My hands drop to the fly of his jean shorts as his tongue takes over my mouth, casting a spell on me that I’m not entirely certain isn’t also a curse. Callum backs me up until I’m pressed into the side of a stone wall, our bodies partially hidden by a trellis covered in ivy. It’s possible that another student might stumble on us here, twisted and tangled together like briars on the edge of an ivory tower, but I don’t care.

I just need to touch and kiss and hold someone that cares about me, somebody that I care about in return. Because I don’t need Pamela or the love that I was supposed to have from her. I went out and found my own love. And that isn’t to say that romantic love is the ultimate, it just so happens that the ultimate love I’ve found with the Havoc Boys just happens to be that. Romance. Sex. We get to have it all. I could die happy right now, I think, even as I’m still trembling and shaking from the depth of my mother’s betrayal.

She killed my sister.

My mother, the woman that gave birth to us, who raised us, who abused us.

She snuffed my beautiful, beautiful sister out.

My right hand curves around the base of Cal’s cock, squeezing him so hard that he grunts, encouraging him to thrust against my sweaty fist. He does the same for me, finding my swollen cunt inside my sweatpants and expertly sliding a single finger in to test my readiness. What he finds there has him groaning and grinding against me, seeking hot friction between our bodies as our breath escapes in small puffs. The air is tilting toward spring, but winter has yet to give up her hold on the valley so even though we’ve been running for a while now, all the places on my body that are exposed prickle with the cold.

I like that though, the feeling of being punished by nature.

“Cal,” I murmur, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth until his eyelids flutter and he lets out a small, ragged sounding groan. “Turn me around and fuck me until it hurts.”

“Bernie,” he says, the sound caught halfway between a chastisement and an endearment. I give his cock a few last tugs before I withdraw my hand and he does the same. Just as I asked, Cal puts his hands on my hips and spins me until I’m facing the cream-colored stone wall. My palms brace against it, my back arched and my ass tilted up for his viewing pleasure. Callum curses under his breath as he drags my sweats over the plump curve of my ass, and even if I can’t see him, I can feel him admiring it.

He swipes a hot thumb over my opening—the rear one—and continues down until he finds the slickness of my cunt, pressing inside briefly. A shudder ripples through him that I can feel through even that simple touch.

“Fuck my ass,” I murmur, and Cal makes another sound that could be a growl or a cry or a little bit of both. I’m inviting his darkness to play, and he isn’t entirely sure he wants to let it out. Risking a glance over my shoulder, I find him watching me, as if he anticipated having my eyes meet his. “Do it, please.”

“We don’t have any lube,” Cal hazards, which is a good point. I’m educated enough to know that you really should have some good lube on hand if you’re going to fuck somebody’s ass. But that’s not what I want right now, something that carefully planned and easy and well-thought-out.

“I don’t care,” I tell him, licking my lips, feeling my heart pump like crazy. My sweats are bunched at my knees, my ass thrust out and in view of anyone that might take this small side path between two buildings. Doesn’t matter. Havoc rules this campus the same way we did Prescott High. These kids might have money, but they all know about Donald Asher. Some of them probably even know about Mason Miller. The thing is, you can live in a gilded cage. You can even surround yourself with guards and dogs and security systems. But that little, tiny spider, the one with venom so wicked it can stop your heart with a single bite, you can’t keep it from crawling in the cracks. “I want it to hurt, Cal. I want to feel alive and present in this moment, and I want to forget all about Pam and Neil and Sara and the GMP …”

Callum shudders again. He might be a monster, a beast, but he’s my dog of war, and he’s so very clearly leashed that he’s helpless to respond to my unbridled avarice. With another curse, Cal spits into his hand, slicking his cock with saliva and the clear pre-cum dripping from his tip.

I turn my head back toward the stone and then let it drop between my shoulders, closing my eyes so that I can focus on the feeling of Cal’s left hand on my hip, his thumb sliding over my opening again. He very gently pushes it inside, and I hiss at the mix of discomfort and pleasure. Once he works it in just a little further, the discomfort part of the scenario fades away and then it’s my turn to quiver and tremble under his touch.

“Fuck, this is tight,” Cal murmurs, and I wonder if he’s ever done this before, ever touched someone’s ass the way he’s caressing mine. The thought makes jealousy spike hot and angry through me, so I push it aside and ignore it. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to fit in here.”

A dark sound rolls past my prettily painted lips, and I swipe my tongue across the lower curve in anticipation as Callum switches his thumb out for two fingers. My toes curl inside my sneakers as he slides them in and out, nice and careful, slow, patient.

