Jack Cartwright has put his wild sexual side firmly in the past so he can focus on his graduate studies. All he wants is to finish his thesis. But the appearance of three mysterious students in a neighboring suite throws his careful plans into chaos. Especially when he catches the three of them together…in bed.
Clare, Luc and Rob have a highly unusual relationship. Friends since childhood, the two boys rescued Clare from unimaginable horrors. They’ve been her protectors ever since, and something more. But Clare can’t stop thinking about the sexy, smoldering resident advisor down the hall, and what fierce urges might be hiding behind his controlled exterior.
Now Jack’s dark sexual needs threaten to derail his career as the irresistible threesome lures him into their secret erotic world. But when obsession takes hold, rules don’t stand a chance.
Reader Advisory: Contains m/m/f/m, anal play and other activities not usually associated with an Ivy League institution.
Adams House mailboxes.
Jack’s head jerked up from his pile of mail. Clare stood a few feet from him. Her voice was soft and breathy, like a wooden flute being played in a forest. He smelled her—he’d come to recognize her scent even when she’d already left the room. It had an undertone of green apples with a whiff of chlorine. By now he’d learned that she swam. The thought of Clare in a swimming pool was almost too much for him. He’d spent agonizing minutes wondering whether she wore a bikini or a one-piece. Imagining her in the locker room…
Her name felt intrusive on his tongue, too intimate. Embarrassing. As if she’d guess his perverted thoughts from the way he said her name.
“Mr. Barnes told me you grew up in this area.” She spoke with that same faint Louisiana accent and very carefully, as if afraid to get a word wrong.
“Yes, I grew up in South Boston.” A different world, but she probably knew that.
“Can you recommend a good watchmaker?”’
“A what?” He stared at her mouth as that little smile curled one corner.
“I need my watch repaired.” She opened her hand to reveal an old pocket watch, its silver patina chipped. The chain spilled through her fingers like water. He wanted to lick them.
“It belonged to my grandfather. It deserves proper care.”
He loved the way she spoke, so precisely, carefully selecting each word. He’d heard she was studying poetry. “I agree. I don’t know of any repair shops offhand, but I can ask around.”
“I’d appreciate that very much.” She gave him the friendliest smile she’d shared thus far, along with a graceful nod. She turned as if to go, and suddenly he couldn’t stand to see that happen.
“Where are your friends?”
“My friends? Oh, Rob and Luc?” The corner of her lip quivered ironically. Fascinated, he realized he could read her moods in that one tiny portion of her anatomy. “They’re pretending to try out for crew. But really they just wanted to see what all the fuss is about. I suppose…”
“I suppose you think we’re always together.”
“Frequently, at any rate. Students are usually advised to branch out, to get to know as many other students as possible.”
“Well.” She considered, tilting her head carefully. “I don’t care much for other students.” Her clear gray gaze slid toward his, catching for an electrifying instant of significance. Then she was gone.
She didn’t care for other students. Did that mean she cared for non-students? Did that mean she only cared for her two friends?
Jack went over every word in that conversation a hundred times before their next encounter.
Inane Scrawlings – September 28
My instincts tell me J’s fucked men before and would do it again. Sex practically oozes out the man’s pores. Does he have any idea what he does to me? The first time I ever spoke to him, at the mailboxes, I ran back to my room to masturbate. Except I didn’t even make it to my room. This sounds insane, but I ran into the laundry room and locked the door. I sat on a washing machine with my legs spread open. I still had my pocket watch, the one I’d pretended was broken. I wrapped the chain around my hand and drove it down my pants like a madwoman. With the chain pressed against my cunt and the washing machine vibrating under me, I thought about J—his big, hulking shoulders—black shadow on his jaw. The way his midnight-black eyes strip the clothes right off me—the swelling in his jeans—oh God. The chain bit into my clit—I needed that, the harshness, the pressure. I came so hard I bit my arm to keep from making too much noise.
Even so, I got odd looks from the kid waiting outside the door when I finally opened it.
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