Bloody Princess by Helen Scott

22

Atlas

I should have known that Keats was up to no good with this dance off bullshit. When “Candy Shop” comes on, it takes Lyric a minute, but then she starts moving, and all my thoughts go flying from my head. Her body looks almost boneless as she moves across the floor. Dave, our pledge in the dance off, is next to her looking like a fucking idiot. I think the only thing he knows how to do with his hips is thrust, whereas Lyric is teaching a masterclass on movement.

Is this what Keats is hoping for? I've seen the way he looks at her. It's unusual for him to hold back. When he wants a girl, it's generally for a quick fuck, and then he moves on. But he looks at Lyric like he wants to consume her, and if I'm honest with myself, I understand. She's like a fucking drug that's gotten into my system, and now I can't kick the habit. I want to be around her, to feel her looking at me with those big doe eyes of hers. Fuck, if I could touch her, feel her against me...No. I can't. I need to stop thinking about her like that.

Lyric's fingertips skate along her skin as she raises one hand over her head and runs the other down her arm, like she's mimicking the touch she wants to receive. One of her legs juts out, and her hips circle to the beat in a way that has me as hard as a fucking rock in my pants. No straight man could watch her move like that and not imagine her doing it while she’s riding his cock. I know I should turn away, should remove the temptation from my line of sight, but I just can't. Watching her, I feel like I'm made of stone and frozen in place.

The song merges into the next one on the playlist, and most of us are too captivated by Lyric to stop the music. It's only when Paige steps in and loudly clears her throat that I realize we are supposed to judge the dance off. I know who won—everyone does. The music cuts out, and Lyric comes to a graceful stop, which I'm both sad and grateful for.

"Loudest cheer wins, ready?" Keats calls over the chatter of everyone else who is standing around watching. The group quiets a bit before Keats says, "Dave!" A small cheer goes up from the rest of his pledge class and a couple of the Pi Eps, but it sounds half hearted and, if I had to bet, I'd say that the only reason his pledge brothers are cheering is because they don't want to clean the house. "Lyric!" The rest of my frat brothers roar so loudly that it probably shakes the windows. I can't help but join in. "Pi Eps, you're our winners! APT pledges, you get to clean house tomorrow morning. Enjoy!" Keats' voice rings out as the music starts back up, along with a groan from our pledges.

The sigh of relief from the Pi Ep pledges is almost a visible thing. I don't blame them since I know the house is going to be disgusting by the morning. Matt and Rick, the guys actually renting this house, will let loose now that they know someone else is doing the cleaning, and I'm sure it'll be filthy. Plus, since it's our pledges that are cleaning, they can have them clean however they want in the morning. I've seen them demand that the floors be scrubbed with toothbrushes before, or not give the pledges any supplies, instead forcing them to use their clothes and whatever else they can find to clean up. It's no surprise that the pledges groaned when they realized they'd lost. They know what they’re in for in the morning. The two guys wouldn't have been quite so cruel to the Pi Ep pledges, but it wouldn't have been easy to clean either, so their relief is understood.

Lyric basically carried the Pi Ep team, though, and I'm honestly a little worried about how much she drank. Of course, not all the shots were alcohol—we aren't trying to kill our pledges—but with the amount of beer she chugged during her keg stand, which was impressive, then the shots, she should be about ready to drop. I can't help but want to get her home before the booze encourages her to make dumb decisions.

The crowd almost instantly crushes back in on the dance floor, and I have to shove my way over to Lyric, who has moved to the side of the room and is bracing herself against the wall. The room is probably fucking spinning for her at this point. I'm not the kind of guy to let a girl get taken advantage of if I can help it, so I've resolved to get Lyric home, where she'll be safe from drunken mistakes and groping hands.

I'm no knight in shining armor—there's blood on my hands, just like there is on Jude’s, Keats’, and Thayer's—but that doesn't mean I'll stand by and let an innocent girl screw up her life. I have no right to Lyric, none of us do, but we all want to protect her in our own ways, even if Jude can't admit it yet.

By the time I get close enough, one of the APT brothers I want to kick the shit out of is there and clearly hitting on her. His hand is positioned on the wall over Lyric's head, and she has no way to get away from him. "Maybe you can be my little lamb this semester, hm? Would you like that?" Jayden asks. A chill goes through me. No way in hell is she going to be his lamb. That isn't something I'll tolerate.

