Glisser (Ironside Academy Book 5), page 17
He fell back, his hands returning to her hips, and he began to guide her again, sending wave after wave of delicious sensation through her, building the tension inside her body with every drag and shift and throb of the flesh straining up between her thighs. It was almost like a dance, this slow, controlled sway, and she sank into the rhythm, loving that she didn’t have to be in control. She didn’t even have to think. Kalen had meticulously studied, worshipped, and manipulated her body night after night until he knew it like the back of his hand. It was so natural for her to put herself into his hands and trust that he would only give her pleasure, even when it hurt or ached.
He knew when she was getting close, even though this wasn’t a usual part of their performance. He changed his grip again, filling his hands with her ass and squeezing tightly, wringing her out over his length until she was crying out and he was forced to flip them, his hand covering her mouth as he rocked against her, drawing out the aftershocks of her orgasm. He pulled back, ripped off her pyjama shorts and panties, and then leaned over her, tugging at the hard flesh that had been tormenting her.
“Don’t move,” he growled, even though her arms were stuck behind her back, and he was wedged between her legs.
“Cover me,” she begged … because her absolute insanity was already established.
He swore, and she felt ropes of liquid land over her breasts and stomach before there was a slight pressure at her entrance, her soaked sex trying to grip him as he pressed forward, anchoring her hips to the bed with his big hands to restrict her movement as she felt the splash of heat inside her, without him even entering her. She froze, fear bolting through her, because apparently she wasn’t over the whole Oscar incident yet, but he didn’t press in. He trembled there, on the point of spearing her open, his come already inside her.
“Fucking hell, Isobel.” There was a hint of disbelief in his voice. He pulled back, sliding off the bed and stalking away, disappearing into his bathroom. When he returned, it was with a soft, warm cloth, and after untying her, he gently cleaned her without uttering a word, the dampness of the water and the care of his movements sending goosebumps racing across her skin.
When he returned to the bed, he dragged her under the covers and tucked her into his body, his nose brushing over her neck and nuzzling into her hair, his vanilla scent so rich it almost tasted like chocolate melting on her tongue.
“You were scared?” he whispered, hand spreading over her stomach, holding her tightly to his body.
“Only for a second,” she admitted.
“We’ll work on it,” he promised.
She sighed contentedly, lulled to sleep almost immediately, but the sleep was painfully short-lived.
Kalen was pulling her into a sitting position in no time, dragging an oversized shirt over her head as she tried to turn herself boneless in the hope he would give up and leave her to sleep. He carried her back to her room and tucked her into bed, planting a quick kiss against her lips that she guessed was supposed to be a brief parting.
Except he lingered.
She sighed against his lips, and he groaned, his tongue meeting hers. He was breathing heavily when he jerked away from her, his hand dropping over her stomach. He just stood there, and she pouted but didn’t bother opening her eyes. She was happy in this blissful, vanilla-soaked space of half-sleep.
His fingers danced lower, and her eyelids began to flutter.
“No,” he whispered. “Keep them closed. I never want to forget how you look right now.”
She thought she heard him snatch up her phone from the bedside table, and then his fingers were on her stomach again, slipping down to the hem of the shirt he had dressed her in. He pulled it up. Slowly. He bunched it up above her breasts, and then over her face, blinding her even though she had kept her eyes closed.
“For privacy,” he whispered, the bed dipping with his weight as he planted a knee either side of her thighs.
Holy shit. He was taking pictures of her.
Her heart raced, goosebumps pebbling over her skin. He gently circled his thumb over one of her nipples and then the other, teasing them to tight points, and then he gripped one of her breasts aggressively, squeezing tightly.
He released her, pushing the shirt further up over her face until she felt her chin slip out from the collar, air hitting her lips.
“This mouth …” He groaned, his lips hovering over hers. He kissed her like he was trying not to. Like he couldn’t help himself. Like kissing her was all he thought about. She moaned and lazily writhed against him, but didn’t dare try to free her arms from the tangle of his shirt or try to lower them. He moaned in heavy approval, pulling away from her mouth and tugging the shirt back down over her chin again.
And then he was shifting down the bed, roughly shoving her thighs apart and tunnelling two of his fingers into her gripping channel. She huffed in surprise, but then her breath hitched as he slipped his fingers free and used her own moisture to smoothly glide his touch over her clit, teasing her in soft, slow circles that had her hips shifting toward him.
“Can you come like this, princess?” He pulled the shirt up to free her mouth again without pausing in his slow, torturous touches.
“I t-think so,” she whispered.
He grunted, and she felt something hot and hard press against her entrance. He pushed forward and she felt the stretch of his cock—his oversized—cock trying to part her lips.
“Just breathe,” he whispered. He must have set the phone aside, because both of his hands were suddenly smoothing along her hips, massaging her thighs.
They were …
He was …
Kalen West was about to fuck her. She could feel the snap of his control, the vibrating tension that shivered through the room, jolting her sleepy body into sudden alertness. Her arms began to move, but his sharp voice stopped her.
“No. If you look, you’ll panic.”
