King of Hawthorne Prep

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Yum...soup! That does sound good! Even though I’m not technically sick, it’s medicine for the soul, right?

  Exactly. And right now, it’s much needed.

  I chew my lower lip and pretend to ponder the decision. “You really think I should stay home?”

  She rolls her eyes. Hard. “One hundred percent. Plus, we have that party coming up. I want you well.”

  “All right.” I nod, giving the appearance of capitulation. “I’ll stay home.”

  Now that it’s been decided, she shoos me from the sun-drenched kitchen with a flick of her wrist. “Go back to bed. I’ll check on you later.”

  Don’t mind if I do.

  I practically tap dance my way up the staircase before slipping inside my room and jumping onto the queen-sized bed with an ecstatic bounce.

  Screw you, Kingsley Rothchild!

  Victory is mine!

  A wide smile curves my lips as I imagine the aggravated expression that will flash across his face when he realizes I’ve managed to outsmart him. It almost makes me wish I could be a fly on the wall in Ms. Pettijohn’s classroom to see it for myself.

  With an absurd amount of smugness filling me for foiling his dastardly plans, I pull the covers over my body and allow my eyelids to feather closed. In no time at all, I’m drifting off. For the next couple of hours, I float in and out of sleep. Barely do I register Mom laying her hand across my forehead before whispering that Austin will be accompanying them to the office. The soup has been made and is simmering on the stove, ready whenever I want it. I mumble out a response before burying myself beneath the blankets again and getting dragged back under. By the time I resurface, I’m completely rested. I grab my phone from the nightstand and blink at the time.

  Is it really nine o’clock?

  With a stretch, I throw off the covers and hop out of bed before gravitating to the window that overlooks the yard. The sky is a deep cornflower blue, and there’s not a cloud in sight. The sun is shining and it’s gorgeous out. Certainly not a day that should be spent in the classroom. Especially Hawthorne Prep.

  My gaze is drawn to the sparkling water below.

  Yes! Yes! Yes!

  The pool company had recently been out to get all the mechanicals up and running. The dark blue tiles have been scrubbed clean, water has been added, and chemicals have been balanced. It’s been years since the pool was operational.

  Mom and Dad won’t be home until later this afternoon. It’s the perfect opportunity to enjoy the last dregs of summer before the frigid weather of autumn gets ushered in. It only solidifies what a good idea it was to play hooky. A tiny squeal of excitement escapes as I swing away from the window and dig through the second drawer of my dresser to find a bathing suit. I pull out the first one my fingers come in contact with.

  Drumroll, please. And the lucky winner is...

  A little black string bikini!

  It’s not one I wear often because it’s a little too revealing to wear around family. Dad would probably have an apoplectic fit if he saw me in it. Today, with the fam gone, it’s getting worn.

  I strip off the tank and panties before stepping into the bikini bottoms and fastening the top. I secure the tiny triangles over my breasts before grabbing a towel from the bathroom and heading downstairs. As if on cue, my belly growls as the aroma of soup permeates the air.

  No matter what the weather, there’s something infinitely comforting about homemade chicken noodle soup. I chow down an overflowing bowl until my belly is content before dropping the dirty dishes in the sink and exiting through the sliding door to the red stamped patio.

  Almost immediately the blistering sun beats down on me, stroking over my flesh. I run inside and grab a can of sunscreen before liberally spraying my front and back. Then I stretch out on a plush lounger and allow it to dry.

  I exhale a breath as my skin heats. If I were at school, I would be in third hour, dreading lunch with Kingsley. Yesterday was a nightmare. From the shirt he made me wear without a bra, to the way he treated me like a servant, and then forcing me to sit on his lap and feed him.

  Today, the big jerk will have to get his own food.

  When a light sweat coats my body, I decide it’s the perfect time to take a dip. The pool isn’t the standard rectangle. It’s custom, more of a kidney shape with an outcropping of rocks where water slides over them creating a mini waterfall. The sound is ridiculously soothing. Near the rock formation is a round stone hot tub.