I want more.

“Do it, Cal. Fuck me.”

There’s no mistaking my words for anything other than what they are: a command.

He obeys like the good monster he is, withdrawing his hand and replacing it with his cock. I can feel the scorching heat of his tip as he presses his erection against my ass.

Oh, God, yes please.

Callum pushes himself inside of me with a grunt from both of us, and my eyes roll into the back of my head, lids fluttering at the sensation of being so full that I can’t breathe. Like I have to stop taking anymore breaths or there won’t be enough room inside of me for both his dick and the oxygen that I need to live. The thing is, both Callum and air both are requirements for my survival, so I hold my breath until my chest aches and he’s bottomed out completely.

Heat and pleasure spiral through me, collecting in my lower belly as my stomach muscles clench in anticipation of his movements. The only negative to this is that my pussy feels naked, empty, and I wish one of the other guys was here to help us out.

As if he can sense my needs—shit, he probably can—Cal curls his body forward, resting one of his own hands on the wall for balance as the other sneaks between my thighs, two fingers dipping into the molten slickness of my core while the heel of his hand grinds against the hardened nub of my clit.

My knees buckle right away, but Cal keeps me standing with the pressure of his hand on my cunt, holding me there while I tremble and gasp and try to blink through the sudden bursts of white fireworks in my vision.

It feels too fucking good, almost impossibly good, and I know I’m going to come from a single thrust or two. Maybe sooner. Cal adjusts his hips, the tight band of my ass squeezing the base of him so hard that he can barely move. Just that slight shift of his body throws me fully into my climax and a deep, primal groan breaks from my own throat as I sag under him, held up by his fingers inside of me and the rough press of my palms on the stone wall.

The orgasm is lightning fast, a brief overall flicker that makes my pussy clench and ripple around Cal’s fingers as he moans along with me.

“I can feel my own hand,” he whispers as I pant and shake and wonder how the hell I’m going to make it back to our apartment without collapsing into one of the fancy flower beds along the way. “I can pleasure my own dick with my fingers.” He hooks his fingers inside of me as if to prove a point, and I bite my lower lip so hard that I taste copper.

This is what I needed right here, a moment of grounding, of pleasure mixed with pain, of my dark avenger with his hoodies and his shorts, his tattoos and his scars, his rough voice and his too pretty mouth. He begins to move, and I’m struck yet again by how obvious it is that he’s a dancer. He fights like a dancer, kills like a dancer, fucks like a dancer.

Lifting onto my toes gives us both a slightly better angle as I tremble beneath him with my sweats bunched around my knees, and my pussy dripping around his fingers. He rocks his hips against me, rather than thrusting like he might in my cunt. It’s just perfect the way he does that, grinding pleasure into a part of me that’s rarely touched but is now suddenly desperate for more, more, more.

“I love you, Bernie,” Cal says, surprising me. He nips my ear, and I nearly collapse, my body so boneless and full of emotion and pleasure both that I’m basically sitting on his hand. “Maybe I don’t say it enough, but it’s true. It’s the only truth I adhere to. It guides me in all things.”

He starts to move the fingers of his left hand faster, the heel of his hand making my clit harden and thicken with the need to come. His hips continue to rock against me, but he isn’t moving them much, mostly he’s bringing us both toward a climax with his fingers. Teasing his own dick. Teasing my pussy. Making me see stars.

My second climax hits much harder, digs its nails much deeper, and I end up dragging my fingers along the stone wall until they bleed, a long, low groan slipping past my lips as my body contracts and throbs around Callum’s fingers. The feel of that, plus me rubbing my ass back against him drags out his own orgasm, and he sags against me, body shuddering. Callum spills himself inside of me and then tucks me close against him, panting hard.

For god only knows how long, we just stay where we are, frozen, gasping, the evening air prickling at our bare skin.

The sound of footsteps gets us both moving quickly, but I can’t stop the groan that slips from my throat as Callum very slowly slides out of me. Fortunately, the person that’s emerging around the corner isn’t a member of the GMP about to catch us with our literal pants down—it’s Oscar motherfucking Montauk.

“That was brilliant, really,” he drawls in that board, aristocratic tone of his.

“And you were watching, why?” I retort, yanking my sweats up but stumbling just enough that Cal has to catch me by the arm. My skin burns where he’s touching me, and I can’t help but shift my attention up to his face. His cheeks are slightly red, either from the cold or the exertion of a good fuck, I’m not sure but the effect on his pale skin is nothing short of glorious.