Stone Cold Queen: Sick Boys Book 2

by Smoke , Lucy

  “That was less than two minutes,” I whisper with a grin. “Now, it’s my turn, baby.”

  11

  Avalon

  I can feel my own juices leaking down the inside of my trembling thighs, but I don't care. I don't know how it's possible, but I'm pretty sure Dean stopped my heart for that last minute. I've never had anyone finger me to an orgasm so fast. When he leans down and whispers that it's his turn, another rush of arousal courses through me. My pussy clenches in anticipation.

  Shouldn't I be … I don't know … avoiding sex? I don't feel the need to. I’m not afraid of him. Instead, I crave him.

  Dean helps me off the desk and turns both of us until we've traded places. He leans against where I’d just been bent over, his legs spread and his arms crossed. I lift my hands to pull my pants up, but he stops me with a hard look and a shake of his head. “Leave them down,” he orders.

  “Why?” I ask automatically, but he doesn’t answer, just continues staring at me. I scowl, but I leave them down, tight around my calves. It wouldn’t hurt me to give him this now. Keeping my eyes on him, I sink to my knees, needing to place my hands against his upper thighs as I go down since my legs are still pinned together. He watches with barely contained lust, his eyes burning like coals in the night. I’ve done this a time or two before with old boyfriends, but I’m no expert. It doesn’t seem to matter now. I made an agreement and I’ll follow through.

  “No,” Dean barks, stopping me as I lift my hands to the front of his jeans. I look up as he uncrosses his arms. “Just your mouth,” he says. “I want to see you get me off with nothing but your mouth.”

  “So full of commands tonight,” I comment. My hands drift down nonetheless. My head tilts back until I meet his stare. Slowly, I lean forward, nuzzling against the front of his groin until I reach the top of his pants. I flick my tongue out against the zipper, catching the little handle between my teeth. I tug it down—the small teeth of the zipper parting ways. Dean doesn’t make me work any harder than I have to—though we both know any other time he would have. He pulls his dick out and holds it for me, his fingers cupping the base. He’s already hard.

  Suddenly, all I hear is the pulse in my ears. It fucking pounds like a drummer in a band banging against his set over and over again. My breath comes in pants. I shiver just looking at it. Heavy. Thick. Pierced. I sway forward and lick the tip, circling my tongue around the tiny slit that graces the crown. He sucks in a quick gasp, but neither of us closes our eyes. We hold each other’s gaze steadily. No looking away. No hiding it. This is where he lets me take him into my mouth, and I let him take me into his fucking soul.

  I suck him down, hollowing out my cheeks and rubbing my tongue against the soft, sensitive underside of his shaft. He groans, the sound vibrating down through his chest and into my mouth. I love it. The wicked feel of being on my knees for a man like him. He’s full bodied, silent, deadly.

  Dean’s free hand sinks into my hair, tugging lightly as my lips continue their work. “That’s it, baby. Suck my cock. Worship it.” He presses me forward. My hands clench against my thighs, and I suddenly wish he’d let me use them. I could do something with them—cup his balls or just hold onto his jeans for dear fucking life. He wants my mouth and my mouth only.

  With a sharp twist of his hips, Dean fucks his cock between my lips, shoving the entire length to the back of my throat in one quick thrust. I choke. My eyes dart open. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. “There you are,” he hisses as he pulls out and gently pushes back in. “Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on mine. I want to see you when you swallow my cum.”

  Despite the orgasm he’d just given me, my pussy tightens at those dirty, filthy words. I tighten my thighs and reach up, this time not caring if he gets pissed. I need this. I need something to hold onto. My fingers sink into the sides of his legs, nails in the hard denim of his jeans. His fingers play at the back of my scalp as he keeps his eyes on mine and starts to push his cock back into my throat.

  He fucks my mouth in long draws. At first, slow and sensual, pulling out to rub the pierced head of his cock against my lips. Then, shoving it back inside and using his grasp on my head to pull me down to the very base of him. He goes so deep that I need to breathe through my nose. It’s there that I see a gleam enter his eyes. He likes me choking on his cock. Dean holds me there for several seconds, just enough to make me feel uncomfortable, but not enough to truly threaten me.

