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“Whoa,” I murmur out loud.
Lotta startles at the sound of my voice. The windows are cracked for ventilation, and she whirls.
“Asher.”
I could live my whole life and not forget the sweetness of hearing her say my name. The breathless syllables seem to convey both thrill and nerves at finding me under the window.
She sets her paintbrush down. “I’ll let you in.”
I memorize those words, too, feeling there’s a metaphor in them. I don’t stop to questionwhyI want her to let me in emotionally, when my heart is so firmly closed to her.
She’s my mate. That’s explanation enough.
I stay in the shadow of the building as I skirt around to the doors.
Lotta’s breathless when she opens them. Her feet are bare, and there’s a smear of paint on her wrist. Her honey-sweet scent assaults me, nearly making me drop to my knees to shove up that skirt of hers and press my tongue where she needs it most.
Instead, I pick her up, my forearm tucking under her ass to lift her hips above mine, so she’s straddling my waist. I carry her down the hallway to the art room. “Yournever at schoolrule’s gonna get broken tonight,” I growl.
“Oh.”
No protest. She wants it, too.
“If you make me stalk you, I’m gonna eat what I catch.”
“Mm.” Her legs tighten around my waist, the scent of her arousal driving me mad. “I lost track of time,” she says, squirming in my arms.
I absolutely love that she thinks she owes me an explanation. That she understands her tight little body belongs to me.
Idointend to own it in every way possible.
I slide a hand up under her shirt as I walk, my thumb slipping under her bra to strum her nipple.
She squeezes her legs again, and her butt muscles tighten with her excitement.
I take her into the art studio, straight to the table where I sit. The way she has the room sectioned off with her paintings, no one looking in from the outside would be able to see us, even with the lights on as they are.
“Asher.” That breathless intonation again.
She’s driving me insane. I sit her ass down at the edge of the table and pull her knees up. She drops back to her forearms, eyes glowing an electric blue.
“Wearing these little skirts to school is gonna get you fucked,” I warn. “Hard.” I tug her panties too hard, and the delicate satin and lace tear in half.
“Hey,” she protests, but I’m not having any rebuke from her.
I lick my middle three fingers and slap her pussy with them.
Her eyes widen.
“That’s right.” I push her knees toward her shoulders. She lies back, abandoning her perch on her forearms. “This pussy is getting spanked tonight.”
“Wh-wh…” Her lips work to form words, but she’s apparently unable to complete them. I don’t know whether she was trying to askwhyorwhat,but it doesn’t matter. I answer with another spank. I cradle my hand under one of her knees to hold it wide and start spanking her beautiful pussy with my three fingers.
Obviously, there’s no power behind the spanks. They don’t hurt her. But she’s startled by the sensation, and it gets her turned on fast. I slap her clit, getting it to swell and protrude. Her arousal drips down onto the table.
I’ll be thinking about that in every class until graduation, guaranteed.
“This is what happens when you get me blue-balled.” I deliver quick, light taps to her folds. She pants and mewls, her inner thighs starting to quake.
