Page 16 of Tether
Taking my hand, he guides me through a large corridor and unlocks a door that leads down a long hallway. I grip his hand tightly so I don’t lose him. This place feels like a maze to me, though Reed’s steps are confident, as if he could find his way in his sleep. The hall gives way to a large, open room with a dais in the center of it. The space is dingy and frigid, and I swear I had just seen a rat skitter past our feet.
“What is this place?” I ask keenly, drinking in the peculiar room as Reed shuts the door behind us.
“It used to be an old meeting spot for the founding families of Hollowcrest,” he informs me, snaking his arms around my waist. His low, sultry voice sends a shiver through me. I leanback into him, savouring the warmth of his solid body at my back. Despite having just met him and Mauve’s brief warnings, he has been nothing but a gentleman towards me, which has proven to be a rare occurrence amongst men these days.
“Founding families?”
“Mhm,” he mutters, gently swiping my hair from my neck. “The Ashbournes,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on my exposed shoulder. “The Whitmores.” Another kiss into the crook of my neck. “The Lockwoods.” Another kiss. I close my eyes, tilting my head to give him better access. “The Sullivans,” he whispers, sliding his hand down the front of my thigh. Heat rushes through me, straight to my core and my breath stalls. “And the Gravenhursts,” he finally says, placing a kiss against the soft flesh below my ear.
“Reed,” I whimper breathlessly. He spins me around, pressing me against the stone wall.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” he admits.
My heart begins to flutter in my chest. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you, too.” Our eyes connect in the darkness, and the ambiance from the flickering flames illuminates the space around us. It no longer feels like I’ve entered a creepy, hidden tunnel beneath the academy. Now, it feels romantic. A hideaway where we can be together without prying eyes and judgmental looks of the students who can’t seem to accept my existence. I peer up at Reed, with pleading doe eyes, expressing that I long for him. For his touch, for his kiss, for his tongue to roam over the spaces of my skin I have yet to let him explore.
He leans down, brushing his lips against mine, a tease of a taste, leaving my neck straining as I lean forward into him, begging for more. He kisses me again with eagerness, and I wrap my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his neatly combed hair. A hum escapes me as Reed’s fingers trail from my waist to my thighs, slipping past the hem of my skirt. The sensation of his fingers on my bare thigh overwhelms mysenses entirely. We break our kiss, gripping onto each other like a lifeline, gasping for air.
“Reed,” I moan in a plea, as his mouth finds its way back to my neck, peppering kisses down to my collarbone, to the delicate flesh of the tops of my breasts. They become hurried, as if his restraint is slipping.
“I’m dying to taste you.” His voice is hoarse against the shell of my ear, and when he pulls away to look at me, there’s nothing but bewildered desire in his eyes. His index finger teases the edge of my panties, waiting for my nod of approval before he goes any further. His chest heaves, and I press my lips against his, feeling bold and empowered by his touch. He once said power demands to be claimed, and I intend to abide by that logic.
“Then devour me, Sullivan.”
His smile is devilish, as if I’ve just granted him permission to do whatever his heart desires. Dropping to his knees, he hikes my leg over his shoulder, wasting no time at all as his head finds its way beneath my skirt like he’s been starving for me. His need to claim me fuels my own, and I suck in a sharp breath as he pulls the fabric of my panties to the side, dragging a skilled finger through the folds of my glistening centre.
“So wet for me already.” His grin is cocky, enjoying the slickness of my arousal around his fingers. He sinks two fingers into my pussy, and my back arches against the stone, sending a sting of pleasure through me. He pumps his digits in and out of me, finding his rhythm with the sounds of our laboured breaths, and I whimper, a slow release building in my core.
“More, please, more,” I beg. Reed dips his head between my thighs and laps at my needy clit, sending my sanity hurtling into a different dimension.
“Oh God, Reed,” I whimper, unable to control the cries that escape me. The sounds leaving my lips give him more confidence in his strokes. His fingers curl inside of me, hitting that sweet spot, pumping in and out of me with vigour as he laps andnips at my swollen clit. The orgasm building within me is both delicious and torturous, and I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping onto Reed’s hair a little rougher than intended.
“You taste fucking heavenly on my tongue,” he praises, and that’s all it takes for me to completely lose all sense of control. With another flick of Reed’s tongue, a collision of stars bursts behind my eyes, and I tremble, crying out his name as an all-consuming orgasm vibrates through me. My legs shudder as Reed slows his tempo, dragging out my release until the very end, until I’m putty in his hands and far too sensitive to let him continue.
Adjusting my panties back in place, he comes back to my level and cups my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. He runs his tongue over my bottom lip before kissing me, deep and intentional.
“Do you like how you taste, Gravenhurst?”
I smirk, nodding my head. If I’ve learned one thing tonight, it’s that Reed’s mouth is like my own personal brand of heroin, and I’ve just become an addict.
ELEVEN
VERENA GRAVENHURST
“Are the vegetables not to your liking, Miss Ren?” Archie’s voice swims through the air of the dining room. He stands behind my chair, watching me push a roasted asparagus around my plate with a fork, lost in thought.
“They’re great, Archie, thank you,” I tell him, taking a hefty bite. I try to hide the disgusted look on my face as I swallow, but the attempt is in vain. Asparagus is the most vile vegetable in existence, and no one can convince me otherwise.
Archie stifles a laugh as I place my fork down on the plate, leaving the vegetable for its rightful place in the disposal. “I’d much prefer a slice of chocolate cake,” I admit, jokingly. Archie perks up straight, immediately making his way through the dining room towards the kitchen. “I will let the cook know.”
“No, Archie, I was just joking, it’s quite all right!” I call after him, but the man is stubborn.
“I insist,” is all he says before disappearing into the back.
I sit in silence for a heartbeat, running my hands over my thighs, against the fabric of a simple, yet gorgeous white dress that was left hanging on the door of my wardrobe this morning. Soft, with thin straps and a lace trim. I’m not entirely sure whohad left it there for me. One of the maids, I suppose. Maybe even the old man himself, though he’d never admit it.
My gaze roams around the lavish room I’m occupying, kicking myself for not having a meal in here sooner. A large chandelier hangs above the oak table, crystals dangling from it, illuminating the deep purple walls in a softer hue. Fifteen empty chairs line the table, made with the same dark oak, the backs of them engraved with vines and flowers I don’t recognize. I can’t help but wonder if my mother had enjoyed a meal in this exact room, what she would have spoken about. My chest tightens, knowing I’ll never get to experience a family dinner with her again.
A shadow sweeps past the door to the hallway, catching my eye, and I stiffen. “Archie?” I hesitantly call out. When he doesn’t answer, I stand from my chair and hurry to the door. Peeking my head out, I catch a glimpse of a man with a black hood pulled over his head, hurrying through the hallway. I’d notice his tall frame anywhere. Loxen. What is he doing creeping about?
