Page 38 of Wicked Ends (Hellions of Hade Harbor #4)

It was a sad melody, full of longing. Music, like always, moved me.

I couldn’t turn away. There was something jarring and magnetic about it—the way his broad shoulders hunched protectively around the guitar, the way his jaw tightened slightly on the harder chords, the way he didn’t seem to care if anyone was watching.

It felt intimate somehow. And the colors…

they burst before my eyes, dancing to the tune, sinking into my soul.

I brushed a tear from my eye and faced away from Marcus. The last note hung in the air for a shining moment, then faded.

“Well, do I make the grade?”

I nodded, collecting myself, and spun back to meet his eyes. “A-plus. It was beautiful… beautiful and silver, like the light on water, the shimmer above the waves. That was your song, to me.”

The emotion in his eyes wasn’t easy to take. It made my heart beat too damn fast. No one had ever looked at me like he was now. I didn’t know what to do with it.

He stood and placed the guitar back on the stand, then came over to where I sat.

I fidgeted in my chair, self-conscious of my near nakedness while he was fully dressed. I tugged the hem of his hockey jersey over my thighs.

“I guess I should go, if you’d give me some clothes to borrow,” I started.

“Have you been outside yet?” Marcus asked, still looming over me.

I shook my head. Standing up in the jersey felt too exposed, so I stayed put.

“There’s nothing around here except a four-mile-long dirt track, forest, and a pretty little cliff overlooking the bay.”

“Okay, so, how am I getting home?”

For the first time today, his mouth pulled into its usual easy grin. “That’s what I’m wondering.”

“Marcus,” I started, standing and stepping away from him.

“Call me Mr. Bailey, Ari, it really does it for me… though, honestly, everything about you really does it for me.”

He took a step closer, and a thrill of heat ran down my spine.

I edged toward the open door of his room.

“I need to go back to the motel…”

“Do you? What are you going to wear?” Marcus played with me like he always did. “I think I’d rather keep you right here… pantyless, wearing my high school jersey like every wet dream I’ve ever had come to life.”

He was advancing slowly toward me, trying to herd me toward the bed. I eyed him, seeing that dangerous playfulness in his eyes that suited him so well.

“I’m leaving,” I told him firmly.

Marcus nodded. “Sure you are. If you can get away… I’ll let you go.”

“Your brother is downstairs!” I pointed out.

“Not anymore. They all left. We’re all alone… no excuses, no one to hide behind… just you and me.” The playfulness in his eyes only grew. He grinned at me. He wanted to play, and God help me, I wanted to play with him right back.

I opened my mouth to retort, but it was a fake out. Instead, I took a step toward the bed, like he wanted me to, and then lunged the other way. I grabbed the doorframe and used it to swing myself through. Marcus’ laughter followed me down the hall.

I raced down the hallway and down the small steps that led to a split-level inner balcony that ran the length of the open-plan sitting room below.

I risked a glance back to see Marcus sauntering out of his room. I was winning. I was getting away. I barely had a moment to be triumphant when I reached the main staircase and descended quickly, the front door in sight.

That damn inner balcony continued right along, ending at the wall above the front door. With horror, I watched Marcus casually put one leg over the railing, and then the other, before dropping down and landing right in front of me, between me and the door.

I tried to stop, but my momentum was too great. I barreled into him, and his arms went around me, turning us both. We hit the door with a hard impact, Marcus taking the entire brunt of the blow with his shoulder.

“Got you, birthday girl. Did you really think I was going to let you escape me when you’re lounging around my fucking house, only wearing my jersey?”

He leaned in and pressed his face into my hair, above my ear, and breathed deeply.

“No fucking way.”

“We played a game, and you lost,” I said, my voice unsteady from the excitement of my brief break for freedom. “I won, and you’re supposed to leave me alone.”

“And you’re really going to pretend that that’s what you want?” He reached down and slid his hand up my thigh and under the hem of the jersey. He pulled the elastic band of my panties and let it snap back against my leg.

“Liar.”

“Rules are rules, Mr. Bailey.” I tried my best to clear my head, but it was swimming with him, and there was no saving myself from this feeling. I was lost in it. He was right; I was a goddamn liar.

He growled at me. “Fuck. Say that again, Professor.”

He slipped his finger under my panties and without warning, surged inside me. I stiffened, my body battling his rough intrusion while at the same time welcoming it.