  With my toes at the edge of the blue tile, I dive headfirst into the deep end. Cool, refreshing water envelopes my body as I arrow through the salty liquid before surfacing at the other end.

  It’s official. I’ve died and gone to heaven.

  I swim a few laps from one end to the other before lazily turning onto my back. With my eyes closed, I enjoy the sun as it strokes over my bare skin. It’s only after my fingers turn pruney that I drag myself from the pool and collapse on the lounger with a satisfied sigh. I turn over onto my belly and reach around, untying the knot at my neck and in the middle of my back until the strings slide to the sides.

  My eyelids feather closed as the gentle gurgling of the water feature fills my ears. Birds chirp as I drowsily drift under the scorching sun. I don’t know how long I doze off for. All I know is that I’m jarred out of my contented state when a sharp slap lands across my ass cheek. I blink away the grogginess and rear up before swinging around. My heartbeat stutters when my gaze collides with a narrowed one.

  “Ow!” I cry when he cracks the other side with as much force. “Stop that!”

  “Why aren’t you at school?”

  “I’m sick.” When he continues to glare, lips sinking into a frown, I force out a weak-sounding cough.

  His gaze meanders over my nearly naked body. “Not that I’m complaining, but this is the second time I’ve found you with your titties on display. It’s almost like you’re trying to tempt me into playing with them.”

  I glance down at the unobstructed view he has of my breasts before dropping my body to the cushion.

  “Please, I’m not trying to tempt you into anything,” I grumble, wishing he would go away. “I’m enjoying the sunshine. I was in dire need of some vitamin D.”

  He steps closer, dropping into a squat until he’s nearly eye level with my ass. The tiny brief does nothing to cover my cheeks. It’s more of a glorified thong, which is exactly why I don’t wear it. Clearly, that decision has come back to bite me in the ass.

  The moment Kingsley’s fingers settle on my warmed flesh, I hiss out a breath. His gaze jerks to mine as his hand strokes over the rounded curve before giving it a squeeze. The tips of his fingers bite into my muscle and I close my eyes as a groan slips free.

  Why?

  Why does it feel so good when he touches me?

  The magnetic attraction is undeniable. Is it because he’s the first boy to give me pleasure?

  I really hope so. I don’t want it to be anything more than that.

  Even though I tell myself to be strong, he demolishes that silent promise with the devilish glint that enters his eyes. One stroke of his fingers against my scorched flesh, and he creates a raging inferno within. I have no idea how to flip the switch and turn it off.

  Is that even possible?

  A more troublesome question—do I want to?

  I shove that distressing thought from my head, unwilling to entertain it.

  “I missed you,” he rasps as if he’s as turned on by touching me as I am by what he’s doing. “Did you miss me?”

  “No.” I force the lie from my lips, not wanting him to discover how much he affects me.

  “Is that so?” Humor and challenge fill his voice. It’s a deadly combination.

  Too late, I realize my mistake. Now he’ll need to prove me wrong.

  A shaky breath escapes as his fingers dance along the cleft between my cheeks.

  “I think you’re lying to me,” he sing-songs, his voice sounding as if it’s been roughed up by
sandpaper. It scrapes something deep inside me, sparking a thousand tingles that scamper along my over-sensitized skin.

  A yelp of surprise slips free when he bites the firm round muscle with his teeth. It’s sharp enough to send a sizzle of pain scuttling through me, but not hard enough to bruise or break the flesh.

  “I don’t like when you lie,” he growls, warm breath feathering against me.

  Another stinging slap lands on my cheek before he palms the muscle in his hand. As he works my flesh, a reluctant groan slides from my lips. My body becomes limp under his tender ministrations.

  I’m so relaxed, I don’t immediately realize he has pulled the ties at my hips that hold the bikini bottoms in place until it’s much too late. Before I can protest, he’s back to manhandling my flesh. Only this time, when he pulls at the firm globes, separating them with his hands, there’s nothing to bar his view of my backside.

  “Kingsley,” I squeak, a bolt of panic shooting through me.

  “Shhhh,” he grunts, never once letting up on the sweet torture. “I like looking at you.”

