Living at the Frat House

by Wylder, Penny

  I shake my head. “That wasn’t…that wasn’t what I was doing.”

  Malcolm intentionally stalks forward and when he invades my space this time it’s exhilarating and terrifying. “And now lying?” His mouth curves into a vindictive smile, and his voice is deadly quiet. “Do you know who I am, Juno? I’m Malcolm Levar. My father is the chancellor of the university and I can have your admission revoked with one fucking phone call. You’re in my house—the house that belongs to my family and the fraternity that we founded. And you just stole and broke an heirloom that’s priceless. So tell me why the fuck you’re here.”

  My stomach plummets through the floor, and I find the words flying out of my mouth. “It was a dare. Pledge to the house and spend the night. Get proof. Go back afterward and be a hero.”

  “A dare by who?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not their fault. I’m the one who accepted. It’s on me.” I’m not going to rat out the Tri Deltas. His father is the chancellor, and he could just as easily revoke their sorority status over this as he could expel me.

  “Well you tell whoever it was that you do not fuck with my house.”

  I swallow hard. “I… okay.” It’s impossible to say anything else right now, in the face of his anger.

  “And you’re going to pay for that heirloom.”

  I swallow again. “H-how much did it cost?”

  That venomous grin again. I don’t know why it makes my stomach flip in a way that it shouldn’t, but the breath in my chest is shallow, and I’m reliving our kiss even as this man is trying to blackmail me. God, I need to get a grip. “The last time it was appraised it was worth three hundred thousand dollars.”

  I feel like the world is spinning, and I’m not sure if it’s his closeness or the fucking atomic bomb that he just dropped on my head, or both. “I don’t have that kind of money,” I say, gasping. “I’m here on scholarship.”

  Malcolm steps away from me and casually sits in his chair at the poker table. He’s completely at ease, the way he’s sprawling in the chair reminding me of a lion. I’m entirely at his mercy as he stalks in for the kill. “I’m sure we can come to another arrangement.”

  I don’t say anything, waiting for him to speak.

  “I officially welcome you as a pledge to Granite House. You live here for the year, and your debt is paid, Juno.”

  There’s so much adrenaline in my veins that I’m shaking. I clench my hands into fists so that he won’t see. “That’s all?” I ask. “I stay and be your housemate for the year, that’s all you want from me?”

  He clicks his tongue, disapproving. “I said you would live in this house. I did not say that you would be my housemate.”

  I’m not sure that I want to know the answer to the question, but I need to know it anyway. It’s not like I have another choice. There’s no way I can afford to pay back that kind of money. “Then… what would I be?”

  He toys with a poker chip absently. “My assistant. My maid. Whatever I need you to be, Juno.” His eyes rise to mine, filled with impossible heat and also unyielding anger. “You will be my personal plaything. My pet. I own you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Guess you’re going to find out,” he says, smiling. “It’s that or pay.”

  Butterflies take flight in my stomach. He’s right. I don’t exactly have a choice here. Melody didn’t tell me to take that vase, she told me to get proof. I took it because I thought that no one would notice. It’s on me, and I don’t have that kind of money. That’s money I could only ever dream of.

  But I raise my chin anyway, defiant, even in the face of this impossible scenario.

  “Okay,” I say, and I watch something like surprise flicker behind his gaze for a split second, before he smooths it away. “I’ll do it.”

  3

  Malcolm

  The party downstairs is still in full swing like it’s not the morning before classes start. These idiots will do anything to get drunk. My room is on the third floor and the noise is still unbearably loud. If it goes on much longer, I’m going to have to kick everyone out for my own sanity.

  Granite House has a reputation to maintain, after all. And I have a bigger problem to deal with at the moment. A gorgeous little freshman that’s currently pacing outside of my bedroom. I told her to wait, and that I had to take care of something, but really I just needed a second to think.

