Page 18 of Devious Obsession
“Show me your tits,” he orders.
“What?”
He drops the sheet music and moves toward me slowly, his fingers deftly undoing his belt.
“Show me your tits, Aspen, and I won’t piss on your backpack.” He points to the bag at his feet. “Clock’s ticking…”
I close my eyes and shove my shirt up. Anyone could come into the stairwell and witness this.
“Bra,” he says, but it comes out on a sharp exhale. “Take your fucking bra off.”
I open my eyes—and my mouth, ready to retort—when I notice that his cock is in his hand. And his hand is currently sliding up and down its impressive length. His thumb runs over the tip with every pass, smearing the precum that leaks out.
Why is he turned on by this?
Better question—why am I?
My fingers shake as I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. It takes a second to get it off my arms, then it falls to the floor. He stares at me with an intense expression, all the fire in his gaze that I remember from the party mixed with anger. He’s closer to me, too. If I wanted, I could reach out and touch him. But I don’t, so I curl my fingers around the railing and wait.
My nipples pebble in the cool air, and a chill sweeps up my back.
He tugs harder on his dick, and I open my mouth to ask what the fuck the reasoning behind this is. But then he groans, and his cock jerks. His cum spills out, hitting my bare skin. Ropes of it cross my stomach, my bare breasts. He gets it on the waistband of my jeans and on my shirt, not that he gives a shit.
He smirks, nodding to me, and before I can move, he has his phone out.
He takes a picture of me.
I make a noise in the back of my throat and tug my shirt down, ignoring how it feels to slide against the wetness on my skin. The fabric immediately sticks. I pull my sweatshirt down, too, and reach for my bra.
Steele’s foot lands on it a second before I can grab it.
“That’s mine,” he says.
I scowl at him, but he bends down and snags it, folding the material and tucking it into his own bag, which sits out of harm’s way on the stairs above.
“I need my ID back,” I finally say, because I don’t even knowwhereto start with him. The picture, the backpack, the complete insanity of this moment…
He pulls it from his pocket and tosses it at my feet, a smug smile secured on his stupid fucking face. He blows me a kiss and heads down the steps, kicking more of my things down as he goes. Above us, the door on the second-floor crashes open.
“We should do this again sometime,” Steele calls over his shoulder.
“In your dreams,” I retort. Because, damn it. I walked right into this—and then let it happen. Like a freaking moron.
Next time, I’ll be smarter. I’ll do better.
I’ve got to, or else he really will run me out of this school.
Hours later, I trudge into the dining hall for dinner with a mixture of foreboding and anticipation. The dance team and hockey team both have practice, which means this is the perfect time to sneak in, eat, and run back to the library.
This afternoon, I made the disgraced walk back home, hoping that no one could tell that my bra was missing, or that I smelled like a cheap whore. I’d never taken as hot of a shower as I did today, scrubbing my skin eight times before finally getting out.
The embarrassed part of me wanted to stay home. But unfortunately, I have a paper due that requires more than just a textbook. Which means: library.
“Can I sit?”
I look up from my plate of food. A guy stands in front of me, plate and drink in hand. He’s cute and vaguely familiar…
“We met at the party at Erik’s,” he offers.