Her mouth was still exposed, but it made her ragged and choppy breaths sound far too loud. She tried to wiggle away from him, but his hands gripped her hips, thumbs digging into her hipbones, and he pushed himself an inch inside her.
“Use your words, Isobel,” he demanded, voice a gravelled snarl.
She knew which words he was talking about. Green for go, yellow for pause, and red for stop. She was too scared to say green, but she didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t even want him to pause. But still, she was scared.
“I know, baby.” He grunted, forcing his way in another inch. He seemed to be responding to the fear he could feel radiating through the bond. “But you’re going to take my cock like a good girl, aren’t you?”
She was insane. She was unhinged.
She nodded.
He slapped her thigh. “Words.”
“Y-yes,” she hiccupped.
“Sir,” he growled, even though they weren’t in his room in the Stone Dahlia anymore.
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed out.
“Fuck.” He sounded like he was in pain. “I can’t go any further.” He was barely inside. What the fuck? “You’re stretching so tight around me. I need you wetter.”
His fingers returned to her clit, and his other hand released her hip. She wondered if he had picked up the phone again.
“Are you—”
“Yes,” he growled before she could even ask the question. He pulled out of her, his dick slipping up along her clit as he lowered himself over her. He tugged at the shirt blinding her until he could whisper into her ear. “I’ve got a little bit of a fucking problem, Carter. I need to be the one who takes this fear away. I can’t explain why. I just know it needs to be me. I’m the one who makes you feel safe again. It’s fucking me.” He slid against her, making her body bow back, a low whine catching in her throat.
“But if I take you …” His voice grew deeper, more gravelled, his cock twitching as he began to grind into her. “The possessive bastard inside me will grow unbearable. I need a way to remind myself that you’re mine.”
This is a one-time deal, she realised with a sinking feeling.
Kalen continued, distracting her. “I need to be able to pull up my phone and see it. See that I was here. That you were soaked for me, that your body curved for me like it’s doing now. That your perfect little pussy got all red and swollen and sensitive from my fingers and my cock.”
His rough, hungry words and the hard scrape of his penis giving her just the right amount of forceful friction was enough to send her spiralling toward an orgasm. He pulled up, the shirt covering her face now a little askew, though he didn’t try to fix it. He notched himself back at her entrance and pinched her clit, like he was demanding she suddenly focus. She was so soaked that he somehow managed to press halfway into her, but before she could panic, he ground down on her clit with his palm, his other hand flashing up to twist her nipple. It was sharp and painful, and it somehow eased her from the edge of alarm and sent her tunnelling into a blissful wave of pleasure instead.
She knew she was being loud, but she didn’t care. She bowed, and he caught the curve of her spine, falling over her and forcing himself deep, to the hilt, in one brutal thrust.
Holy …
Holy shit.
Her release spiralled deeper, stealing the breath from her body. He tore the shirt from her head, pulling it up higher, but left it tangled around her wrists.
He kissed her hard, releasing deep groans into her mouth as her orgasm seemed to go on forever, clenching around his painful size, over and over again.
“I can’t hold it,” he groaned, pulling most of the way out and ducking his head to sink his teeth into her neck.
He bit her hard enough to leave a mark and then snatched up her phone again, leaning back as his chest rumbled, his thickness pulsing, growing bigger and harder. She tried to breathe through it, staring up at him wide-eyed and trying to convince herself it wasn’t happening again.
“You’re—fuck …” His jaw clenched tightly, his pupils dilated, his eyes dark and greedy. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”
She nodded, nervously licking her lips, and he gripped her hip with one hand, hard enough to bruise, as he released inside her.
He pulled out, wetness spilling across her stomach, and then tossed her phone aside, catching her chin as he pulled her lips to his. “Say you’re mine,” he demanded.
“I’m yours,” she whispered.
He cupped her pussy. “Say this is fucking mine.”
Her entire body throbbed. “It’s yours.”
“Don’t forget.” He kissed her again, his mouth dominating hers completely. “When you’re ready, if you’re ever ready, I’ll prove it. Until then … send me those pictures.”
If Kalen finding a way to come inside her twice in one night wasn’t enough of a claiming for him, then … maybe he was right. Maybe she wasn’t ready for a relationship with him yet.
He tugged up his black exercise pants—he hadn’t even gotten undressed at any point—and strode from the room, his broad back full of tension.
She quickly untangled her hands, wincing at the gentle twinge of pain that immediately travelled through her body as she grabbed her phone.
There were so many photos. A close-up of her lips, with the shirt pulled up to her nose. Her breasts, her stomach, his dick notched against her. His huge length seated halfway inside her. Her face—wide-eyed, staring up at him, fearful and trusting. Ropes of white splashed across her lower stomach. She looked down, realising he had spilled some of it when he pulled out of her—probably deliberately.
Her fingers were shaking, her body squirming. Somehow, she wasn’t sated. It was almost like he had awakened something inside her that just wanted more.
Harder and rougher.
Her phone vibrated with a message.
Kalen: Now.
She quickly sent the photos before flopping back down, her mind reeling. She really should try to get some sleep, but she didn’t know how that was possible.