  Salty precum coats my lips and tongue. On the next pass out of my mouth, I pause to take a breath and lick my lips clean. A groan echoes up through his chest. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?” he asks, but for some reason, the question doesn’t truly sound like it’s for me. His eyes are glazed over as he looks down at me. Dean’s hands grip the back of my head again, and this time when he pushes me back on his dick, he slams all the way to the back of my throat in one thrust. He groans, the sound reverberating through his chest and out of his throat. I feel it when his dick trembles between my lips. My nails sink into his thighs as I swallow reflexively as cum fills my mouth. And all the while, he watches me—lips parted, dark eyes burning, cock pulsing on my tongue.

  Something about this moment seeps into my mind. The way he comes undone with me. A strong force of fucking nature like Dean Carter and yet … when he looks at me, there’s a glimmer in the depths of his eyes that scares the shit out of me. Because I know this isn’t nothing to him.

  Maybe I thought I could lie to myself and say this didn’t mean anything, but the truth is, I’d never have done something like this with anyone else.

  * * *

  “Stay.” I freeze in the process of pulling up my pants and fastening them—sans underwear, of course, because those have mysteriously disappeared.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I reply without looking up. I finish buttoning my jeans and pull my hair back, yanking a tie off my wrist and using it to gather the strands together.

  “Ava.” Dean’s hand touches my side, fingers dipping beneath the fabric of my shirt to skim the small of my back. Electricity arcs through me at the innocent touch. Despite the raging orgasm I’d just gotten and given, desire flames back to life. “Stay.”

  Carefully, I turn towards him and then tip my head back until my eyes meet his. Brows drawn down low over his face, lips pinched and tight, Dean looks like he’s struggling with something. It’s such an unusual expression to see on his face that, for a moment, it takes me aback. My lips part, and then I just leave them like that. No words come out.

  I get the feeling that Dean isn’t necessarily the type to ask for things, but before I can answer him, I have my conditions. He knows what they are. Trust. Honesty. Everything.

  “When you say ‘stay,’” I begin, my lashes fluttering as I look down to the hollow of his throat directly in my line of sight. “Do you mean here? Tonight? Or Eastpoint?”

  “Eastpoint for sure,” he replies almost immediately. “But more than that, I want you to admit that you’re mine. I want you to stay with me. That’s what I mean when I say stay.”

  I glance back up. “You know what I want.”

  His entire palm slides beneath my shirt, no longer just the fingertips. The heat of his hand burns into my skin, into me. I lick my lips. “Give me some time,” he whispers, dipping his head until his mouth is next to my ear. The warmth of his breath brushing over my earlobe. I repress a shiver. Fuck, he’s good at that.

  “You can have all the time in the world.” I manage to keep my voice even as I say the words. I lift a hand and use it to push him back by his chest. “But until you give me what I want, you’re not getting what you want.”

  “You’ll admit it then?” he asks. “If I do.”

  I arch a brow and shrug nonchalantly. “Who knows?”

  Dean watches me, and when I push back again, he lets me go. I finish checking the room for anything we’re leaving—cell phone. On the floor, where it’d likely fallen out of my pocket when he’d peel
ed my jeans down my thighs. Neither of us had noticed. I quickly swipe it up and shove it back in place, glancing up and noticing that Dean, too, has his cell in his hand—the screen bright as he types something out before shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans.

  “You know,” I say as I turn towards the door. “There’s something bothering me.”

  “What’s that?” he asks, following behind me.

  “I’ve been here for hours, and yet, I haven’t seen Abel or Brax.” Dean stops in the doorway, and I pivot back, pursing my lips as I look up at him challengingly. “So, where are they?”

  “Busy,” he replies cryptically without hesitation. “Come on. Since you’re not staying the night, let’s go find your friend, and I’ll take you home.”

