Cruel Shame

by Sofia Daniel

  Sagging onto the mattress, I exhaled a weary breath. I thought we had moved from him disliking me? What happened to the Kendrick who saved me from Elizabeth’s psycho attack and the Kendrick who agreed to accompany us to our dirty weekend? Maybe he had heard how Maxwell and I had passed the time during our last train journey and thought I might demand the same from him.

  I dropped my gaze to my lap. If I told him I wasn’t expecting stud service, he’d scoff and say something cutting. Right now, I couldn’t cope with an argumentative Kendrick.

  Finally, he stepped inside, closed the door, and lowered himself into the armchair. “This is where I’ll sleep.”

  I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. “There’s plenty of space for two here.”

  His gaze slid to the bed and fixed on the hand I’d placed on the mattress. “Very well,” he said with a sniff. “But you will keep your hands to yourself.”

  My brows rose. That had been surprisingly easy. I thought Kendrick would posture and huff and bluster a little more before agreeing to sleep at my side. He still wasn’t meeting my eyes, instead, holding his features haughty and his head high.

  Pressing my lips together to hide a smile, I said, “It will be a struggle, but I’ll try to control myself.”

  His posture relaxed, and I chewed on my lip. Was that relief? Sometimes, I didn’t know what to make of Kendrick.

  My phone buzzed. It was a message from Felicity, one of the girls who had been expelled for lewd conduct.

  I wasn’t going to reply to your first email. It took a while to get over that business with Elizabeth, and I didn’t want to dredge up old hurts. It’s one thing to get rid of a rival who can start again in a different school, but she’s gone too far with the headmaster. What do you need from me?

  The train trundled out of the station and picked up speed. I rose from the mattress, pulled the stool to the table, and placed my phone on its surface. “Look.”

  Kendrick read the message and sighed. “How could we have been so stupid?”

  I held my silence and waited for him to elaborate. Even though Maxwell had groveled and proven that he had regretted his actions, and Orlando claimed not to have known about the police raid, I still didn’t understand why a straight-laced guy like Kendrick would agree to associate with someone who did such shitty things to others.

  He shook his head. “We were so focused on pleasing Elizabeth that we never considered the effects our actions would have on those other girls.”

  “You know she probably fell out with those girls because they refused her advances.”

  “It seems so obvious now,” he muttered under his breath. “All this time, I thought she was the paragon of purity, but she just wanted the girls for herself.”

  For the rest of the evening, Kendrick was surprisingly attentive for a guy who claimed that watching over me would be a sacrifice. He ordered me a red lentil soup with a ham and cheese sandwich, and reminded me to take my tablets.

  His calming presence was exactly what I needed while feeling so delicate. Instead of fussing over me like Orlando and Maxwell might have done under these circumstances, he gave me space to process the day but always seemed to know if I needed more water, a cup of tea, or even a charger for my smartphone.

  Kendrick reminded me so much of Gideon, who also had a cool, quiet exterior. I wondered if like Gideon, it hid a depth of loyalty and warmth.

  As the evening wore on, the warm air swirled around the room, making my eyes grow heavy. I placed a hand to my mouth and yawned.

  “Nine-forty-five.” Kendrick stood and walked over to my armchair.

  “Huh?” I gazed up into his gray eyes, remembering the Kendrick I had befriended earlier in the year. That version of him had been just as nice and as kind as him.

  The corner of Kendrick’s mouth curled into a smile. “If you go to bed now, you’ll get seven hours of sleep before breakfast.”

  “Right.” I toed off my shoes and unbuttoned my jeans.

  Kendrick rocked forward, his eyes bulging. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting into bed.” I raised my hips, pulled my jeans down my legs, and eased them off my ankles.

  He turned around, breathing hard. “You were supposed to use the bathroom.”

  “Sorry.” I pulled my top over my head, unhooked my bra, and let the garment drop to the floor. “It’s too late, now. Let’s just go to bed.”

