Page 25 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

It’s the encouragement he needs. His hips move along with the action, grinding against me as he fucks me with his fingers, and our words are lost to moans and groans. I’m clinging to his shoulders, stars in my eyes, staring at the darkened ceiling.

In a moment, his fingers are gone, but his lustful gaze remains. I feel his hard bulge pressing against my hip, and another whimper leaves my mouth—an aftershock or the thought of what comes next. I haven’t begged yet. Will he give it to me anyway?

I don’t have time to ask. His wet fingers push into my mouth, and I open, taking him in.

“Clean me up,” he grunts, grinding into me.

I run my tongue along his fingers, greedily lapping him up, tasting myself on his skin. It’s worth it to hear the grunts, to feel him pressing harder against me, as desperate for release as I am for more of him.

I suction my mouth around his fingers, and he pushes harder, his lithe fingers hitting the back of my throat.

“That’s it,” he says as I moan around him. “You have the prettiest mouth. Perfect mouth.” He watches in awe, lips parted as he thrusts his fingers into my mouth.

In a fluid motion, he pushes down—and I move with him. He lowers me to my knees.

I’m at eye level with what I want, staring at his bulge as he smoothly pulls his fingers from my mouth. I’m empty without him, my lips parted with hunger, and my thighs pressed together.

“I can’t last another moment without feeling you around my cock,” he says, fingers weaving into my hair. “I won’t fill your pussy until you beg, but I can fill your throat. Is that what you want?”

Rather than answering, I open my mouth, tongue flat, expecting him to use me. He grips my cheeks instead, not tight, but enough to make a point.

“I asked a question,” he says, soft and patient.

“It’s what I want.” My voice is tight. I glare. It isn’t the same excruciating teasing as last time, but Caldwell is still pushing my buttons… and he loves it, smiling as he looks down at me on the floor. I love it, too—embarrassingly—soaking wet between my legs. “I want to taste you.”

“Then work for it,” he says. “Take off my pants.”

My hands shake. I’m needy and overstimulated, but I obey. The muffled music and his heavy breaths are all I hear when I realize—it’s my turn to torture him.

I follow the command but move at a leisurely pace, my fingers brushing over his bulge before they slowly move to the button on his jeans.

I lean in, pressing kisses through the fabric of his pants. He looks at me with longing. A rumbling groan emits from somewhere deep in his chest.

Slowly, I unzip his pants, pulling them down to his ankles. His length springs free, and I take it in my mouth. I pepper soft kisses against the tip and leave lipstick marks as I go.

“I know what you’re doing,” he rumbles, his fingers tightening in my hair.

“Oh?” I run my tongue over the entirety of his length, my eyes never leaving his. “What’s that?”

“You’re taunting me.” he sighs. “But, to what end?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Slowly, I wrap my lips around him, eyes flickering closed as I suck.

He moans, and my toes curl.

“You’re still doing it,” he murmurs, gently pressing my head.

I move along with the motion without any resistance, and he applies more pressure to my head. Slowly, he guides me as I take him in, my warm mouth wrapped around all he has to give. I’m pliant for him, letting him guide me through the motions, my eyes opening to meet his darkened gaze.

I’ve rendered Caldwell speechless—it feels like a feat, considering how mouthy he was moments prior. He looks at me with pure need on his face, and none of his retorts.

My hand moves to grasp him, stroking as my head bobs faster, my lips suctioned around him.

He can’t control his sounds—there’s no holding back the grunts and moans, the twitches of his hips.

“I’m going to—” He gives me a warning, and I don’t need it, moving faster, my tongue against him to encourage it. His hands are in my hair again, pushing me until his cock hits the back of my throat. His hips thrust in shallow motions as he shoots cum down my throat.

“Fuck,” he grunts, another rare curse, something that has me smiling as he pulls out of my mouth. “Come. Get up.” The words are an order, but he helps me with gentle hands, and when I’m there, he peppers sweet kisses to my wet mouth. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, stroking my hair.

“Yes,” I say, laughing against his mouth. “A little worried about the bird man watching, but…”

“Don’t worry about him.” His nose bumps against mine. “Look at me.”

I do, and a silence stretches between us as he meets my eyes, our foreheads pressed together. His hands roam over my body, grasping me through my top, fingers slipping under my shirt to graze against the underside of my breast .

“I need more,” he whispers.

“That is dangerously close to you being the one to beg,” I say, with a lifted brow.

The sound he makes is a groan—is it pleasure or frustration?

“Tell me you need it, too,” he says.

I don’t answer with words, but a maddening kiss, my hands pressed to his chest to lead him to the bed. In another situation, I would think about how dirty the thing is, but at the moment, I don’t care.

He switches us around in a heartbeat, turning so he’s the one leading me. There’s nothing gentle about it when he pushes me on the bed.

“I need a better taste of you,” he murmurs, positioning himself between my legs.

My breath hitches. I’m left waiting for his mouth, ravenous for the touch, and then?—

There’s a knock at the door.

I look at Caldwell with wide eyes. I’m dressed, but he—decidedly isn’t.

“Put your pants on!” I whisper harshly, unsure who could be on the other side.

They call from outside: “Tobey!”

Caldwell scrambles from the bed, pulling up his pants.

Oh, God. Margaux’s voice is undeniable—and clipped short, a display of her frustration.

“If we don’t say anything,” I say, “she’ll never know we’re in here.”

“I can hear you!” Margaux calls, mild humor hidden behind her irritation. “I know you’re in there, and I’ve given him more than enough time to finish the job. If you can’t get her off, it’s time to give her up.”

“Margaux!” I groan.

“We have other things to do,” she says.

I cringe, embarrassed by the words—and by the strangers who can likely hear them.

“She’s right,” Caldwell says, taking my hand and helping me into a standing position.

“About what ?” I whisper, eyes wide. “You already finished me!”

Though I was hoping to go again.

“Not that. But we do have things to worry about,” he says, chuckling, not as affected by Margaux’s taunting as I am.

Margaux takes that as a sign that she can open the door, storming in without another word.

“Of course, I’m right,” she says. “Come on. I know you two were in here all night—everyone knows, actually—and we have other rooms to check. I’ve had them all emptied.”

I shake my head. “How did you do that?”

I’ve only been here twice, but each time, the rooms were occupied—and there were people outside waiting for their turn. Margaux may have more sway here than she claimed.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” she says, with a mysterious air about her.

She’s right—I already saw what goes on in these rooms. I don’t want to imagine Margaux barging in and demanding the couples leave.

It’s exactly like she did to Caldwell and me.

Margaux doesn’t linger. She makes her way to the door. I move to follow her, but before I can make it out, Caldwell reaches for my arm.

“Tobey.” He looks at me with his deep, penetrative eyes, and my heart stops. I don’t dare speak, waiting for him to say what he needs to. “Be mine. ”

My lips part, gasping softly.

“I am,” I say, surprising myself with how certain I sound.