A Higher Education

by Rosalie Stanton

  He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe he was letting it.

  He threw his head back, jerking his hips.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  This had gotten out of control really freaking fast. Not that Elizabeth had fooled herself into thinking she’d ever had it in control. Obviously, the very fact that she’d all but dragged Will into a secluded closet to molest him should be an indicator of how very not in control she was.

  Coming to class had been difficult enough today knowing that she’d have to see him. Knowing that he’d probably want to talk about what had happened, when she’d known that was a bad idea and she needed to go back to the strategy where she pretended he didn’t exist. Except she hadn’t been able to—she’d lost the power to ignore him sometime over the weekend, likely around the time she’d come all over his fingers. All morning she’d been off and now…

  Now she was pulling at his dick as her mouth got even more acquainted with his. This was wrong and stupid and she was only making things worse, but all things being fair, she did owe the guy an orgasm, at least. No matter what kind of skeazoid he was, he had outperformed her dildo ten to one. Returning the favor was just polite.

  Also, she was addicted to the sounds he made. Just thinking about those whimpers and moans had ensured she’d been in a state of perpetual horniness all damn weekend. Now, every time she stroked up the length of his cock, a stifled cry would tickle her lips and she’d melt.

  Will pulled away again, breathing hard. Yeah, that was a turn on too. Damn him.

  “Elizabeth,” he murmured. “Your hand. God. Feels so good.”

  Elizabeth swallowed, running her fingers down his shaft again until she reached the curly hairs at his groin. Then she fisted his cock at the base and dragged her hand upward again.

  Will sighed and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Your hand,” he said again. “Your mouth…”

  Whoa buddy.

  Her mouth?

  Elizabeth paused in mid-stroke. “Are you seriously asking me to blow you?”

  Her eyes had adjusted well enough that she could clearly see him blinking as though to clear his head. “What?” he asked.

  “Why is a handjob never good enough? I swear, guys—”

  “No,” he rasped harshly. “No. I wasn’t…I’d never ask for that.”

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Never?”

  “I wouldn’t…demean you by asking you to—”

  “Oh, so blowjobs are demeaning?” Who the hell was this guy?

  “I just don’t think—”

  “Clearly not,” Elizabeth said before sinking to her knees and sucking his cock into her mouth.

  “Wha—” Will released a strangled gasp that made the other delicious sounds he’d given her seem like dairy-free froyo pitted against the most decadent item she could order at Cold Stone.

  She took his cock further into her mouth until the tip of him was nudging the back of her throat. It had been a long time since she’d wanted to give a guy head—mostly because the men she’d been with had been demanding, which took the fun out of it for her.

  Will made this fun.

  She drew back slowly, reminding herself to breathe through her nose, tightening her lips and savoring each inch of him as she pulled back. It occurred to her only after she’d released his dick that the thing itself was massive. Perhaps not the largest cock she’d seen, but definitely one of the top three. She’d been so intent on making her point that she hadn’t taken the time to appreciate him fully, which was a crying shame after all the mental pictures he’d given her over the weekend.

  “Elizabeth—”

  She closed her mouth around the tip of his cock and gave a small suck.

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  A bubble of laughter rose in her throat. What else could she make him say?

  Elizabeth tongued the underside of his dick, then rolled her lips over her teeth and pressed down on his cockhead. Not too much pressure, but enough to make those delicious moans of his grow in volume. Any more and she’d worry about being caught, but dammit if that wasn’t half the appeal.

  How would Will react if the door suddenly opened? If the world saw that, underneath his piles and piles of money, he was just a dude after all?

  Then she thought of Wickham seeing her with her mouth around his enemy’s prick and experienced a rush of shame. She knew she was being stupid, but she was also enjoying herself and for the moment, she wanted to focus on that.

  Forget promises she’d made. Forget things she’d learned. Forget everything and just enjoy.

  She could go back to being responsible later. She hoped.

  Elizabeth wrapped a hand around the base of his erection and squeezed, then began sucking in earnest, dragging her mouth up and down his shaft as his hips jerked and his skin heated. Every time she took him back in, she made sure to lave the head of his cock with her tongue, to squeeze him with her lips. She reached up with her free hand to massage his balls, and at first contact, he damn near buckled at the legs.

  “Oh god,” Will murmured, tunneling his fingers through her hair. “Elizabeth… I…”

  But she didn’t want to hear it—she wanted him to come.

  Elizabeth drew his cock in as far as it would go once more, until his smooth head was again pressed as far as he could go. Then she began to work her throat around him, and Will went wild.

  “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.” He fisted her hair—not enough to hurt but enough to restrict movement, and hell if that didn’t turn her on more. Because, yes, she was a sick, sick girl. Will looked down and despite the darkness, she found his eyes.

  And shivered.

  “Gonna…gonna…”

  He didn’t get the words out, but that didn’t matter. She knew what he was gonna, and she wanted him to.

  So she kept swallowing.

  And with a final tremble, Will spilled himself down her throat. Elizabeth stayed where she was, holding onto him as his cock pulsed and jerked, working her head back and forth again to milk him for everything he was worth.

