Chapter 14

14

MINA

The Past

May 25 th , 8:35 p.m.

"Fucking hell," I groaned, throwing a pillow over my face, trying to muffle the fact that I was coming for a third time.

Trent reached up from his spot between my legs to swat it away with wet fingers. "Let them hear."

I rose up enough to glare down at him with a fake pout. "You told me I'm not allowed to howl."

It was a stupid thing him and all his frat bros did during certain parts of their ceremonies. I'd tried to join in once, only for him to pull me aside so that we could have a "serious conversation" during which he'd told me I shouldn't, and I'd politely tried not to laugh at being howl-splained, in large part because he was so good with his tongue.

Quality oral was a rare skill on campus.

Ask me how I knew.

"That's different," he said, laughing into me, and the moment was a little ruined, plus I was exhausted. Ella was definitely on her way here—I'd heard my phone get a text that surely said as much fifteen minutes ago—and I needed to clean myself up before nine.

"Mmm, okay," I said, closing my thighs around his ears a little, and shifting my hips, so he'd get the hint.

"Is it?" he said, wrapping an arm around and over my hips.

"Trent," I complained. I knew I was the very definition of bed head, there was a wet spot the size of a truck tire beneath me, and even if his underlings wouldn't give him shit, they'd definitely be looking at me, doing that thing you could never quite call them on or explain to anyone—any guy— who hadn't already experienced it before.

"You're the one who said I should be down here," Trent teased, pushing his fingers back inside.

"Ella's on her way," I whined, as he lowered his mouth again.

"So? She's definitely heard worse," he said, before beginning to work me over.

She had. Ella was the world's most understanding roommate. I had no idea why she put up with me, or with the way Trent and I fucked like bunnies on Viagra and Adderall just one thin bedroom wall away.

"No, come on," I whined.

"You come on," he teased. "If you're not going to spend the night, you need to give me one more now. I know you can do it, lamb," he said, and yeah, I could, and in hindsight, letting him make me come again when I wanted to be done with things, maybe wasn't a red flag, but it was possibly a white flag that you'd washed with some other red ones to turn all pink like that and—and—and—I groaned .

"Goddammit," I complained, biting my lips and writhing. "Okay—enough—that's enough?—"

He rose up on one arm and wiped his mouth with the other. "Good girl."

"Fuck you," I breathed, grinning at him and regathering myself. My phone chirped again, and this time I picked it up. Ella was outside. I kicked myself free of him, found my underwear on the ground, and pulled them up unceremoniously. Trent watched me panic with a shit-eating grin.

"You worried about something?" he asked, with a head tilt.

"I just don't want her out there with all the rest of the wolves," I said, gesturing to all of his friends outside, plus anyone else who'd already showed up to party—I could hear people starting to shout over other people, and from somewhere downstairs a strong bass thump had begun. "Why haven't I been here before?" I asked, pushing my dress down and hitching my boobs properly back into my bra.

"Because the last party we had here almost burned the place down. We had to hold off until people could be more respectful."

I laughed. "Okay, so I definitely do not want to crash here tonight. Plus, my face wash and my toothbrush?—"

He pretended to be confused. "Why do you need a toothbrush when I have condoms?"

I let my eyebrows crawl up. "Are you implying I should just brush my teeth with your dick?"

Trent made a face and laughed. "I mean...we can try that? I'm not sure how well it'll work, but I'm game, as long as you don't scrape me too hard?—"

"Cum is not mouthwash."

"Technically, anything is mouthwash, as long as you spit it out," he said sagely, standing to encircle me with his arms. He was a good foot taller than I was, and sometimes that was nice, like when it was cold out, or for snuggling on the couch. Other times it was less so, like when I'd challenged him to drunken wrestling one night, discovering that my dearly-nearly-beloved could really easily put me into something akin to a choke hold that I'd be hard pressed to escape from.

"All right," he said, nuzzling his face against mine. "Just remember, this is our room for as long as you want to stay." Then he pulled a key out of his pocket, surprising me—it was on a thin ball chain, like the kind military dog tags came with, and he looped it around my neck, tucking the key itself inside my cleavage. "Any time you feel like you need to rest, you can just come up here, or bring Ella with you."

And then there were times when he was sweet like that, and it felt like he really did understand me. Because neither Ella nor I were built for parties—we could have fun one on one, and we could manage in a group, but Being Presentable In Public really took a lot out of the both of us.

I turned and caught his head between my hands, smooching him quickly on the lips. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"Yeah, I know," he said.

I made a show of smelling his breath. "You'd better go drink some beer to even that out, baby."

"On it, lamb," he said, gnashing his teeth gently in my direction, like the RRP wolf he was, before we both left the room together, and he, with another key, locked the door.