So she just sprawled there and stared at the ceiling in shock. She could barely even call what they had done sex. It had been a claiming, a healing, an instinct.
A taste.
Her stupid alarm went off ten minutes later.
9
Cupcakes And Casualties
As soon as they arrived at the Icon Cafe for their shift on Saturday morning, Isobel knew it was going to end in disaster. Yulia was there again, and she handed them each a uniform, directing them immediately to the bathrooms to get changed. The cafe itself was brighter than the other rooms in the Stone Dahlia, with a lighter gold and sapphire colour scheme and a warm, welcoming glow. Individual seating areas were arranged along the edges of the room, each of them enclosed into large but cosy rooms with wood-panelled walls and exposed beam ceilings with light fabric softly draping between each beam to form a canopy. The entrance to each room was a huge, curved arch with fluttering white curtains that matched the canopy. Inside were velvet lounge chairs and curved sofas positioned around marble tables with warm, polished wood bases.
There seemed to be personal touches scattered throughout, like plush cushions, crystal vases overflowing with fresh flowers, bright oil paintings, and glass or polished wood sculptures. At the heart of the cafe was a serving area with polished wood and glass panels reflecting light everywhere. The space was haloed by ivy and designer plants that hung from the ceiling, hovering over the bar that circled the entire central cafe.
The bathrooms weren’t quite as luxurious as those belonging to the Dahlia Room, but they were still slathered in marble and soft with gold mood lighting.
The uniform seemed like a death knell for their first shift, and Isobel groaned after disappearing into the bathroom to switch out her clothes. She had been given a baby-blue dress that hugged her figure tightly and ended at her thighs with small cap sleeves. The fabric had a little bit of stretch, which made it easier to move in, but that also meant that it formed over the natural contours of her body with an almost elastic grip.
Things got worse when she pushed out of the stall and came face-to-face with Mei Ito, who was wearing an identical dress.
“Oh,” Mei said, her eyes sweeping over Isobel. “You’re here too.”
“I guess I am.”
Mei sniffed, shaking out her long black hair. “Try not to get in my way, Sigma. I’m here to cultivate important business contacts.”
“Okay?” Isobel said, because what did she care? But Mei was already out of the bathroom, the door falling closed behind her.
And then it got worse.
The Alphas had been dressed in matching midnight blue suits, several shades darker than her dress. Bellamy was hovering nearby, also suited up. He gave her a look, his eyebrows briefly jumping up, surprised to see her, before he returned his attention to Yulia.
Her stomach sank.
What had they done to recruit him?
What information did they have on him?
Did they force him to do something?
The entire human group was there, as well as several fifth-year students and a couple of fourth-year students.
“This is Ethan, our bar manager,” Yulia said, once all the students had gathered, ready to start their shift. “He’s here for our morning shift in the cafe.” She indicated a man with messy black hair and smiling brown eyes, a dish towel slung over his broad shoulders. It was the same man who had offered his business card and helped her set up her stage the night before. “For those of you just starting today, you’ll report to him at the start of your shifts. You’ll work at the bar or in the kitchen until you’re requested as a guest. As a guest, you will be the personal attendant to that table and that customer or group until they leave. You will wait on them, pour their drinks, serve their food, and engage them in conversation. You are to be pleasant and charming at all times. You are to make them feel special, above all. Make them feel that they’re your favourite person in the world so that they come back again next week and request to see you again. Photos and hugs are allowed, but nothing else. You’re allowed to touch them, but they’re not allowed to touch you. They’re well aware of this rule. Are we all understood?”
They all chimed in with an answer, and Ethan jumped into action without a preamble, directing everyone to stand in two lines by the entrance, where they could greet the guests as the doors to the cafe opened. Isobel did her best to smile, and was fairly sure it was warm and welcoming … or at least it was polite and not a grimace, which was exactly what Oscar was wearing.
He didn’t greet anyone.
Neither did Mikel or Kalen.
Niko may have released a few grunts. Moses didn’t even lift his head to look at them.
This was not going to go well.
Isobel was so worried about them that she didn’t even notice anyone who walked through the door, but as soon as they reported back to the bar, Ethan pointed out one of the private rooms.
“Table eight, Carter. You’ve been requested.”
He moved on quickly, telling the Alphas they had also been requested. He skipped Oscar and Mikel and then moved on to the human group, assigning them all table numbers.
“Menus are on the bar there,” he said, noticing that Isobel hadn’t moved. “You just hand them a menu, be friendly, and take their orders. There’s really nothing to it.” He gave her a grin. “You’ll do great.”
She wasn’t the one he should be worrying about.
Moses snatched up a menu like he was about to use it to whack someone across the face.
Gabriel refused to touch the leather-bound, gold-edged menus at all, giving them a distasteful look, even though they were likely impeccably clean. He also gave the towel slung over Ethan’s shoulder a narrow-eyed glare as though personally offended by it before he strode off empty-handed.
Niko approached his table and tossed the menus onto it carelessly, sinking into one of the sofas with a frown. His room was full of teenage girls. Isobel hurried to catch up with Ethan, who was already back behind the bar.
“H-how did they get in here?” she asked quietly, nodding toward Niko’s room.