  Kendrick turned around, his gaze lingering on my bare breasts. Pink bloomed across his cheeks. “Lilah Hancock.”

  “What, now?” I stretched out my hand in a silent order for him to pull me out of my seat.

  Kendrick stepped back, his jaw clenched. “You’re naked.”

  “Not yet.” I hooked my thumbs under my knickers.

  “Don’t do that,” he hissed.

  I pulled myself to my feet, rubbed my temple, and blinked myself back into awareness. For some reason, I didn’t think it would be a problem to get undressed in front of Kendrick. If Myra hadn’t shot at me this morning, he would have gotten a front-row seat to a spit roast. He probably might have participated, too. Maybe it was the concussion, but I had no idea what he found so offensive.

  Kendrick advanced on me with his nostrils flared, and his skin darkening each time his gaze dropped to my nipples. “If you think I’ll get into bed with you in that state—”

  “You volunteered to take care of me.” I wrapped my arms around his middle. “Stop acting like I’m about to pin you down and climb up your pole.”

  “You won’t?”

  “Not unless you ask nicely.” I drew back and met his shocked eyes with a smile.

  Kendrick pushed back a lock of hair and tucked it behind my ear. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “How about letting me curl up around you and fall asleep?”

  He sniffed. “I might be amenable to your request.”

  I drew back and placed my hands on his chest. Rapid heartbeats reverberated beneath my palms, a sign of heat beneath his cold exterior.

  “Did you bring pajamas or something?” I asked.

  “It hardly seems appropriate, considering your level of undress.” Kendrick lowered me to the mattress and held out his palm in the universal sign for stop. It was the kind of gesture people made to ferocious dogs just before they attacked. I sat back, resting my palms on the mattress behind me and let my gaze rove up and down Kendrick’s body.

  He wore a navy sweater and underneath that, a white-and-gray striped shirt, with dark pants in a subtle herringbone pattern. As he’d angled his body away from me, I couldn’t see the state of his arousal. Judging by his heavy breathing, he sounded like a man ready to fuck.

  I squeezed my thighs together, fighting off the urge to help him undress. With every item of clothing he removed, Kendrick turned around to check that I was still watching. What a bloody tease. Maxwell and Orlando would have had me flat on this mattress, moaning and writhing under their hands and tongues.

  Heat surged between my legs, and arousal stirred in my core. There was something to be said about a man who played hard to get. I’d seen Kendrick’s body before on Maxwell, but the way he took his time also had me breathing hot and hard and heavy.

  After pulling off his sweater, Kendrick rubbed a hand over his chest before sliding his hands down the neckline of his shirt. I licked my lips and squeezed my thighs together.

  He untucked the tails of his shirt, letting the fabric drape over his crotch and turned to me with glittering eyes. “Disappointed?”

  “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen before,” I said with a smirk.

  Annoyance flickered across his features. My smirk widened into a grin. Just because I’d seen his brother naked, it didn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him.

  Fixing his eyes on mine, he unfastened one button and then another and another and another, revealing his muscled torso inches at a time. A moan reverberated in the back of my throat as I caught glimpses of pecs, a tight six pack and the beginni
ngs of a faint treasure trail.

  “Bloody hell,” I muttered under my breath.

  Kendrick narrowed his eyes and smirked. “I thought you said you’d seen it before.”

  “Not like this.”

  He pulled back his shirt, revealing nipples pierced by barbells.

  My mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “I lost a bet.” He unbuttoned his cuffs and tossed his shirt on the table. “Surprised?”

  “Actually, I am.” I reached out for his belt buckle. “Do you need any help?”

  Kendrick gave my hand a gentle slap. “Restrain yourself.”

  “I’ll try.”

  He kicked off his shoes and made a big show of taking off his socks, a plot to annoy me as I waited for the good bits. By the time he unbuckled himself and unbuttoned his pants, wetness gathered between my folds, and I was ready to pounce.