  I honestly didn’t think that she would say yes. I was angry, and I pushed her hard. But I thought she would break down into tears and beg, after which I had planned to be magnanimous, forgive her, and talk her into my bed instead. Because I can’t stop getting distracted by her curves in that fucking dress.

  Dear god, does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?

  Doesn’t matter. I push the thought from my mind.

  But that’s the farthest thing from what happened, and now she’s going to be living here. She agreed to be mine, whatever the hell I decide that means.

  I meant what I said to her. I don’t cross boundaries that women set, no matter what. Even if the idea of having my own plaything for the year is appealing, there’s no way I’m going to force her to do anything.

  Although, to be honest, I have every confidence that given the right opportunity, she will say yes. I’ll see to it. The way she melted when I kissed her has me distracted and hard nearly to the point of pain. She keeps stealing glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking, and I know she can feel the tension between us.

  I need to jack myself off before I go mad, but that will take longer than I’m going to make her wait.

  Because when I do get off, I want to take my time fantasizing about stripping her out of that dress and fucking her slowly. And make plans for exactly how it’s going to happen when it really does. Because it will.

  She’s an enigma. As soon as she agreed, she switched into business mode, apparently accepting her face with far more ease than I expected from a freshman with little to know experience in parties, let alone frat boys or men like me.

  “Where do I sleep?” she asked. “I have an early science lab.”

  Unlike the assholes still doing keg stands downstairs, she actually remembers that we’re here to go to school. Which is honestly sort of refreshing. But I’m not sure what to do with her, because the meeting that I had her waiting around for was to tell all the hopefuls that we didn’t have any rooms and that we would collect their emails for a waitlist in case any spots opened up during the year.

  I quickly send a text to Jack downstairs to tell all the people who came to pledge that they don’t have to wait. That we were full for now. He’ll probably be surprised, but I’ll deal with him in the morning. Right now I have Juno to deal with. It should be interesting, and I’m already looking forward to her reaction.

  The only place that she can sleep right now is in my room, because of the party and the fact that I need to break it to all the guys and set some ground rules. Besides, while I trust my guys, I do not trust all the pledges and party-goers still lingering around here. As that blond asshole from earlier was clear proof of.

  Pulling open the door, I find her staring at the shelf where the heirloom used to be. I don’t know what possessed her to take that thing. I’ll try to have it repaired as best I can and cross my fingers that my father doesn’t come to visit. It’s always been way more important to him than it ever was to me.

  But still, it’s a part of my history and the fact that it’s in pieces right now stings.

  I’m going to find out whoever put her up to this. Clearly someone who knew the value of that vase and wanted to fuck with us or me, and that doesn’t sit well, even if it was only a prank.

  Juno doesn’t seem to notice that I’ve come out of my room, so I clear my throat, and she jumps. “So here’s the deal,” I say. “I obviously haven’t talked to anyone about our little arrangement yet, so you won’t have your own room.”

  The look on her face is sheer horror, and I realize that s
he thinks that I’m going to make her sleep in a room with some random Granite House guy. I walk down the hall until I’m closer to her, cause it’s still loud and I don’t feel like shouting all of this. “You can sleep in my room until we get things more settled.”

  The horror on her face turns sharp, and she slaps her hands against my chest and shoves me hard. Immediately I laugh.

  That wasn’t what I meant, but I like that it was what she thought I meant. I get close enough to her to see the flecks of gold in those green eyes. “See, Juno, you thought I meant that we would share a bed. But I only meant that you could have my bed and I would sleep on the floor.”

  “Oh,” she says, a perfect pink blush painting those cheeks. “Okay.”

  That blush makes me lose a little control. My dick has a mind of its own and it wants to push Juno’s boundaries a little to see how far she’ll go. If she’ll still melt for me.

  “Though with that reaction,” I say, “maybe you want to share a bed with me after all?” I lift one eyebrow, savoring the expression on her face.

