The Dean by Cassie Mint
Eight
Charlotte
Iget home late. I’m being kind of an ass, avoiding the house like this, but I don’t want to ruin the fragile peace my father and I made over the phone. He may have gotten one of James’ lectures, may be trying harder, but I don’t want to tempt fate.
It was good. A nice conversation.
Let’s leave it there.
Paige, Avery and Leona were more than happy to take me in, ushering me into their apartment with open arms. They fed me, made me hot chocolate, even made me watch a cheesy 90s Rom Com. As night fell, I was sorry to leave, trudging back onto the cold, wet street.
I had to come back, though. There’s something… restless in me. A nervous, crackling energy shifting under my skin. Since my father got here, I’ve barely looked at James. Couldn’t bear to see that guilt and regret in his eyes.
He’s looked at me, though. I’ve felt the heavy weight of his eyes on me; the caress of his intense gaze running down my body.
I need to feel that again. I’m addicted, never mind the risks. So when I push the front door open, welcomed back into the warm glow of home, I don’t scurry upstairs this time. I follow the sounds of low voices, the burst of my father’s laughter, into the living room.
My father and James are on the sofa, two glasses of scotch on the coffee table. Truffle is on the rug, attacking my dad’s shoelaces, and I’m glad to see at least someone is on my side.
“Hello,” I murmur, shrugging off my coat. Two pairs of eyes turn to me—one sharp and one bleary.
“Charlotte!” Dad’s voice is thick. He’s must be deeper into the scotch than James. His friend watches me, sober and calculating, and there’s something predatory in his gaze that makes my tummy flutter. “Did you get lost?”
“Nope.” I bend down and scoop up my kitten, checking her over. She seems plump and happy, purring as I rub her against my cheek. “I went to a friend’s.”
“A boyfriend’s?” Dad grins, waving a hand at the stony man beside him. “You’ll have to keep an eye on her, James.”
“I will.” The low promise makes my toes curl in my boots. I risk a glance at James and find him staring at me openly, stark hunger and frustration sharpening his features.
“I’m, um. I’m going to bed,” I whisper. Forget socializing. If I spend another minute here with him looking at me like that, I’ll crawl into his lap and beg for a kiss, never mind that my father is right there.
“Sleep well,” James says quietly. Dad misses it, already chattering about his meeting, but the way James says those words… it’s clear he means something completely different. I swallow hard, my heart beating as fast as my tiny kitten’s.
“Goodnight.”
I flee upstairs, away from the thick tension crowding the air. Truffle squeaks, annoyed to be swept away so early, so I put her down and watch her bounce back down the stairs.
She’s braver than me. Or more foolish. Either way, I dart inside my room and slam the door, heart slamming inside my chest.
* * *This house is a classic build. Sturdy and powerful, just like James. But an older house comes with odd noises sometimes—the groan of settling floorboards. The rattle of a window blind.
I lay in bed, my skin heated beneath my borrowed t-shirt, my arms tossed over my head on the pillow. I listen to the gentle chorus of the house—the patter of tiny paws as Truffle runs riot in the living room; the muffled snores of my father on the sofa. The wind whistles against my bedroom window, the shadows of tree branches waving on the ceiling, and still he doesn’t come.
Will he come at all?
Maybe he’ll wait. Maybe that’s all this will ever be—a dirty little secret between us, kept out of sight and out of mind. Perhaps he’ll wait until my father is safely states away, and he can creep into my room without fear of being caught.
A footstep creaks on the landing outside my door. I hold my breath, straining to hear over the blood roaring in my ears.
The door handle turns slowly. It swings open on silent hinges. And James stands in the doorway, watching me, the moonlight casting his face half in shadow.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he murmurs. His voice is so deep, so velvety, that I shift on the mattress.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I whisper back, hoping he hears the invitation. The way I’m begging him to stay without saying the words. But something must finally be going my way, because James steps inside my bedroom and closes the door gently behind him.
“We’ll have to be quiet,” he warns.
“When we do what?” I grin, sitting up.
“Charlotte.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay. My dad never has to know, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice, the harsh edge. And James strides straight to the bed, lowering to sit beside my hip. He cups the side of my face, running his thumb over my cheek, and he sounds wrecked when he says, “Is that what you think? That I want to keep you secret?”
I nod, keeping my face carefully blank. Staring at a safe spot on his chest. He’s wearing sweatpants and his black cotton t-shirt again, and they fit him so well it shouldn’t be legal.