  When he finally pulled down his pants, it was to reveal a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs strained over a huge erection. It stretched diagonally across his crotch and pulled against his waistband.

  All the air left my lungs in an outward breath. I didn’t remember Maxwell being this big, but then I sort of thought that every time I saw him naked.

  I leaned forward with a moan on my lips.

  Kendrick stepped back. “I thought you said you wanted to sleep.”

  “I would if you didn’t keep drawing it out,” I snapped.

  He raised his brows and smirked before turning all the lights except for the lamp over the bed. I eyed his body as he moved, marveling at the way his muscles bunched and rippled.

  When he finally got in the bed, I crawled into the space next to him, pulled back his arm, nestled on the juncture of his shoulder, and placed my palm on his chest. By now, Kendrick’s heartbeat had returned to normal. His arm wrapped around my back, adding to my feeling of being safe.

  “Goodnight,” I murmured into his neck.

  Sleep pulled me under before I could even hear his reply, and a combination of fatigue and painkillers sent me into a deep spiral of rest. But what seemed like moments later, a hissed whisper broke me out from a pleasant dream.

  “Lilah.” The exasperated sound rattled through my ears.

  “Hmmmm.” My fingers curled around his hot, pulsing organ. My core made a responding pulse.

  He snarled. “Wake up.”

  “What’s wrong?” I ran my fingers down the length and cupped an impressive set of balls.

  “Lilah Bloody Hancock,” he barked. “If you don’t stop that right now, I will spend all over your hands.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I pulled my hand out from his boxer-briefs and scrambled to the edge of the bed, only stopping when my back hit the wall. My heart clenched and unclenched with panicked palpitations. What the bloody hell?

  Kendrick glowered up at me in the semi-darkness through narrowed eyes. Pale sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the rapid rise and fall of his muscled chest. A deep flush spread across his cheeks and neck, reaching his collarbone, and the covers gathered to the tops of his legs.

  “Sorry.” I bit down on my lip. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I’m well aware that you were asleep,” he snapped.

  My brows drew together, and I let my gaze wander down his muscled pecs, his chiseled six-pack and to the thick, juicy erection straining out from his briefs and taking up his entire lower belly. It was tall and straight and thick with raised veins, and a bulbous, red tip.

  Saliva flooded my mouth. It looked hot and furious and on the verge of erupting.

  “Do you want me to finish you off?” I asked.

  Kendrick’s eyes widened, and he bared his perfect teeth in another snarl. Without another word, he yanked the waistband of his boxer-briefs over his erection, pulled himself out of the bed, and stormed across the room.

  “Sorry,” I said to his disappearing back.

  He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door with a hard slam.

  I sat back on my heels and clutched at my temples. In all these months of sleeping alone, I’d forgotten how my hands could wander at night. Sammy loved being woken up with a hand around his morning erection. Depending on his mood, he’d get me to ride him to completion or use my mouth. It was never a big deal, but I could see why it would mortally offend a guy like Kendrick.

  Last night, he’d reminded me so much of Maxwell, even down to the nipple piercings, I must have forgotten where I was and who I was with. My tongue darted out to lick my lips. Everything had felt so right until he hissed at me to wake up.

  The train rumbled and rocked from side to side. I stared at the closed door, my heart sinking. Poor Kendrick had gone from pining after a girl who couldn’t return his feelings to being molested in his sleep by a girl who had not only fucked his brother but fucked him while believing he was Kendrick.

  I stared down at my hands, hoping he wouldn’t return to Glasgow the moment the train pulled into Euston Station.

  “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I muttered. “Can’t keep them to my bloody self.”

  Less than five minutes later, Kendrick emerged from the bathroom, his hair wet, his body glistening, and his muscular frame wrapped in a towel. A scowl crossed his features, making him look like he was building himself up to a rant.

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Say no more.” Kendrick raised a hand. “It’s just as I expected. You have pitiful self-restraint and couldn’t help yourself.”

