Page 73 of Wicked Vile King
And I didn't want him to claim my first orgasm either.
But right now, Iwantto be on that table again.
How can one look steal my breath away? Will his touch slay me on the spot?
I think it might as I run face-first into the back of the girl in front of me who has stopped walking. She stumbles forward, her feet slapping the concrete, and turns around with a curse. I mumble an apology as Saint laughs, loud and boisterous as he walks closer. I think she might want to hit me—the clenched fists on either side of her sure seem to indicate it—but her glare drops to the collar around my throat. Then she looks to Saint, her nostrils still flared and her cheeks burning rosy red with her rage, and turns away with a huff.
He was right.
Every student in this school knows what the collar means, that I am his and they aren't allowed to touch me. I'm grateful for it right now.
"Line up," Coach Adler says as the boys arrive. "Each of you take a lane."
I find an open lane and to my horror, the object of all of my current fantasies steps up to the one next to me. The girl occupying it looks to him, then to me, and back to him before she leaves.
"Nice suit," he says with a sniff, and if I didn't know any better, I'd think he was trying to smell me. His tongue tastes his top two teeth again, and oh my God, if I felt naked before when I left the girls' locker room and then fileted open when Saint walked out of the boys' locker room like a god and looked at me, well now, I'm feeling like he's somehow found the key to my brain and is currently digging around for fun.
"Nice suit," he repeats with a singular nod. "It would look better on the floor."
Holy hell.
What did he just say? And why do his words melt me when they land? I'm going to be a puddle by the time this damned class is over.
He smirks, his blue-eyed gaze locked on me, as the blush on my cheeks stretches, crawling down my throat and across my chest until all of me ignites with heat.
"On my mark," yells Coach Adler.
Saint walks up to the edge of the pool, and I follow suit.
"One," she calls behind us. "Two. Three. Dive!"
And I do, even though it's been years since diving lessons, and I'm the definition of rusty. I expect the shock of cold water, but when I land, I am cradled in warmth. Too bad it does nothing to cool the fire Saint started with his words.
I don't know if we're supposed to be doing a certain swim stroke or a certain number of laps or even if we're supposed to stop at a certain point, but I figure someone will stop me—or not—when we're done, so I just swim.
Lap after lap, I try to ignore the giantfastbody in the lane beside me. I open my eyes and look at the white tile beneath me. I shouldn't. It burns. Maybe Coach forgot to give out goggles or maybe she didn't care, but if I don't open my eyes, there's a chance I'm going to run straight over the floating divider and intohislane. Since it's a toss-up whether he'd kiss me or kill me for doing it, I decide to take the path most likely to keep me alive.
In the water, it's easy to forget my problems, to shut off my mind and just be me for a little while.
I don't know how long I swim, going back and forth, my hand hitting the concrete wall with each lap, but I don't care either. So this is what it feels like to get an hour of mandatory group exercise each day. The giant handbook Headmistress gave me my first day on campus promised physical education, but there's a lot in that handbook we don't actually receive, like a well-rounded education for starters.
I slap the wet concrete and start a new lap when Coach Adler blows a whistle. The sound cuts through the water, and I surface a moment later, paddling my way back to the poolside.
I can't explain the feeling I get. It's something less than a shiver and more like intuition, but my gaze is drawn to the bleachers against the wall, and when I look, there's a girl at the very top at the point where the shadows cling to the wall. I think I've seen her before, but it's hard to tell. Maybe in the library that day with Saint, watching me. I blink, and she doesn't go away. Saint arrives beside me as the alarm starts to blare, red lights flashing from above and rolling across the surface of the water. I look back at the place where the girl had stood, but it's empty and she's gone, having disappeared like a ghost and leaving me to wonder if she was actually real at all.
"All students please get in line to be escorted to your dormitories," Coach Adler calls over the alarm. "There's been an incident. Now, get out of the pool and gather behind me. Your items will be returned to you at a later date. Hurry. There's no time to change."
People grumble, and I wish I'd had the forethought to choose a lane with a ladder before I manage to heave myself out of the pool and onto the concrete. I climb to my feet and follow the other students to gather at the back of the line. Saint arrives behind me and stands close, almost touching me, but not quite. It makes goosebumps pop up on my arms.
"Follow me," Coach says as the line starts out the double doors. We're almost to the exit before the lights in the building go off, and everything goes dark.
A girl shrieks, and someone else cackles as Coach tells them to calm down. I step forward when the line starts moving again, but someone grabs my hand and pulls me away into the shadows.
Saint.
"Wait, pet," he whispers to me from behind as he slides his arms around my middle and pulls my ass against his front. I go still beneath his solid touch.
"What's going on?" I ask.
