Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Looks like someone’s part of the itty-bitty titty committee,” one guy at the table jokes.
Kingsley rips his attention away from me long enough to glare at the moron who made the comment. “Shut the fuck up and don’t look at her!”
The table falls silent as a thick shudder slides through me.
Please don’t tell me it’s arousal.
Please don’t...
A dull ache throbs to life in my pussy. Unconsciously I shift on his thighs, but there’s no relief to be found.
“Stop that,” he grumbles in my ear, “before I finger fuck you in front of everyone.”
Even though his words are meant for me alone, heat rushes to my cheeks.
“Tell me again how much you hate me,” he urges, fingers digging into my waist.
“I hate you,” I oblige, but the vehemence is noticeably absent.
“I don’t think you do.” His gaze stays fastened to mine. “Now feed me lunch.”
I grab a fry from his plate and hold it to his lips. When he opens, I press the slim length of potato into his mouth. A reluctant thrill shoots through me when he nibbles at my fingers. It takes effort to bite back the husky moan that threatens to escape as I repeat the process. I don’t want to admit how mesmerized I am by what we’re doing. As I hold the burger to his mouth, he takes a bite. One of his hands stays wrapped around my waist while the other drops to my thigh.
It doesn’t take long before my attention is focused on the feel of his palm pressed against my skin until it’s all I’m cognizant of. His fingers glide over my bare flesh with lazy strokes from the edge of my navy sock to the hem of my skirt that rides up my thigh. With every pass, his caress stretches further up my leg. I break eye contact and glance at the guys filling the table, but no one pays us any attention. They’re too busy discussing the upcoming scrimmage next weekend.
“So which is it?” Humor simmers in Kingsley’s voice. “Worried I’ll make good on my threat or wishing that I would?”
Good question.
I feed him a slice of orange from the tray. “Neither. I’m wondering how long I have to keep this up.” It’s not a lie. I’m just not sure if I’m counting down the minutes until I can escape his insufferable presence or if I’m enjoying the feel of his fingers.
He studies my face as if he’s able to pick through my most intimate thoughts by simply reading my expression. “I think you’re lying.” There’s a pause as his hand slides toward the apex of my thighs. “Should I discover the answer for myself?”
“Please don’t.” I pop another slice of fruit into his mouth. My fingers tingle as he licks at them.
“Then tell me the truth,” he demands. “Are you wet?”
I bite my lip and glance away.
Isn’t my silence answer enough?
“Look at me, Summer.” The gruffness of his tone strums something deep inside me that I wasn’t aware existed. I’m frightened by the discovery and don’t know how to make it go away.
My gaze snaps to his. “Yes.” I can’t take the chance he’ll find out firsthand. I wouldn’t put it past him to do it either. The normal rules of society don’t apply to Kingsley Rothchild. It’s intoxicating and disturbing all at the same time.
Fire ignites in his eyes.
When the bell rings, I huff out a relieved breath and hop off his lap without waiting for permission. As I do, my gaze collides with angry blue eyes.
Sloane.
We stare at each other before she whispers something to the brunette who I recognize as her trusty sidekick. Both smirk as their attention returns to me. That girl is going to be trouble. And by that I mean, more of a hassle than she’s already been.
As far as Sloane is concerned, Kingsley has painted a big red bullseye on my back with his interest. And that’s exactly what I don’t need.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As soon as the last bell rings, I rush to my locker and grab my backpack, along with the white uniform blouse that hangs from the hook inside. I beeline to the bathroom and lock myself in a stall before stripping off the stupid shirt Kingsley forced me to wear.
He still hasn’t returned my bra. What does he plan to do? Steal them every day? After a week, I’ll run out. Not that he would care.
It’s a relief when I slip the last button through the hole and tuck the hem of my shirt into my skirt before sliding my arms into the blazer. I’ve never been so happy in my life to wear a school uniform.
Thank God this horrific day is over, and I can finally get the hell out of here.
No more Kingsley.
With my backpack hoisted over my shoulder, I push out of the bathroom and into the crowded hallway. Students linger in small clusters, chatting and laughing. No one pays me any attention. A look here and there, but nothing more than that.