It’s not fair. Couldn’t he have a hump or something? Some kind of flaw, like the rest of us mere mortals?
“Charlotte. Look at me.” I don’t raise my eyes until he shakes me gently, and when I do, he traps me in his gaze. “You’re not a secret. You’re a gift—the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I count myself lucky to have touched you at all.” I swallow the lump in my throat, suddenly speechless, but he keeps going, his words urgent. “I don’t want things to be messy so soon. I want it to be simple for a little while longer. But if you’d rather, I’ll go downstairs right now and wake Parker up. Tell him you’re mine.”
I’m his. Maybe it’s soon for him to declare that, but it feels so right. It sings through my body; gives my heart wings.
My fingers wind in his t-shirt while he’s speaking, anchoring me to this man. To this moment. And as soon as he stops to draw breath, I shake my head.
“No. Don’t—don’t do that. You’re right. Let’s keep it a secret a little while longer.”
Because there’s something else unsaid here. An electrifying thrill that comes from sneaking around—from the risk of getting caught together. And James must feel it too, because a growl rumbles in his chest as he crushes me close and kisses me. Hard. He slants his mouth over mine and devours me, taking me with every ounce of the possessiveness he’s been holding back.
The slide of his tongue between my lips makes me whimper. I crawl closer, climbing into his lap like I wanted to downstairs, rocking the seam of my shorts against his hard length.
“Charlotte.” He breaks off, breathing hard into my hair. I run my palm over the toned muscles of his heaving chest, marveling at the way I affect him. The way we affect each other. “Tell me, sweetheart. How far do you want this to go?”
“All the way.”
He growls, a tendon standing out on his neck. I run a fingertip along it, then scratch at his beard.
“Think carefully,” he grits out, his hands tight on my legs. “Once I get between these thighs…” He trails off, and I want to grab his handsome head and shake him. Force him to spell out exactly what he’s going to do to me.
But the details don’t matter.
“I’m sure.” I wind my arms around his neck. Lean back in his embrace and roll my hips against his, drawing a ragged groan from between his gritted teeth. “I want it. I want you.” I swallow hard and lay all my cards on the table. Show him the dark desires that are shifting under my skin. “I can be quiet,” I whisper. “My father never has to know.”
James’ eyes slam shut. He draws in a shuddering breath, then cups my elbow with one hand. His warm, dry palm slides up my arm, over my shoulder, up the side of my neck. He draws a line up the side of my body, and when he reaches the side of my face, he pauses, indecision creasing his brow.
I turn my head and kiss his palm. Give him the permission he needs. And all the air leaves his chest in a rush as James seals his hand over my mouth.
“Lie back.”
I flop down on the mattress beside him, my limbs too jelly-like to be graceful. I do as he says, my eyes growing wide as he prowls on top of me, his big body trapping me against the bed, his broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight. My breath comes quick against his hand, but still he doesn’t take it away. Instead, he reaches down between us and wrenches my shorts down my thighs.
“Soaked,” he grits out, so damn satisfied. His fingers delve along my core, so proprietary, spreading the moisture gathering there. The truth is, I’ve been aching all day. Wanting him so badly from just outside his office. And now that he’s touching me with those sure, firm hands, now that he’s pinning me, blocking all sound from my mouth—
My hips rock up, urging him on. And James laughs darkly, lowering onto his elbow and trapping me even more.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll give you what you need. I’ll make you scream into my hand.”
I pant harder, squirming, thrusting up into his touch, and he doesn’t disappoint. He plunges two fingers inside me, filling me up and making my eyes roll back in my head.
“There you are. That’s it, sweetheart.” He croons to me, showering me in filthy praise as he takes me apart with his hand. His thumb finds my clit, teasing the bundle of nerves; his knuckles rub against my inner walls. He’s stretching me, stroking me, surrounding me with his scent and his deep voice, and when I cry out, my hips lifting, my hoarse voice is muffled by his palm.
James waits for me to slump against the mattress. For me to lie boneless, heart rattling inside my chest. Then he pulls out his fingers slowly, holds my gaze, and licks them clean.
Oh god. I’m already squirming again. And his mouth quirks as he surveys me—a king surveying his subject.
“Delicious,” he rasps, “so fucking sweet. And I’ll lick you one day soon, Charlotte, but not tonight. I can’t trust you to keep quiet, can I?”