  That acknowledgment sends a second wave of alarm flooding through me.

  His hands glide from my lower back to my thighs, not leaving one inch of flesh untouched, as if he’s trying to brand every single part of me. It doesn’t take long for my anxiety to retreat and I’m once again sinking into the plush cushion. I’ve never felt so relaxed and turned on at the same time. It’s a strange yet addictive combination.

  What he’s doing is more of a slow burn than last night.

  My eyes spring wide when his hands slide around my hips and he drags me up so that my ass is in the air. My knees fold beneath me as the side of my face gets pressed against the lounger.

  “Kingsley,” I whimper, struggling to rise as I imagine the unobstructed view he has, “please.”

  “You know it drives me crazy when you beg.” One heavy hand presses between my shoulder blades to pin me in place as the other strokes over my ass, continuing to knead the flesh. “Especially when you’re on your knees.”

  Gulping down my rising alarm, I watch him from the corner of my eye.

  His gaze never wavers as his fingers brush over the lips of my pussy. “So fucking pretty.”

  Short gasping pants fall from my mouth. I’m torn. What he’s doing feels decadent, but the position is embarrassing. When I finally give in and stop struggling, the firm pressure between my shoulder blades disappears, and he’s back to squeezing my ass. The way his fingers sink into the tensed muscle before tugging the cheeks in opposite directions sends a cascade of shivers careening down my spine.

  “Every part of you is pretty,” he mutters thickly.

  I groan when he nips at my flank, feathering seductive little kisses along my hip and thigh before slowly making his way to the inside. My breath hitches, turning into a cry when his tongue dips into my entrance.

  “One taste wasn’t nearly enough.” His warm breath feathers against my intimate flesh, creating a delicious ache. “I need more.”

  As much as I don’t want to be turned on, I am. There is something ridiculously erotic about being out in the open while I’m naked and he’s wearing his school uniform. The blazer has been left behind and the first two buttons of his crisp white shirt are unfastened, revealing a slice of his throat. His sleeves have been rolled up to expose bronzed, muscular forearms. The picture we must make is deliciously dirty.

  I squeeze my eyes tightly shut to blot out the image of him. There is such a look of intensity on his face as he eats me up with his eyes.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I should be horrified. But not a word of protest slides from my lips. How can it when I’m all but reveling in his touch?

  Depraved.

  I must be as depraved as he is.

  His fingers are splayed wide as his thumbs sweep dangerously close to the most private part of me. I shudder out a breath as his tongue strokes my pussy with unhurried laps. The pad of his thumb grazes over my anus and my eyes fly open in alarm. When I wiggle, attempting to escape the intimate touch, his fingers bite into my flesh, anchoring me to the lounger. His mouth slides up a few inches before his teeth sink into my cheek and his thumb deliberately settles over the puckered muscle where it stubbornly remains.

  It's as if he’s waiting for me to protest his claim of ownership. There is no fooling myself into believing that he isn’t deliberately touching me in such a taboo place. The puffs of air that leave my mouth are harsh and labored. My heart jackhammers a painful staccato under my breast, feeling like it might explode.

  Why aren’t I screaming bloody murder or trying to roll away?

  The truth of the matter is if I wanted to, I could easily escape. I choose to remain still. Folded in submission, with my ass in the air, and the side of my face pressed against the cushion while he explores my body.

  Never in my life have I felt so vulnerable.

  This feeling of being on display, with the hot sun stroking over my sensitive bits of flesh is one of the most humbling and yet strangely empowering sensations I have ever experienced. It makes little sense. Uncertainty swirls through me, creating havoc inside my brain, as my teeth sink into my lower lip.

  What is this boy doing to me?

  When his finger vanishes, I release a pent-up breath that is tinged at the edges with disappointment. He runs his thumb along the lips of my soaked pussy before sliding it deep inside and pumping it a few times. My inner muscles clench around the intrusion. When he drags the digit from my body, a sense of emptiness takes its place.

