hiss as she unbuttons my flies and tugs my hard cock out of my underwear. She runs her fingertips up my shaft, her touch hot.

“You’re so beautiful, Fox,” she says. “Every part of you.”

Then she lines my cock up with her entrance and I watch in rapture as she sinks down onto my long shaft, moaning loudly as she does.

When she’s taken all of me inside her, she pauses, brow furrowed, and I know she’s adjusting to the size of me.

“All right, sweetheart?” I ask, reaching up and brushing my fingers across her cheek.

She turns her head, nips my fingers and then she’s grinding on top of me and all reasonable, sensible thought is lost to the feeling of her.

“Fuuuuck,” I groan. “Fuuuck, Briony.”

I slide my hand down her face, down her throat, along the blood vessel in her throat and to the neck of her shirt.

I tear it open and groan when I find she’s not wearing one of her plain bras but something lacy and erotic.

I squeeze at her tits as she continues to grind on my cock, winding me higher and higher, until I can’t help myself.

I take a cheekful of ass in both of my hands, lifting her up and then slamming her back down onto my cock.

She cries out and I do it again and again, lifting my hips to meet her each time, watching as she falls apart on top of me.

Knowing, as I spill into her and every single part of my cold body tingles with an indescribable pleasure, that I’ll never forget this, not even if I live for ever.