  She’s so obviously torn between fury and temptation. For a split second, I’m not sure which will win out. But then, “I don’t,” she snaps. “That’s revolting.”

  “Is it now?” I tilt my head, and bring one hand to her face, cupping her cheek and sliding my hand down to her neck. I can feel her pulse fluttering under my fingers and her chest moves faster as she breathes. With how close I am, I have an excellent view of her perky little tits heaving, and I have to cement my hand to her skin to keep it where it is and not slide it down to feel her.

  “It is revolting.” Her dark eyes flash with defiance. “I’d never sleep with someone like you.”

  I grin down at her. “You’ve got a lot of mouth on you for someone who’s now a pet.”

  “I’m not a pet.”

  “You are,” I tell her. “You’re my pet. And I wonder if my pet liked the way I kissed her earlier. And I wonder if she wants me to do it again.”

  Her eyes are pure fire. “Fuck off. I didn’t like that. I was grateful you saved me from that asshole and that was it.” But those same eyes are wide and dark, pupils wide with need. Her heart is beating so fast I imagine that it’s pounding in her ears.

  “Your pulse tells me that you’re lying,” I tell her. “And let me be clear. You don’t sleep with someone like me. Once you say yes you get fucked until you scream. You are taken and pleasured until you can’t take anymore, and then you still get more. Being with me would never be described by such a mundane phrase as ‘sleeping with.’”

  She looks at me, and then suddenly steps backwards. “Keep your fucking bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  I can’t help but watch her walk away in that dress, legs seeming a mile long coming out of the short skirt. But it’s so much more than that skirt. I’ve never had any woman walk away after that kind of promise or description. I know what I look like, and I know damn well what I’m capable of in bed. I don’t ever get turned down.

  Juno is different, and I like that.

  I like it even more that I can get under her skin and make her squirm. I need to see more of that blush and find out what pushes her buttons. I want to know more about what makes her tick and why she would take this stupid dare when she seems so serious.

  She glances at me as she enters my room, and I’m struck with a déjà vu. I thought that she had looked familiar when she walked into the poker room downstairs, but that look that she just gave me…I’ve seen it before. I just can’t remember where.

  I follow her into my room and grin when I see that she’s kicked off her high heels, grabbed my extra blanket and pillow and is in the process of making herself a nest in the corner—the corner that is as far from my bed as is physically possible in the space.

  Oh, this is going to be fun.

  Juno isn’t like any girl that I’ve ever met here, and she’s mine. I wasn’t very excited about school this year, but I am now. This year is going to be special.

  I can’t fucking wait.

  4

  Juno

  I almost didn’t take the extra fluffy blanket that Malcolm tossed to me in addition to the thin quilt that I stole from his bed, but I do actually need to get some sleep, and this will make far better padding than the blanket I took.

  But I don’t say thank you. I don’t acknowledge him at all. I don’t want him to know that he has any kind of effect on me even though he does.

  The way that he touched me in the hallway, daring to suggest that I would enjoy being with him…it was true. And I hate that he was right. I hate the idea that now that I’ve agreed to live here and do his bidding that he thinks he can just have me. I will prove him wrong.

  Malcolm’s already made it clear that he will never force anyone, but if he’d kept touching me, and describing how it would be if he took me to bed, I couldn’t have resisted much longer.

  I set my alarm for early so that I can go get clothes before my class, and close my eyes. Sleep. That’s the goal. That’s what I need. But Malcolm doesn’t seem to have the same goal.

  The corner I set up my bed in is next to a mirror on the wall, and I can see him moving around when I open my eyes briefly, doing things. He’s at his desk looking over some papers, stacking books and putting them in a backpack.

  It’s somehow easy to tune out the pounding bass from downstairs and the general white noise of the ongoing party, but every sound that Malcolm makes feels like it’s amplified directly into my ear. Like I’m attuned to him in a way that I can’t avoid.