  He brushes a kiss meant to comfort along my flank before the same thumb that had been buried inside me returns to my backside. I gulp at the slickness now coating his digit as he rubs soft circles against the tight muscle. When I try to wiggle away, his teeth sink into my cheek until my movements cease. He caresses me with unhurried strokes until my body surrenders, accepting this intimate touch. My muscles loosen incrementally, one at a time.

  Now that I’m no longer mentally fighting the contact, unexpected pleasure rushes in from all sides, filling every bit of space. Unwilling to inspect the confusion hovering at the outer recesses of my brain, telling me this foreign touch shouldn’t feel so enjoyable, I can’t help but absorb the wonder of this new experience.

  When the blunt tip of his thumb prods the tight ring of muscle seeking entrance, I stiffen beneath his touch. His movement stills, but the digit does not retreat. It stays pressed against me. A reminder that he is not going anywhere. The application of pressure feels both scary and strangely erotic. I’m tempted to give in and relax my body, but I can’t mentally let go. I’m clenched against further invasion.

  The fingers of his other hand sink deep into my pussy. He repeats the movement until it becomes rhythmic. Delirium floods through me as I’m pushed relentlessly toward climax. As my body tightens, orgasm imminent, he backs off. His fingers slide from my sheath to dance around the drenched entrance.

  My core pulses with an awareness that makes everything else seem irrelevant. All I care about is coming. I need his fingers back inside me, stroking me to completion. I squirm beneath him as a whimper of frustration slides from my lips. He knows exactly what I seek but refuses to give it to me. With my hands pressed into the lounger at my chest, I strain toward him.

  What I fail to realize is that as I shift in his direction, the blunt tip of his thumb prodding the ring of muscle becomes more insistent. A wave of intensity washes over me as I pause. What becomes clear is that I can not have one touch without the other. His devilish fingers continue to rim me until I want to scream.

  I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and make a decision. Actually, there isn’t a choice to be made. I need this. I’m much too aroused to retreat now. As I carefully sink into his touch, his thumb breeches the entrance of my anus.

  I hiss out a breath when a burning sensation fills me. As if to reward the action, his fingers slide into my pussy, caressing the walls. His teeth scrape agai
nst my backside before he bites down, all the while continuing to press further into the tight space. A strange, but not entirely unpleasant, pressure fills me. The urge to lock my muscles against him pounds through me. When I clench, he nips me again before slipping the tip of his thumb out, but not completely. The sting dissipates as his other hand continues to glide over my heat.

  I groan when he pushes the digit back inside my tight hole. This time, the sting is less of a bite than previously. When his fingers caress my outer lips, I push my ass back, trying to get closer. The movement sends his thumb deeper. The way he teases my flesh makes more pleasure bloom inside. I’m so close to coming that it’s painful.

  When his thumb and fingers move in tandem, filling me at the same moment before retreating and then surging forward again, I lose it and scream out my orgasm. Kingsley doesn’t let up on the onslaught until every last ounce of delirium has been wrung from me and I collapse, my body sinking into the lounger as my eyelids droop. I’m almost dizzy as the last waves of ecstasy dissolve.

  When Kingsley finally eases his fingers from my body, he gives my ass a sharp slap. My eyes snap open, but I can’t work up the energy to glare. All I want to do is sleep.

  “Come on, let’s go,” he says impatiently, rising to his full height. “Fifth hour starts in twenty minutes. I don’t want to be late.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I grumble, rolling to my side. “I’m taking a mental health day.”

  “The hell you are.” He reaches around, tugging something from his back pocket before tossing it next to me.

  With a frown, I pick up the material.

  It’s another white shirt.

  The words—If found, return to K. Rothchild are stamped across the chest.

  “Oh, and make sure you wear a bra. I don’t want anyone else looking at those pretty little titties.”

  Grrrrr!

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  My feet slow when I find Kingsley lounging against the locker next to mine. For a moment, I allow my gaze to crawl over him while he’s unaware. His dark head is bent as he stares down at the phone gripped in his hand. His nose is a bit crooked as if it’s been broken and his lips are full. A perfect cupid’s bow. A shudder scuttles down my spine as I remember where those lips had been a few short hours ago.