He leaned his face against my temple, his stubble scratching my skin. He slid his finger in and out, delicious friction building inside me. I fought and lost against the urge to grind my pussy on his hand.

“Say it, baby… or I’ll stop,” he warned.

I swallowed hard. “Rules are rules, Mr. Bailey.”

“Fuck,” he muttered and used his other hand to rip his shorts down. His cock sprang out, long and hard, wet at the tip with precum. He fisted it with his left hand, stroking down the angry red shaft with a firm grip.

He pushed his finger deeper inside me and groaned against my skin.

“I can still feel my cum inside you from before… This is how you should stay, Professor, in my jersey, stuffed full of my cum. It really suits you.”

The arrogant mockery in his tone stirred my annoyance.

“Fuck you, Marcus,” I whispered, groaning.

He rubbed his palm over my clit.

“No, baby, I’d rather fuck you, now, and later, and tomorrow and next week. And I will… and you’ll let me,” he promised darkly.

I shook my head, raising my hands to sink them in his T-shirt, my hips writhing and thrusting onto his hand, completely out of my control at this point. We twisted until my back was against the door, locked in a cage of his arms.

“Stop telling me what to do like it’s a done deal.” I arched my back on the door and sent his finger even deeper.

He chuckled. “I’m manifesting, baby, and I’m fucking good at it. I knew you’d be mine since that night at The Clutch, and now… you are.”

I opened my mouth to protest that particular nugget of madness, but it was too late.

My pussy was so sensitive, primed for his talented touch, I couldn’t stop the orgasm from rushing over me.

He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me as I cried out.

His lips were hard and insistent, as if demanding my attention right this second.

I came hard around his fingers, forcing me to acknowledge exactly who it was I was coming for.

He groaned and tore his mouth away and leaned his hips on mine, then withdrew his fingers from me carefully.

He tugged my panties down a little, enough to angle his pulsing dick toward the gusset.

His hand moved quickly, and he came, pumping himself into my panties, his cum landing with perfect aim right inside the thin material.

He paused his hand, his cock still pulsing in languid streaks and then finally, dribbles.

He pulled himself from my dirty panties and swiped the head of his cock over my mound, wetting the curls there, then drawing away.

“You thought I was going to let you go home without smelling like me?” He cupped my face.

I had no resistance to his touch. After the last few hours, I was overcome, wrung out, and just short of hanging limp from his arms.

“Now, I’ll get you something to wear and take you home. You keep this jersey, and sleep in it from now on,” he instructed firmly.

I tilted my head back and gazed up at him. “You promised you’d stay away. What kind of man can’t keep his promise?”

His playful grin faltered at that statement. He cocked his head. “Don’t try and tell me you don’t feel it, Ari. Don’t be a fucking coward.”

“I can’t continue this while you’re my student. End of the term isn’t that far away. If you want me to take you, and all of this, seriously… then actions speak louder than words.”

He chuckled. “You want me to prove I can wait for you?”

I shrugged and held my breath. I’d had no idea what was about to come out of my mouth before I spoke, but now, the idea of Marcus waiting for me was all I could think about. Suddenly, it meant everything.

“Yes, I want you to wait for me.” It was too much to ask. I’d be disappointed. I knew it already, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from hoping.

Marcus shook his head a little, incredulous, tucking his cock back into his shorts. I was sure none of his fangirls had ever asked for something so ridiculous. I was ridiculous. I was about to take it back when he spoke.

“I’ve waited twenty years to meet someone like you. What’s a few more months, Professor?”

Victory filled me, and though I knew I was probably ending this whole infatuation, seeing as it was very doubtful that Marcus would still be interested once the forbidden element was gone, it was what needed to happen, even if the smallest part of me regretted it.

“But, Ari, know this…” Marcus sank his hand into my hair at the nape of my neck and tugged enough to send my head tipping back.

He smiled, and it was deliciously wicked.

“When I wait, which I will… you’ll be mine, no objections, no refusals, no fucking wasting one more second. Got it?”

I swallowed, and he watched the way my throat bobbed, bared and vulnerable to him.

“Sure.” He won’t wait . “It’s a deal.”

He nodded, a triumphant smirk on his handsome lips. Then he reached down and yanked up my soaked, cum-filled panties. They were wet and cool between my thighs.

“So you don’t forget me too soon, Professor,” he teased. “Come get dressed. I’ll see you home.”