  Finally, when the spasms subsided, she drew back until just the tip of him remained between her lips, then released him with a wet plop.

  A thick, shuddering sigh tore through the confined space. It took a moment to register that his hands were still in her hair, his fingers lightly massaging her scalp.

  It was the sensation of those subtle, tender touches that dragged Elizabeth back into the real world. In a few seconds, Will’s brain would reconnect and he’d want to talk about what had happened, what it meant, analyze it to freaking death and she didn’t think she could stomach that because she could not go there.

  So she pulled back until her head was free, patted his cock, then bounded to her feet.

  Apparently, she’d sent Will suborbital. He didn’t blink back to himself until she slid her arms through her backpack straps.

  “Where are you going?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Somewhere that’s gone,” Elizabeth replied, fluffing her hair and hoping it didn’t look too tangled. “We’re even now.”

  “Even—?”

  But she didn’t elaborate. There was no point. Instead, she opened the door a sliver and slid back into the hallway. No sooner had she taken three steps than the class across the hall let out, and a steady stream of students piled into the corridor.

  Which meant Will would be stuck for at least a few minutes.

  Good timing, as it turned out, was everything.

  16

  Jane, the happiest person on the face of the planet, was crying.

  Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. She stood in the doorway to their room, staring at her friend and willing the scene in front of her to change. It didn’t. Jane was sitting in the middle of her bed, hugging her legs and releasing a gut-wrenching sound that could only mean one thing.

  Charlie had dumped her.

  But that didn’t seem possible. It couldn’t be possible,
because if there was one thing Elizabeth knew, it was the sign of a smitten man. Charlie hadn’t been able to peel his eyes off Jane for more than five seconds since they’d met. He couldn’t possibly go from that to splitsville in the course of one freaking weekend.

  Elizabeth was going to beat him to death with lawn equipment. It was only fair.

  As though sensing her presence, Jane looked up, her eyes swollen, tear-tracks wending down her cheeks.

  Something twisted in Elizabeth’s gut. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “Liz…Lizzie…”

  “I mean it. Charlie Bingley is one dead dude.”

  Elizabeth had been holding out hope that she was reading the signs wrong. That Charlie wasn’t responsible for the mess that was her best friend, that there was something innocuous, even something laughable behind this. But at the sound of Charlie’s name, Jane drew in a sharp breath, her eyes watering all over again.

  Oh yeah. There was a dead man walking over at Netherfield Heights.

  “I-it’s fine,” Jane said in what had to be the least convincing voice in the history of oral communication. “I-I am fine.”

  “Yeah. Obviously.” Elizabeth stormed forward, dropped off her backpack so it landed in the middle of the floor with a resounding thud. She gazed down at Jane’s miserable face, swore, then wrapped her friend into a bear hug. And Jane began to lose it again.

  “It’s not a big deal,” she insisted between sobs. “I should have seen it coming.”

  I should have too.

  The thought surfaced from nowhere, buried under the disbelief of just seconds ago, but so damn true it made her bones ache. Because despite however smitten Charlie had seemed, Elizabeth had learned the hard way that appearances meant shit. Guys who seemed too good to be true always were. Always.

  Elizabeth blinked hard and tightened her arms around Jane. “Did he tell you why, at least?”

  Jane released a rattling breath and pulled back. “He said he needed…to focus on his studies and that we wanted different things.”

  “Meaning you wanted to kiss and he wanted to cuddle?”

  “I think it’s because I didn’t sleep with him.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Are you shitting me?”

  Jane bit her bottom lip. “I know. I know. My nerves just…” She paused. “I’ve never done it. Had sex. I was…waiting. For someone I really liked. Or loved.”

  “Oh, Jane…”

  “And I thought that person was Charlie.” She sniffed, fresh tears brimming to the surface. “But every time I thought I was getting close, I’d chicken out and run to Caroline so she’d distract me. I think he got tired of that. I know I would have.”

  Mother. Fucker.

  “That sleazoid dumped you for not spreading your legs?” Elizabeth was on her feet in an instant. “Now I really am going to kill him.”

  “Lizzie, he didn’t say—”

  “I’m going to kill that fucker dead.”

  Jane bounded up too, waving her arms. “He never said that. He never even mentioned it. Sex was not a part of the conversation. That’s just my insecurity speaking.”

  “You wouldn’t have said that if you didn’t think there was some truth to it,” Elizabeth fired back. “And if you think there’s truth to it, it’s because he put that thought in your head.”

  “No. I put the thought in my head. I am in charge of my own thoughts.”

  “Well, I am in charge of punching Charlie Bingley right in the fucking throat.”

  Jane released a pitiful cry and launched herself at the door, stretching her arms and widening her legs to block the entrance.

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Please. I could totally take you.”

  “That’s not the point,” Jane said. “You’re not taking anyone. Charlie didn’t do anything wrong by breaking up with me.”

  “That’s for me and my fists of justice to decide.”

  “No. No. You are not going to go over there.” Jane stomped her foot—actually stomped her foot. “This entire thing is humiliating enough without my badass bestie storming off to defend my honor. Guys break up with girls every day. I just happen to be one of them.”

