Just us. The devil and the queen.

The student parking lot was on the scenic route to the library, and I swung by to check on my baby—a 1961 Jaguar E-Type that had been my mother’s dream car when she’d been alive—and then trotted up the shallow steps to the gothic edifice that was Pembroke’s library. There was only one other person around this late in the evening, some guy walking away from the library at a quick clip, and I smiled a little at the opportunity to have Sera all to myself. No friends, no underlings. Just us.

The devil and the queen.

I punched my student ID into the keypad outside the library doors and then slipped into the vast, quiet space, already savoring the anticipation of Sera’s response. I went up the wide staircase to the second level and found her exactly as I’d seen her from the belfry: head in hands, shoulders moving ever so slightly.

I waited to announce myself until I was close enough to touch her.

Not that I did touch her. I didn’t allow myself that, ever, ever.

“Is the Global Politics homework really that bad?” I murmured in her ear.

She startled so hard she knocked several pens off the table. “Goddammit, Rhys!” she hissed. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“So sorry, Your Majesty,” I said with a grin, dropping into the chair next to her. Fuck, but she was insanely hot when she was furious, with her panting chest and her eyes flashing with fire. And the shining evidence of the tears she was trying to blink away made it all the sweeter.

“What are you doing here?” she asked tightly.

“I came to see if you were still mad at me.”

She glared. “You mean because you tried to ruin my life. Made my parents furious with me—”

“To be fair, Sera, they’re always furious with you. Not that you deserve that.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard me. “You made my boyfriend break up with me on the night of my goddamn birthday party. I’m not mad at you, Rhys. I just don’t give a fuck about you.”

“Lies, Sera, and you know it. You care about me a great bit. More than—is his name Danny?  Darryl?”

“David,” she said, her mouth in a flat line.  “Who, again, dumped me because of your little stunt.”

I studied her. “You don’t seem too torn up about the dumping part. Maybe it’s because you know that anyone who’d dump you over a video like that isn’t worth your time anyway.”

“I’m not interested in your opinion about my love life, Rhys.”

“Fine, fine, truce, truce,” I said easily. “But maybe I could help you with homework. I’m very good at political analysis, you know. Especially the anal part of analysis. Shall I demonstrate?”

Serafina sucked in a low, slow breath, steadying her shoulders and closing her eyes.  When she opened them, I saw that she’d attempted to armor herself anew, to shield herself from me.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

“I don’t need help with homework,” she said in a cool voice. “And you have no reason to be here.”

“Oh, I have one very good reason,” I said, giving her my most evil smile. “Can you guess what it is?”

“To annoy me?”

“My darling, do you think so little of my intentions?”

She pressed her lips together; I was getting to her. But then she looked back to her things and seemed to draw some kind of strength from them, taking another deep breath in and relaxing her expression. 

It made sense that she’d feel strong here: she was going to be the salutatorian after all, and she was our class president. Pembroke was her domain, her kingdom, and it was here that she’d seemed to learn how to build herself into a doll whom no one could hurt, whom no one could criticize or ignore.

It was here where she’d learned that queens didn’t have to feel alone or unwanted, so long as they stayed strong for everyone else and never let anyone know they were screaming inside.

I suddenly wanted to drag her someplace far from here, far from the books and the expectations and the need to pretend that everything was okay. I wanted her in my Jaguar, top down and the wind kissing our faces; I wanted us under the stars, in the woods, deep in the city where no one knew us. I wanted to dig my fingers into her curls and slant my mouth over hers and finally, finally taste her.

“I think you like goading me,” she said after she’d regained control of herself. “I think you like to see how far you can push me before I snap.”

“Hmm. That depends. Are you close to snapping right now?”

Her fingers twisted in her uniform skirt before letting go. “No,” she lied.

“Interesting. So if I did this…you wouldn’t care?” I grabbed her pens and popped off the tops.

“No,” she snapped. “Not interesting. True. You could—you could—” She seemed to search around for something dramatic enough to prove her point. “You could kiss me right now, and I wouldn’t feel a thing.”

You could kiss me…

My cock surged to thick, throbbing life as I thought about what it would mean to finally taste her mouth. To finally feel the silk of her tongue against mine.

All the promises I’d made to myself, all the careful boundaries and rules…all of it was burned up in flames in an instant.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay? Rhys!”

It was too late. I’d already grabbed the seat of her chair and yanked her close, taking advantage of her surprise and pulling her off the chair completely and onto my lap so that she was forced to straddle me or fall off the chair altogether.