  I try to say something else, but just as I open my mouth, the friend in question ironically comes walking out of a door down the hall. There’s probably over eight thousand square feet of house, and just when Dean wants to find her and avoid answering my questions, low and behold she appears. I narrow my gaze as Rylie hears our approach and looks back.

  Her face gives nothing away as she pauses at the top of the stairs and waits. “Where’ve you been?” I ask as we meet her there.

  She shrugs. “Around.”

  “Thought you didn’t want me to ditch you,” I say.

  “I didn’t, and you didn’t. Good job. Are we leaving now?” She glances at Dean, but the question is for me.

  I sigh and start down the stairs. “Yeah. Move it. I’m tired and I’ve got to finish those pre-exam questions tomorrow.”

  I feel Dean’s gaze on my back as I descend the stairs, and I have the feeling that despite Rylie’s unexpected arrival, he’d much rather do anything but take me back to Havers dorm. Unfortunately for him, I am a woman of my word. There will be no staying—no matter how much I like the idea of falling asleep in his arms again—not until I can trust him. Otherwise, I’ll end up just like Patricia, and I’ll slit my own throat before that ever happens.

  12

  Dean

  Headlights wash over the empty road in front of me as my fingers clench the steering wheel. I'm not heading back to the Frazier house. There'll be too many people there until well after daybreak. Too many people I don't care about, and it'll be impossible to actually get any sleep. It had taken an insurmountable amount of self-control not to lock Avalon in my fucking SUV and keep her with me when I'd let her friend out at the Havers dorm. Good things came to those who planned and plotted, though. Tonight had been a step in the right direction. Whatever Abel and Braxton may think, I have to believe that she needs me as much as I fucking need her. The space I’d tried to give her hadn’t done shit. It wasn’t working. She was just as stubborn as ever, so what else was I supposed to do but bring her closer? She'd be with me soon enough, and as soon as she was, I'd make sure she'd never think to leave again.

  My cell chimes as a call comes through the speakers of the SUV. The sharp and shrill sound punches through my attention for only a brief moment, and I know it’s the answer I've been waiting for all night. I would've preferred to have gone with Braxton and Abel, but someone needed to stay behind to ensure Avalon wouldn't catch on. I can't say I didn't enjoy my duties. Lionel Frazier's old home office is now my favorite fucking room in the entirety of the party house. From now on, every time I enter that room, all I'll be able to think of is Avalon bent over the desk. Her juicy ass tipped up and stripped bare. Her soft moans like fucking ambrosia to my ears.

  Once again, the urge to turn my SUV around and haul ass back to campus and straight to the girl who drags me through the muddy waters of her soul just for a taste of heaven just like she had tonight nearly consumes me. The desire to kidnap her away, lock her in my bedroom, and fuck her until there’s no doubt in her mind who owns her body is like a fucking drug. My cell chimes again, reminding me that I need to answer.

  I huff out a breath and shake my head as I cut through a light, realizing I still haven’t answered the damn call. "Dean," I snap, punching the button on the console screen as I refocus my attention.

  "It's all clear here," Abel's voice drifts through the interior of the vehicle.

  My brows lower. "What do you mean it's clear?"

  "I mean, there's nothing here," he snaps. "He either knew we were going to look into it, and he had the files burned, or there's something we're missing."

  "What about Kincaid?" I ask.

  “Dean. There's nothing," he repeats, sounding frustrated. "No paper or digital files. The computers were wiped. His office and Bairns'. We even checked my old man's and Braxton's—though they're never on campus.”

  "You think they could be in his business office?" I ask. It's a long shot; my father spends even less time at his office in the city than he does at the university, preferring to travel when he works.

  "I think he's smart enough to have hidden anything he thinks we can find," Abel grunts.

  My tongue flicks behind my teeth, and I snarl as I strangle the steering wheel. "Is Brax there?" I ask.

  "Of course."

  "Put the phone on speaker."

  He doesn't answer, but a moment later, the speakers crackle, and Braxton's voice echoes out—sounding a little further away than he would be if the phone was pressed to his face. So, Abel must be holding it up for him.