She looks confused, which of course she is, she has no idea what's coming in terms of her hazing, but I do. I push forward, and when my hand lands on Jayden's shoulder, he spins, intending to yell at whoever is interrupting him. When he sees it's me, he just drops his hand from the wall and walks away. At least the idea that the most influential, active members of APT don't want Lyric to be fucked with is getting through their heads. I don't like the fact that he thought he could get away with it because we weren't looking, though.

"Hey, you okay?" I ask, once I'm finally close enough.

She gives me a smile, and I realize she's more relaxed than I think I've ever seen her. I think I just never knew she was tense before. "Yeah, I'm good," she says, though her words aren't as crisp as they usually are, which is understandable.

"I think we should get you some water and get you home," I reply as I block people from pushing against her while they dance.

"Dance with me first," she says, her voice breathy and her eyes hooded.

"You don't want to dance with me, I have no rhythm. Let me walk you back to your dorm." I take her hand in mine, intending to pull her through the crowd, but something else happens instead. She twines her fingers through mine and pulls our hands up to look at them as though they are some kind of strange, foreign object she's never seen before. She brings her other hand up and touches my fingers one after the other, missing her own fingers.

"Your hands are calloused like mine," she says quietly.

I hadn't even noticed, if I'm being honest. As soon as she says it, though, I can feel the skin of her palms is tough against my own. I look down at our hands and see that her knuckles are scarred—not red like she's just been in a fight, which would be weird, but there are definitely scars on her knuckles. They are probably only noticeable if you know what to look for. I've been in enough fights, done enough work for my parents and the Regents, that I know what scars someone is likely to have from pounding their knuckles into something over and over again. I desperately want to ask her about it. Want to know what caused these marks.

Lyssa's hands were flawless, the hands of a rich woman who'd never done any manual labor in her life and probably got a manicure on a weekly basis. Lyric's hands are the opposite, even though they don't look it at first glance. She might have regular manicures for all I know, but all the lotion and massages in the world can only do so much.

"Will you take me home," she says suddenly, sounding so fucking sad it makes my chest clench.

I nod and squeeze her hand as I lead her through the crowd. We walk along in silence, and though she stumbles sometimes, it's not as bad as some girls when they've had half as much to drink as she has.

We arrive at one of the side doors of South Hall a moment later, and I can't remember having a more pleasant walk in the last couple of years. Lyric brings the same kind of peace with her that Lyssa did, only there's something deeper and more complex about it. It's not just that I'm comfortable with her, like I was with Lyssa. There's something else that I can't explain there as well.

"You okay to get to your room?" I ask.

She turns to me, and I can't help but look down into those stormy eyes of hers. The temptation to lean in is almost too much. How is she so beautiful with this stupid seventies jumpsuit on and her hair all fanned out like an old school Charlie's Angel? I took the easy way out and went with a nineties grunge look, but I know most of the pledges weren’t so fortunate. They never get to choose.

In one fluid move, she reaches up and grabs the side of the open plaid shirt, pulling me to her. Our lips crash against one another as she kisses me. I freeze for a moment, surprised by the move, but then I kiss her back. I know I shouldn't, I know that, but...I can't pull away, either. The last thing I want is for her to be doing this just because she's drunk and horny. I can’t separate from her just yet, though, not as her plush lips move against mine and her tongue flicks against my lower lip.

Something within me comes roaring to life, and I drop the hand I was still holding and crush her to me, wrapping one hand around the back of her neck and my other arm around her waist as I walk us back toward the stone wall of the dorm. I don't want it to hurt her, but I can't seem to control myself, either.

We're devouring each other like there's no way to breathe if we're not kissing each other. The tang of whiskey is still on her lips and tongue, and it only makes the sweetness underneath stand out even more. She's like sour candy, and I can't get enough.

One of her legs hooks around my hips, and I grab her by the ass and haul her up to where she wants to be before pinning her to the wall, though I keep hold of her ass—you know, in case she falls or something. Also because it's firm and soft, and I want to see it bounce as I fuck her.