I caught a glimpse of wide eyes and parted lips before I slid my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her mouth down to mine.

She gasped the moment our lips touched, and her hands flew to my chest, like she was about to push me away. I’d let her go if she did—I’d let her do anything except hold on to the lies she told herself—but then she didn’t push me away.

She stayed there, utterly still save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

That was all the permission the devil needed. I licked at the soft curves of her lips, hissing to myself as I tasted her. Cinnamon, sharp and sweet.

Just like her.

Serafina remained frozen as I dragged my mouth over hers, as I etched the sensation of kissing her into my mind. I’d never allow myself this again, I was sure of it, and so I needed this memory, and I needed it to last me the rest of my life.

And if this was all I was going to get, I wasn’t fucking holding back.

I slipped my tongue between her lips, teasing them open until they parted all the way for me. And the moment they did—the moment my tongue danced over hers—she gasped again. But this time, she didn’t even pretend to think about pushing me away. This time her hands tightened on my uniform jacket, fisting in the fabric like she needed desperately to hold on to something.

My free hand found her waist under her jacket and then her hip. I squeezed, urging her to sit all the way down on my lap, urging her to press her soft center against me.

Once we made contact, she let out a quiet ohhh, her hips giving an involuntary rock against my erection. Even through the layers of our clothes, her pussy was so fucking warm, and I had to clench every muscle in my body to keep from blowing.

“You like that?” I murmured, moving down to kiss her jaw and then her neck. She moved against me again, her head falling to the side to give me more access to her neck. “You like feeling how hard I am?”

She whimpered a little, still riding my lap, and then I kissed my way back to her lips. This time she welcomed me eagerly, opening her mouth to receive my attentions and then kissing me back with excited flicks of her tongue. Her hands loosened from my jacket and tangled through my hair, and she pulled tight as she kissed me harder, ground against me harder.

“Oh, little queen,” I purred as I slid my hand down from the nape of her neck to cup her breast over her uniform shirt. It was pert, a perfect handful, and I could feel her tight little nipple jutting proudly against my palm. “I’ve waited four years to feel this.”  I rubbed my thumb over the stiff bud, my other hand guiding her to dry-fuck against me. “It feels just like I imagined.”

“And what does it feel like?” she panted as I kissed her neck again, sucking lightly at the skin there. I breathed her in, trying to control the desperate need for more. The problem was that Serafina was it for me. Anyone else would’ve been a laughable imitation, and I wasn’t interested in facsimiles or substitutes.

I only wanted her and no one else. And if that meant jerking myself raw, if that meant haunting her steps simply to drink her in, then so be it.

“It feels like mine,” I said.

Her rhythm stuttered then, and her head dropped to my shoulder, rolling back and forth as she kept grinding herself against the thick ridge in my pants. The friction was unbearable; the friction was heaven too. My balls were pulling tight to my body, ready to empty a pressure that felt like it’d been building since I was fourteen.

“I’m going to—Rhys—”

No. No way was Serafina van Doren going to come in my lap without me at least feeling it. I shoved my hand up her skirt and found the wet silk of her panties right away. I pushed them aside, my fingers teasing at her dripping entrance.

“Rhys,” she said breathlessly.

“That almost sounds like a request,” I said, continuing to play around the slick hole, and then moving up to her clit and giving it all the attention. “You could have my fingers in there, you know. My tongue. This cock you like rubbing up against so much. All you have to do is beg.”

“I’d never beg,” she said, but she could barely get the words out, she was breathing so hard. “Never.”

“That’s too bad,” I said, clucking my tongue. “Because I’d love to feel the inside of this sweet thing. I’d love to fit myself inside and make you ride me until you broke apart like a wave on the shore. I’d love to eat you everywhere, tongue you everywhere, go down on you for hours and hours.”

“But you hate me,” she said, her voice almost in a cry now. Her cunt was so slick that my whole hand was getting wet and slippery. And her clit was a taut, swollen berry, as needy as my dick was underneath her.

She was close.

“No, Serafina,” I replied, petting her clit firm and fast. “You hate me. There’s a difference.”

“Then what—” She was shivering, shaking, hips jerking against my touch. “—then what do you feel about me?”

“You don’t want to know.”

She really didn’t.

“Let me guess,” she breathed. “You want to tear me apart.”

I smiled. My girl was so astute. I leaned in so that I could whisper in her ear as I kept stroking her clit.

“Yes.”

These two are the hottest kind of explosive…find out what happens next and one-click Sweet Devil now!