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“You put something in one place and it magically disappears,” she grumbles again.
I can’t help but laugh at how stern she sounds. It’s as if all my bad moods have vanished, as if I’m ready to make her go crazy again, just for my own pleasure. Just to see a spark of defiance light up in her eyes. The one that makes me want to fuck her so bad. Long and hard.
Finally, she lifts her head and purses her lips when she sees me. I cross my arms on my chest and plunge my glance in hers with calmness. I’m ready to throw a little pique at her, just to shake her up a bit. I love it so much when she talks back to me, like she’s not afraid to blow me off. It’s so new to me. I like that.
But she beats me to it by dropping her bag on the floor after retrieving a hair band and her computer.
“This is really, really not the day to mess with me,” she warns me. “In fact, it’s not even the right week, so either shut up during class or get your little ass out of here, and go sit in your seat.”
I struggle to keep my damn smile from coming back, without success. My lips stretch on their own as I raise my eyebrows. Here we go. I lean toward her, inhale the faint scent of her shampoo.
“Bad night, babe? Are you sexually frustrated, by any chance?”
She mumbles something I don’t understand and ignores me, turning on her laptop without a glance in my direction. “For your information,” she answers without being able to help herself, “my fingers do the job very well. You know what they say, you’re never better served than by yourself.”
I inhale deeply, imagining her giving herself pleasure alone. I see her, sprawled out in the center of my bed, thighs spread for me, masturbating while looking me straight in the eyes. Fuck.
Why does she have such a strong effect on me? Why does my body and mind refuse to move on until I finally get her? Just once.
“It’s because I haven’t served you yet,” I murmur after a minute.
She lets out a little laugh. Mrs. Richards finally enters the lecture hall, her heels clicking quietly on the floor. I pretend to focus on her, but Iris leans toward me, one eyebrow raised.
“The great Tucker Bomley, the leader of the Pack, is offering me his services? What a priceless offer,” she quips.
“I’d say it’s an invaluable offer. And an exclusive one,” I specify by putting my hand on her thigh.
Iris stares at me, but I keep my eyes on the stage in front of us. Her breathing accelerates slightly, exactly what I hoped would happen. She dives into my trap, pull me in it and we both get stuck, one more time.
“And what does this offer include?” she finally whispers.
Hummmmm…oh yes, she really wants me. Maybe even as much as I want her.
I click my pen, once, twice, with my free hand. With my other hand, I squeeze her thigh a little more.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Until then, I’ll let you imagine us devouring each other.”
“This is not what I am doing at all,” she retorts, slapping my hand hard.
I let out a little laugh in response.
Right, babe.
***
Almost two hours later, I’m looking for the little redhead after having a quick lunch with TJ who tries once again to change my mind about the baseball team. But it’s a lost cause. I go to lecture hall C4, where Iris’s cognitive psychology class was held.
How do I know that? I could say that it’s a fucking coincidence that I’m passing by, but the truth is that I’ve just asked Yeleen about it, like a fucking jerk in need. Officially, I have to work on the Mikael Larey case with Iris. Unofficially, I wanted to see her.
I think that until we have sex, the attraction will keep growing. We have to fall for it to go back to the way it was. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll want her again, and again.
The students leave the class that just ended. I wait, leaning casually against the wall, as if I wasn’t expecting her. A small smile comes to me when I see her overtaking everyone else to get out faster, but it disappears quickly when I see a guy trotting behind her.
With a seductive look permanently plastered on his tanned face, his dark eyes, and his hair of the same color that is brushing the collar of his polo shirt, Sanchez tries to catch up with Iris without her even knowing it.
I tilt my head to the side, watching from a distance. Sanchez is a good guy. Since the beginning of the year, he’s shown his desire to join our group. I’ve had the opportunity to talk to him several times. He has the answer for everything, and he’s cool.
But there is no way he is going to get close to my girl.