"Atlas," she moans when our lips break apart for a moment. Hearing her say my name as she rolls her hips against me is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

Her breathy voice almost undoes me, and I realize I've been more pent up than I thought. The idea of stripping that jump suit off her and fucking her right here runs through my mind as I grind my cock against her hot core. Every fiber of my being wants to be with her.

"Come upstairs. My roommate is probably out," she breathes in my ear as I kiss her neck, inhaling the dark musky scent of her—one that reminds me of forbidden fruit.

When I pull back and see her lips all puffy from our kisses, I almost say yes. Something about her words breaks the spell, l though, and I find myself setting her on her feet and stepping away, though I swear my cock pulls toward her like a fucking magnet.

"That was a mistake. I'm sorry, Lyric, but I should go." The words that come out of my mouth aren't exactly what I mean, but I know if I don't get out of there as fast as I can, I'll take her back to her room and fuck her, whether her roommate is there or not. I may be over the fact that she's Lyssa's little sister, but that doesn't mean I'll be able to fuck her and walk away the way I need to. It's not like I can have a girlfriend, or even include someone in my life in more than a simple way. It's why I only ever have one night stands.

"Oookay," she replies, drawing out the word. "Your loss, big guy. Don't worry, I can take care of myself." She wiggles her fingers at me and turns, disappearing inside the building.

I stand there for a moment, staring at the closed door, willing myself to walk away while my cock throbs in my pants, demanding release. Blue balls are fine with me. Lyric is more important. With that thought, I turn on my heel, but instead of going back to the party like I'd originally intended, I head back to the APT house.

Could I get one of the Pi Eps to suck and fuck me? To relieve some of this tension? Absolutely. But they aren't who I want.

Once I’m back, I race upstairs. The last thing I want to deal with is my frat brothers giving me shit over my hard on, which is still very much present and requiring attention. As soon as I'm in my room with the door closed, I pull the torn jeans off, along with my boxers, and lie down.

My hand immediately finds my cock, and I don't even bother to grab any lotion. I know exactly how to touch myself, and my mind fills with images of Lyric dancing and the way she looked when I pulled away, her eyes hooded and her lips swollen. I wonder how wet she was for me. If I'd been able to reach through that stupid jumpsuit then, would I have been able to feel it through her panties? Would I have been able to slide my cock right in? I want to think so, with the way she was breathing and the way her heart was hammering in her chest. I want to think that she was just as turned on as I was.

Just thinking about how her ass spilled from my hands as I grabbed her almost finishes me. There is plenty there for spanking, and plenty to cushion me going as hard as I possibly can fucking her. In my mind, when I let her down from our kiss, I don’t walk away. Instead, I strip the jumpsuit from her curvy body and pull the bra containing her gorgeous breasts down, letting the girls spill free, like they had been after her keg stand. I'd been able to see her nipples pressing against the material covering her chest, and when she'd scooped them back into her bra, it had been a damn shame. My mouth had literally watered at the sight of them pushing against the material.

If I'd stripped her down outside the way I’d really wanted to, I'd be sucking on those perfect nipples right now as I slid my fingers deep in her pussy. When she was done fucking herself on my hand, I'd replace it with my cock and have her pinned against the stone as I rammed into her over and over again until she was panting my name, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Once I'd made her come on my cock, I'd pull out and let her taste her own pleasure as she sucked me off and I came down her throat.

In an ideal world, I'd be able to get hard again immediately, and then I'd have her ride me the same way she'd been dancing earlier until I exploded inside her. That does it, and I find my cock pulsing as my orgasm rushes through me, making a mess of the t-shirt I hadn't bothered to take off. That’s not enough, though. Even though I'm mostly relaxed now, my cock is still hard in my grip, and Lyric is still dancing in my mind.

This time I do reach for some lotion. No use rubbing myself raw. I don't know how many times I'm going to have to make myself come before my cock finally gives up and realizes that it can never feel the hot velvet of Lyric's pussy wrapped around it.

I have no idea how I'm going to deal with the repercussions of our kiss tonight, but for right now, I don't care. I'll just keep imagining that I've taken her up on her offer and that, instead of being in my bed, alone, I'm balls deep in one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen, knowing the whole time that it can never happen in reality. No matter how badly I wish it was otherwise.