Page 42 of Wristlocked

His breath shudders along my spine. And then he drives forward, and the world explodes in fire. His cock is drenched and so slick with my release that he invades me silkily, but he’s much, much bigger than his thumb or Lyot’s fingers—or any of the toys I’ve played with in the past.

A scream tears from my lips, and I try to claw away from him, even as my hips arch back and another orgasm rips through me. He freezes, one arm locked around my hips, the other frantic in my hair.

“Fuck, Gia.What the fuck?”

Everything is clenching and liquid, and I can’t tell if I’m laughing or crying or maybe dying. I quiver to a stop, and he rests his forehead on my shoulder.

“Have you done this before?” he asks, his voice as raw as my skin. I shake my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question touches on deep nerves and broken things far away. I tip my head back and turn to plant a kiss on his ear.

“Do it again.”

23

Gale

She fucking wrecks me.

Riding home in the Uber afterward, with her head in my lap and her fingers idly tracing the holes in my jeans, I can’t stop staring down at her. My phone is buzzing in my jacket pocket, but fuck all if I’m taking my hands off her to answer it. Her thigh is warm silk under my palm, and I keep brushing away the curls that fall in her eyes. I’m half-hard from the weight of her cheek on my crotch, even though it’s only been ten minutes since I came inside her ass hard enough to rip my soul from my body.

My phone vibrates again.

“Who is it?” she asks, drowsy and relaxed.

“No one. It’s not important.” I skim my middle finger over the corner of her mouth, and she leans into my touch, parting her lips and swirling her tongue around the calloused tip.

“Is it her?” She doesn’t sound freaked out, but she pins me with her cobalt eyes and nips me with her teeth.

“Yes,” I admit. Even Jamie always texts first when he wants to talk. Gia releases my finger and searches my face.

“Are you in trouble?”

I can’t stand the concern in her voice, dredging up shit long buried and making my skin prickle with things I’m not allowed to want.

“I’m not a fucking child, Gia.”

She doesn’t even flinch, and I drop my head back on the seat. “But probably.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” One of Celeste’s disdainful scoldings—couched as concern—and whatever demeaning punishment she decides to mete out. “I can handle it.”

“She can’t kick you out. You haven’t done anything that goes against ACCA’s policy.”

A short, bitter laugh escapes me. “Nothing she didn’t ask for, anyway.”

Gia reaches for my hand and places a kiss in the center of my palm.

“But you’re right,” I admit. “She won’t kick me out.” If I keep pushing, though, she’s petty enough to pull my scholarship, which is basically the same thing.

I go back to stroking Gia’s hair. I’m so fucking close. Five weeks until the showcase, and if it goes the way it’s looking like it will, I might have new backing in the form of the Laurents.

Don’t fuck it up, Shepard.

Gia’s half-asleep by the time we get back to the dorm, and I carry her into the elevator, ignoring the curious looks of the groupies in the lounge. Pretending that, for once, I’m the knight instead of the dragon.

“Are we home?” She shifts in my arms as the doors slide closed, then reaches out to press the button for the second floor before letting her eyes fall shut again.