  Elizabeth felt the fire under her skin ebb a little, but only just. “Come on. Can I at least break one of his toes?”

  “Elizabeth!”

  “I’ll even take the pinkie.”

  Jane blinked at her as though trying to decide whether or not she was serious, then gave her head another shake and, amazingly, broke out into a soft smile. “I love you,” she said, dropping her arms and straightening her posture. “You know that, right?”

  “I do. You’ll love me even more after you see my plans for rearranging a certain dickhole’s face.”

  “Lizzie…”

  Elizabeth groaned and rolled her head back. “I am so losing my street cred.”

  “Worse things have happened.”

  Once she seemed reasonably satisfied that Elizabeth wasn’t going to bolt for the door, Jane moved back to her bed. While she had stopped crying, her eyes were lined in that telling way. There wasn’t enough foundation or powder in the world to cover that look. And the last thing Jane needed was it getting back to Charlie that she was taking the breakup hard.

  The next time anyone saw Jane, she needed to look eat-your-heart-out fabulous.

  “What do you want tonight?” Elizabeth asked. “Name it.”

  “What?”

  “Greasy burger, extra bacon? Pasta loaded with all the cheese and noodly goodness a gal can ask for? All the ice cream? Whatever you want, I’m buying.”

  Jane barked a laugh at that—a real laugh. “You’re impossible.”

  “Hey.” Elizabeth brought her hands up. “You’re denying me the pleasure of beating your ex-boyfriend to death. You will not take away my right to spoil you with post-breakup calories. So name what you want and I’ll go get it.”

  “Greasy burger, extra bacon,” she said. “And a double chocolate milkshake.”

  “Now you’re talking. Fries?”

  “The biggest size they offer.”

  Elizabeth beamed and picked up her purse. “One mild heart attack coming up.”

  “You’re the best, Lizzie.”

  “I do try.”

  * * *

  For the next few hours, Elizabeth kept her mind on Jane. No wandering to dangerous places, especially places inhabited by one Will Darcy. But after Jane had stuffed herself into a food coma and drifted off to sleep, Elizabeth’s mind revved its engine and dragged her back to the thing she’d successfully avoided thinking about all day.

  It seemed no matter what she did, no matter her intentions, she couldn’t keep herself from losing control around Will. There was no reason that she could see why she should be drawn to him now—why resisting should be any trouble at all—yet here she was.

  What did that say about her?

  She swallowed, turning over in bed, pulling the blankets over her shoulders. Whatever was going on with her, it had to end. This thing with Charlie and Jane had driven that point home like nothing else could. Feelings were toxic, especially if they were aimed at someone like Will. The past few days had been an exercise of stupidity on her part. Fooling around with Will was bad enough—to do so knowing what he was capable of?

  But is he?

  There was a very real part of her—the part that kept taking control of her mind and body when he was around—that voiced its doubt. Because she had to doubt on some level, didn’t she? Why else would she have shoved him into that closet today, or opened the door when he’d knocked a second time, knowing full well what would happen if he came into her room?

  A part of her doubted. Or rather, hoped.

  But goddamn, if he was capable of framing Wickham, he was certainly capable of lying about it, if he ever did more than dance around the issue like he had today. And what exactly did Wickham have to gain by making something like that up?

  Besides, lies weren’t exactly easy to come up with o
n the spot. Wickham hadn’t had to search or think about anything he’d told her. It had been straightforward—the sort of straightforward that came with the confidence of the truth.

  Which meant she was an idiot of the worst kind, knowingly getting involved with someone as powerful and vindictive as Will Darcy. Hell, if she did something he didn’t like, she might as well kiss her scholarship goodbye. If something happened that he didn’t like, she knew he had the power to make sure she never set foot on Meryton campus again.

  This was her future. It was time to stop self-sabotaging.

  Mind made up, Elizabeth forced out a deep breath and snuggled deeper into her blankets.

  Except her brain wasn’t that kind. Almost immediately, she began composing her script. The things she’d say to Will next, including some variation of so long and thanks for the orgasm and we’re cool, right? The key was to not get into another argument with him, since arguing for them was foreplay, and the safest recourse was to not go down that line at all. Be civil. Be brief. Be gone.

  The more she thought about it, the more adrenaline pumped through her veins. Elizabeth rolled over and eyed the clock on her nightstand. It was barely after midnight and she was wide-awake.

  She sat up and eyed Jane, who was curled into a ball, sawing logs.

  If she got this over with now, there was every chance she’d be able to get some sleep.

  Elizabeth chewed on that for a moment, then cursed and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t possibly be thinking about going to Netherfield Heights, could she?

  God, she totally was.

  Her heart began thudding hard, her hands grew cold and clammy. Going over there was the worst of all bad ideas, but goddammit, the more she thought about it, the more she needed to move. The more tempting the prospect became. Elizabeth swallowed and shook her head, lying back down.

  No. That was nuts. There was a time and a place for the conversation she needed to have with Will, and it was most certainly not now.

  Except when would it be a good time?