  When he’s done with whatever he’s doing on his desk, he types on his phone, the little keyboard making those sounds that are usually muted. And then he moves to the closet. I try to ignore him, but the rustle of fabric and the shriek of hangers sliding is too much. I’m never going to be able to sleep like this.

  “Do you really have to do all of that?” I ask him. “Right now?”

  In the mirror I see him smirk. “Yes, Juno. Yes I do. This is my room, and just because you happen to be in it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to keep to my routine. Every part of my routine.”

  He’s smiling when he leaves the room, and I’m assuming he went to the bathroom. God, what have I gotten myself into? It seems like Malcolm knows exactly how to push my buttons and we’ve only known each other for a couple of hours. This is going to be a very long year. But at least, hopefully, I won’t be sleeping on his floor the whole time.

  Maybe I can get to sleep before he comes back. I close my eyes and let myself drift, but I’m not that lucky. The door opens and reveals Malcolm in nothing but soft gray sweatpants. I can see him in the mirror, and shock runs down my spine.

  Every inch of him is just as hard as the forearms that I saw earlier. In the dim light of the lamp, his abs are cast in sharp relief. The pants are slung low on his hips, showing off the sexy V that leads to a cock that I can’t see but is clearly hard, bulging against his sweats, the outline fully visible even through the fabric.

  And he is huge.

  My eyes won’t stop tracing him up and down in the reflection, just the way he kept looking at me. The blush that paints my face is entirely unwelcome. I can’t react to him like this. I shouldn’t. He’s forcing me into an absolutely impossible position and I shouldn’t be wondering what it would feel like to run my tongue over the ridges of his pecs and abs and nipples that I can see are hard from here.

  Suddenly I realize that he’s watching me in the mirror. Shit. He knows that I was checking him out. The smirk on his face just makes me blush harder. I brace myself for a sharp comeback, some comment about me not being able to resist him for even one night. If he said something right now, if he made a move… I don’t know that I could deny him again. But, “Goodnight, Juno,” is all he says, in a voice filled with suppressed amusement.

  “Goodnight,” I murmur quietly, my voice muffled by the blanket.

  He doesn’t turn off the light as he lays down on the bed, completely on top of t
he covers. That’s odd, but I try to close my eyes, because I shouldn’t be watching him anyway. Maybe he’s going to read or something before he goes to sleep. I close my eyes, ignoring the shuffle of fabric.

  There’s a sound that I can’t identify, and another one, and then Malcolm groans. Not the kind of groan that’s settling in for sleep. My eyes fly open, and in the mirror I can see Malcolm stroking himself. Those sweatpants are pulled down around his hips, and his cock is on full display.

  Oh, fuck.

  I was right. He is huge, hard and spearing towards the sky, slightly curving back toward him. I watch his hand move, the veins on his forearm standing out, his cock so hard and thick it’s practically pulsating between his fingers.

  This is what he meant when he said every part of his routine. He’s going to masturbate with me in the room.

  Heat flows down my body, and I realize that the sight of him is making me wet. I’m not a virgin, but I’ve never fucked anyone like him. The sex I had was fumbling, sweaty, and messy, and didn’t exactly make me want to partake in more.

  Malcolm was right. I’ve only ever slept with guys, and a couple at that. I’ve never been fucked. Not like he would.

  My hand between my legs has always been infinitely more satisfying than the men I’ve been with.

  But that? That I want. Malcolm’s words come echoing back to me. You don’t sleep with someone like me. Once you say yes you get fucked until you scream. You are taken and pleasured until you can’t take anymore, and then you still get more. Now, watching him, I don’t doubt it. That body looks like it was made to give pleasure, and I shiver, wanting it. Thinking about what it would feel like to have his warm, strong hands on me again, his mouth over mine, his cock, that cock, pressing into me.

  My pussy clenches almost involuntarily, and I know I must be soaked right now, just from the thought. My clit practically aches between my thighs, begging for release.