“You know what,” he leaned even closer to my mouth. “You brought that boy in there to his fucking death.”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I fought to roll my eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic,” I waved a hand dismissively, not breaking eye contact. “We both know you’re not going to hurt him.” That was kind of a lie. I’d never seen Elden like this, so … unhinged. I had no idea what he was going to do. “You’re far too controlled for that. And if you did anything to him, you’d have to explain yourself. And you’d never do that.” It was both a challenge and a statement.
Most of me didn’t want Elden to do anything to Bennett, whose only crime was not seeing how messed up and uninterested I truly was. I definitely didn’t want the club as a whole to have to deal with any kind of violence or drama on a holiday that was already difficult for them.
But a tiny, ugly, unwelcome part of me wanted him to do it. Fight for me. Tear this fucking place apart for me. Because in this world, that would serve as a declaration that I was his. We wouldn’t be some fucked-up secret anymore.
Elden didn’t break his furious stare, the air still thick around us. His mouth was inches from mine. My chest tingled under the weight of his palm. My body longed for more.
Elden didn’t move. He didn’t storm down the hall to make good on his promise.
Which was a good thing. A wonderful thing. An innocent boy wasn’t going to get the shit beaten out of him, and this holiday would not be ruined.
Yet that ugly part of me was disappointed, it was hurt, and it wanted to strike out. Draw blood.
“What do you care who I fuck anyway?” I shot out, my words barbed, sharp.
Elden went stock still, but I wasn’t done.
“I simply did what you asked the last time I was in this room.” I looked around his neat bedroom, remembering those biting wounds and the wounds from them that had refused to heal. “I found someone who is impressed by me,” I parroted the hot, poisonous and hurtful words.
“You’re fuckin’ him?” he murmured, voice soft. Or as soft as a blade could be.
My body froze on instinct, out of some kind of default response when faced with someone deadly.
Though I was scared, turned on and about a million other things, I was also satisfied. I’d made an impact. Evoked a reaction out of him.
I kept my lips pursed shut.
His eyes seared into me with icy blue fury. “He touched you, Violet?” His hand roamed from the center of my chest, skimming down my stomach and slipping under my sweater.
My breath fractured as his calloused fingers ran over the skin of my stomach.
I didn’t answer his question. Couldn’t. All of my effort was going toward breathing, standing, keeping eye contact with him as his fingers brushed my nipples.
“If he has laid a hand on this perfect fucking skin, I will bury him so deep that even the worms won’t be able to find him,” Elden rasped, leaning forward so his lips barely brushed mine.
“Why w-would you?” I stuttered against his mouth. “What does it matter if he fucked me or not? What does it matter if I’ve fucked ten boys in college? It’s my right.”
I was baiting him when he was already furious. It was somewhat dangerous and irresponsible, but it also made everything inside me glow brighter.
His hand found my nipple, tweaking just to the point of pain.
My pussy flexed, and I let out a moan that had nothing to do with pain.
Elden’s other hand pushed under my skirt, brushing up my thigh until he found the thin lace of my panties.
He let out a low hiss, and his gaze turned feral. “It may be your right,” he agreed, fingers slipping in, parting where I was soaking wet for him.
My back pressed against the wall as I struggled against the stars I saw as he found my clit.
“But it will mean I’m gonna have to fuck you for hours to remove any memory of a boy who’s been inside what’s mine,” he growled, fingers plunging inside of me without warning.
His palm found my mouth just as I let out a loud moan.
Though we were at the end of the hall, you could still hear the party going on in the common room, the music, the muffled voices.
Elden’s fingers paused inside of me, not moving as I ached for them to do. But maybe it was good because if he’d moved then, I would’ve exploded and likely lost the ability to stand.