  "Dean?"

  "We need to find out if Kincaid is really transferring," I start. "And then we need to find how to get him alone." I want uninterrupted time with Luc Kincaid. I'll need it to get the information I want. It's risky, but the image of Avalon—bloodied and bruised and half-naked as that old, disgusting drug dealer pumped his scrawny hips into her body makes me want to shove someone's head through my windshield.

  "And what about Kate?" Brax asks.

  "She'll be taken care of after Kincaid—he's got to be the brains behind what happened. She's conniving and a cunt, but she's not smart enough to pull something like this off."

  "If someone set her up, we'll find them." Abel's words are exactly what I need to hear.

  "Yes, we will." I’ll accept no other outcome.

  “You sure you have eyes on her?” Abel asks.

  “Yes,” I snap. “I’ve got people watching. Even if she takes off like last time, she’ll be followed. We won’t be two steps behind like last time.” Never again, I swear silently. We will never be too late again.

  “Dean, there’s something else you should know.” Braxton’s voice comes over the speakers. “We didn’t find shit about her or Kincaid, but there was something else.”

  “What?”

  “We checked his answering machine. There were no messages, but there was a familiar number in the log. That’s one thing he forgot to erase,” Abel answers.

  A bad feeling sinks into my gut, but I need to know. “Who was it?”

  “Patricia Manning.”

  The corners of my lips turn down. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. “You’re sure?” I ask.

  “Yeah, we checked it,” Brax says. “Whether or not she was the one who answered or called, the number is listed as hers.”

  I consider that. “Do we have eyes on Patricia Manning?” I ask.

  “Negative,” Brax responds. I can picture the two of them sharing a glance as silence echoes through the speakers following that answer.

  I remove a hand from the steering wheel and scrub a palm down my face. Shit. More complications. Just what we don’t need. “Contact one of the PIs we have on retainer,” I order. “Have him track her down.”

  “Are we telling Ava?” Abel asks.

  “Not just yet. She might not even give a shit,” I say.

  “Are we telling her anything?” Brax snaps, his tone tight.

  I can only imagine what he’s thinking. I sigh. “She’ll be taken care of, Brax,” I say as calmly as I can. “We’re not keeping this shit from her forever. Just until we’ve got more information.”

  “I don’t like it,” he replies.

  As if I couldn’t al
ready tell.

  “I know.” I’m not exactly crazy about it either, but with the way Avalon took off last time … I’m also not willing to take any chances. The sooner she’s with me for good, the better. “Abel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need you to do me a favor,” I say.

  There’s a pause and then, “What do you need?”

  I take a deep breath. Avalon is going to wreck us when she finds out what we’ve got planned for her. She doesn’t seem to be aware of it yet, but we’re not going away. I’m not going away. I’d meant what I said when she’d asked me what she had to do to get me to leave her alone. The only way I’ll leave her is if she kills me. The sooner she realizes that, the sooner my sanity might return.

  “Dean?” Abel’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts.

  I take a deep breath, refocusing, and then I tell him exactly what I need. I don’t want her to see it coming until it’s too late—until there’s nothing she can do to get away. One way or another, Avalon Manning will end up in my bed. Permanently. It’s only a matter of time and patience on my part.

  13

  Avalon

  I can feel Rylie's stare like a heatwave scorching my face as we walk back to Havers the following Monday. Normally, I'd stop and demand to know what the fuck is up, but today I'm distracted. Patricia still hasn't returned my calls. I’ve never tried to get ahold of her so much; I thought she might at least be curious to know what I want, which is just to know if she’s alive or dead.

  "You good?" Rylie's voice draws me out of my thoughts.

  I hum, a non-answer. She continues to eye me. We remain like that, walking in semi-comfortable silence with words unspoken between us until we come to the crosswalk directly across from Havers. She stops on the sidewalk and scowls across the way. It's so sudden that it makes me stop too. I follow her gaze and spot a familiar red Mustang waiting in front of the building.