I shake my head blearily. No. He can’t trust me to do that. Not when the lightest stroke of his hands on my body makes me want to howl at the ceiling.
“That’s right.” James shoves my legs wider apart, settling his length against the crook of my thighs. He’s still fully clothed, his sweatpants rasping against my bare skin, and I moan, arching up against him. “You’re too far gone. So fucking needy for it, aren’t you?”
I nod, frantic, gripping his wrist, but not to tug it away. To hold it closer to my face. And James’ shadowed face is etched with savage satisfaction as he reaches between us, pulling his cock free. It lands against my pussy, sawing over the flesh, so heavy and burning hot, and god, I need that in me right now.
“Be quiet,” he clips, and that harsh command sends shivers racing through my body. He’s so tender one minute, so commanding the next, and the contrast makes my head spin. I want all of it—his gentle murmurs and the crack of his hand against my bare skin. The light kisses he drops of my forehead and the rough way he plunders my mouth other times, all teeth and tongue.
The broad head of his cock nudges my entrance. My hips twitch up, swallowing the first inch. And James curses loudly, never mind our little game. Never mind my father sleeping downstairs. He lets out a gravely string of curses, his hand tightening on my mouth, and thrusts deeper inside me.
“Mmph!” I cry out, just like he said I would. The stretch is intense—burning at first, then fading away as he pauses to let me adjust. His hips roll slightly, moving him inside me without pushing forward, and my groan comes from the back of my throat.
“More?” He’s wearing thin. Barely restrained. His dark hair falls over his forehead, and his teeth are bared. I nod, writhing beneath him, trying desperately to help, and he grunts as he thrusts the rest of the way inside.
God. Oh god. This is—it’s too much. It’s too much and it’s not enough, both overwhelming and a tease, and I cry out brokenly against his palm. James hushes me, kissing my closed eyelids as he begins to rock. Rolling his powerful body, riding me into the mattress.
“So fucking perfect.” They’re sweet words, but the way he spits them sounds angry. Moisture pools in my core, my nerves singing at his savagery. This normally calm, controlled man is falling apart. Brought to the brink of his control… by me.
I bite the palm of his hand, sinking my teeth into the flesh. And he inhales sharply, his hips moving faster.
“It’s like that, is it?” My nails rake down his back and he grins at me, teeth pearly in the moonlight. He’s moving faster, harder, rolling his body to hit the spots inside me that draw my moans. And I’m helpless beneath him, trapped in paradise, as he presses his bared teeth against my temple. “I know what you need.”
Crack. His palm print stings against my ass. Crack.
He reaches higher, rucks up my stolen t-shirt, and twists my nipple. The sudden shock of pain sends me higher, my core ratcheting tighter, every nerve in my body singing out for more. I bite down harder on his hand, screaming hoarsely against his palm, and hitch my ankles behind his back.
It’s nothing like when I’ve come before. There’s no sudden clench, and then it’s over. This is a maelstrom, a slow-building storm of sensations that buffets me in its winds. I cling to James, to his wrist, to his back, and spots float before my eyes as I twitch and moan with pleasure.
Sounds fade back in slowly. I’m slumped back against the mattress, my hair wild and my forehead damp. James kneels between my legs, his hand moving on his cock, and as he groans, wet warmth streaks across my bare stomach. I hold my stolen t-shirt out of the way, watching him paint me, hypnotized.
It’s so primal. A man marking his territory.
And I should probably be offended, but honestly, it makes my knees weak. I want him snapping and growling over me.
I feel the same.
“Wait there.” It’s not a command this time. It’s soft, so full of love that my stomach aches. James pulls his sweatpants back up and pads out of my bedroom, returning with a warm, damp cloth in his hand.
He cleans me up with tender hands. Pressing soft kisses to my stomach, my hip bone, my knee. And just when my heart is climbing into my throat, just when I think he’s going to leave me here—
He tosses the cloth into the laundry basket and climbs into bed beside me.
“Get some sleep,” he says gruffly, like he’s embarrassed by his own display of tenderness. He pulls me against his chest, wrapping an arm tight around me.
“But…”
My dad could find us. This is such a risk.
“It doesn’t matter.” He’s firm. “I’m not leaving, Charlotte. Now get some sleep.”
I drift off with his lips against my neck, and his fingertips playing in my hair.
