“Consider yourself punished,” I joked, moving to get up when he suddenly lunged at me, grabbing my waist and throwing me down on the couch beneath him.
“Nash!” I gasped as he ripped his blindfold off, snatched the can from my grip and gazed down at me menacingly.
I tried to launch myself from the seat, but he caught my arm and wrestled me down into the cushions again, making my heart thunder with adrenaline. His hands on me were the sweetest form of sin. I wanted to commit it again and again.
He tipped the can up, squirting it over my mouth and I laughed, kicking and punching him, but with no real power behind the blows. I licked the cream from my lips, lunging up and grabbing his wrist as I tried to tear the can out of his hand.
He pressed his knee between my thighs and caught one of my wrists, slamming it down onto the cushion above my head and releasing a victorious laugh. But no way was I going to let him win.
I locked my legs around his waist and yanked his hand to my mouth, sinking my teeth into his skin. He released the can with a growl and I snatched hold of it, aiming it back at him and squirting it everywhere.
He grabbed my hips, flipping me over beneath him and I gasped in surprise as he crushed me down into the cushions with his chest pressing against my back, taking hold of the can and prising it from my fingers.
I panted beneath him as he pressed his hand to my back, his hips lifting so his dick wasn’t grinding into my ass.
“You’re not even trying to win,” he scolded and I laughed.
“It’s just a game,” I said to cover myself, but I knew exactly why I hadn’t tried that hard to fight back. It felt seriously good being thrown around by him.
He stood up suddenly and I rolled over, covered in cream and grinning my head off. He smiled back at me, a genuine no-holding-back smile which lit me up from the inside. Catching my hand, he pulled me to my feet, nose to nose with him. “Don’t ever pull punches with me.”
He leaned in slow and tempting and my heart nearly combusted at the change in his mood. Holy shit.Is he going to kiss me??
I froze on the spot, my heart a wild horse galloping through my chest. I’d dreamed of his mouth against mine so many times. I’d fantasised about what it would be like to fall apart in the solid strength of his arms. He made me feel powerful, unstoppable. He was the kindling to my fire, stoking the very flames of my soul.
He ran the pad of his tongue up the side of my face, licking away the cream and smacking his lips. I felt the heat of his tongue like it was rolling between my thighs and I stared at him in shock.
“Better go back to The Temple, princess.” He backed up, wiping a line of cream from the corner of his mouth and sucking it from his finger.
Did I just get dismissed? The guy was infuriating. One moment he was angry at me, looking like he wanted to put a ten foot pole between us, the next he was begging to be punished then wrestling me down into his couch all before punctuating the morning by licking my damn face like a savage and casually sending me away.
I tutted, hooking up my bag from the floor. I abandoned my scarf, not wanting to turn back and grabbed my coat by the door as I kicked my shoes on.
Before he could say another word, I was out the door and throwing it shut behind me as I veered off into the woods so I didn’t have to pass by the other teacher’s housing.
Super hot, face-licking asshole.
I was soon striding back into The Temple covered in cream with heat flaring between my thighs which had everything to do with my beautiful P.E. teacher. I knew in that moment he’d never cross the lines between us. He’d dance on it though, toying with my feelings until I wanted to yank him close and cross the line myself. Maybe I just imagined the connection between us, wanted to feel it so badly because I loved sharing an enemy with him. But why would he risk his career, his whole reputation for a student? He wasn’t an idiot. And I shouldn’t have flirted with him, but sometimes it was impossible to stop.
“Where the fuck have you been?!” Saint bellowed and I slammed to a halt in the entranceway, finding him rising from his usual seat at the dining table.
Kyan and Blake were nowhere in sight and it frightened me being alone with him. Not that either of them had ever done much to hold Saint back against me. But I had the feeling this Night Keeper was the most dangerous when he was solitary. Like a vampire out for its next taste of blood.
“I was at Monroe’s,” I said, rolling my eyes to try and diffuse the situation and Saint didn’t like that at all.
“I don’t give a fuck. You have rules to abide to. You are meant to have our breakfast on the table by eight o’clock, Plague.”
The coldness in his eyes said he was letting the cruel creature inside him take over. And it was terrifying. I was Plague and he was Master. That was how he liked it best, when things were clear cut between us. But they never felt that clear to me. My relationship with Saint was like rooting through muddy water, you never knew when you were going to cut yourself on something sharp.
Saint kicked his chair aside, sending it crashing