  My lips formed a tight line. He hadn’t even allowed me to finish. “If you’re going to start calling me Lilah Handjob, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” He advanced on me, his features morphing into a triumphant smirk. “Tell my brother how you reached into my boxers and grabbed my manhood? How you would have stroked me to completion had I not forced you to stop?”

  I reared back and blinked away the last remnants of sleep. Kendrick was making me sound like I was rabid for his dick. My gaze dropped to the bulge protruding from his towel, and everything slotted into place. The arrogant git was getting off on this.

  Fuck that.

  If he wanted to rewrite history into a wank fantasy, he could keep it in the privacy of his own head. Pushing myself off the mattress, I knelt on the edge of the bed in my panties. The pale light lingered over my bare breasts, attracting Kendrick’s gaze.

  He parted his full lips and swallowed. “You’ve wanted me for weeks, admit it.”

  “And you sound like you want me to pull off that towel and grab your dick.”

  Kendrick bared his teeth, and a growl reverberated in the back of his throat. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  I leaned back and met his eyes. I’d seen Kendrick’s entire negative spectrum of emotions, from anger to distrust to disdain. Today, his eyes burned, his bare chest heaved with rapid breaths, and his erection strained against that towel.

  “What are you looking at?” he snapped.

  “You, pretending you don’t want me to tear off that scrap of fabric, pin you to the bed and descend on your cock in a frenzy.”

  He gripped the edge of the towel and stiffened. “What are you—”

  “Earlier, you knew I was asleep and didn’t want to take advantage of my sleep-wanking.” I pushed myself off the bed and took a step toward him.

  Kendrick shuffled back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  I placed both hands on his chest, enjoying how his heart thundered beneath my fingertips. “I’m awake now.”

  “You are,” he whispered.

  I trailed my fingertips down his torso, daring him to slap my hands away, to tell me to stop, but he let my hands wander over his damp, naked flesh. Kendrick was such a liar. Sure, he was too much of a gentleman to climax under the fingers of an unconscious girl but the bullshit afterward? Not gentlemanly at all.

  “Do you want it?” I flicked my gaze down to the tent in his towel and back up to his eyes.

  “What are
you talking about?” he hissed.

  I rocked forward on my tip-toes and pressed my body against his. His huge dick pushed against my belly. Kendrick could have stepped back, could have shoved me away, but he stayed firm. He could also have wrapped an arm around my waist, but he let them remain slack at his sides.

  My lips grazed his ears. “Do you want me to reach under that towel, wrap my fingers around that big, hard cock and stroke you to a shuddering climax?”

  “How dare you—”

  “This is my final offer,” I hissed.

  “Yes.” The word came out a ragged exhale.

  “Alright.” I slid my hand down his thigh and reached beneath the hem of his towel.

  Warm air swirled around us, yet he shivered under my touch. My fingers trailed up his inner thigh, not stopping until I grazed his balls. They were plump and round and firm.

  If we weren’t standing in the middle of a train hurtling toward London, and this was Maxwell or Orlando, I might have eased him onto the bed and spent some time sucking one after another while playing with that dick.

  I glided over the lightly furred testicles and gripped him at the base of his erection.

  Kendrick hissed through his teeth.

  “Is this your first time?” I murmured into his ear.

  “No,” he said in a tight voice. “My first was with a harpy who couldn’t keep her hands off me. Not even when she was asleep.”

  “That doesn’t count.” I slid my fingers over smooth-as-velvet skin encasing a hard shaft of bumps and ridges and veins with an impossibly thick tip. He pulsed and expanded with every stroke, the exact size and shape as his twin, but infinitely more responsive.

  Each slide, each slip, each caress of my hands over his flesh elicited the most delicious moans and pants and groans. Touching Kendrick was like playing an instrument that whimpered and shuddered at my command, and each of his responses filled me with pleasure.

  He lasted longer than I had imagined for a first-timer, but then he’d probably finished himself off earlier in the shower.