15. Matteo

The dull droneof chitchat fades as a hum intensifies in my ears. An all-consuming blackness lurks at the edges of my consciousness, but I fight against it, steadying my hand, my expression, and my breath as I withdraw from its allure.

Frankie's muscles twitch delicately beneath my fingers, pulling me back from the edge just in time for Bishop's words to invade my eardrums, and she stiffens beneath my touch.

There's an undercurrent here, a challenge he keeps issuing to her. It's a power play that continues to disturb Frankie, who might not technically be our girl but has inadvertently become the center of our universe.

I don't like it, and I've given him three chances.

"Matteo." Leo's voice draws my attention. Ever so slowly, I adjust my head and peer at Leo over the top of Frankie's hair. He gives me a discreet shake of his head, but his lips twitch.

Is that a no to hurting Bishop?

I want to hurt him and make him bleed. I want to taste his blood, turn his body to ash, and then let the wind scatter it to all four corners of the world.

Ignoring Leo, I dip my head to her ear, savoring the way her breath hitches as I inhale her scent—coconut and vanilla. She's sweet, so fucking sweet, and there is just a hint of darkness that creeps in like a crisp breeze. It reminds me of home.

Not home in Maine, but home in New Delhi—a time from long ago that I've almost forgotten. Almost.

"Tell me now, and I'll kill him for you," I whisper for her ears only.

Frankie gasps, turning to look at me, but I haven't moved, so now our lips are dangerously close.

It would be so easy to close the distance, to taste her lips and steal her breath. I want to. Oh, how I want to.

We have a small issue sitting across from us, and I already know Leo doesn't want me to kill him.

Her big, beautiful eyes blink up at me, the hazel reminding me of a hot summer day. Her entire body relaxes under my gaze, under my touch, and she breathes easier.

Good girl.

"Hmm," she hums as though thinking about it. "Rain check." Winking, she turns back to Bishop and mutters some bullshit I'm not listening to.

Instead, I observe her. Words are just meaningless chatter, white noise to cast into the background, but actions? Now that is where the interesting information comes in—like following a small woman home from the bar.

I have no regrets.

"Go on," he says, leaning on the table. "Or aren't you dating?"

He's challenging her again.

I'm going to hurt him, and it's going to feel amazing.

"I don't owe you proof of anything," Frankie retorts, going toe-to-toe with him, and the way she stands her ground is absolutely fucking delicious. Her eyes never waver as she stares him down.

It's hot as hell.

"My seed is still inside you, firefly," he taunts her. Eventually, she will snap, yet I feel the energy zapping between them, back and forth. There's more here than just lust.

"Who the fuck cares?" she snaps just as the waitress sets all our food on the tabletop. Luckily, they shut the hell up and mind their manners until she moves away.

Annoyed by this entire discussion, I turn to Leo because I am not addressing this gnat. "What would her coming on my hand prove?"

Frankie almost spits out her milkshake, but I focus on Leo. His eyes do that slow, lazy roll from me to Frankie. "I think he wants her all to himself and hasn't learned to share."

"Share?" she squeaks.

I let my palm slide up her leg until my hand wraps around her lower thigh. She's so small, I can wrap my whole hand around her leg.

"Please, I share just fine," Bishop protests.

I ignore him. "So making a woman orgasm is a right of ownership?" I question and slowly turn to Bishop. "Do I have that right?"

"No," Frankie answers, speaking up for herself.

I squeeze her thigh in appreciation and to make sure she knows I'm not ignoring her.

"I made her orgasm, so yes, she's mine." He sits back, smug as fuck.

Too bad he misinterpreted me.

Leo turns in his seat. He's blocking the aisle, his large body perfectly shielding Frankie. "Consent."

Dipping my head down, I whisper just to Frankie. "Do you want to come?"

"What?" She nearly chokes on her fry.

She's adorable. My adorable gothic gem.

"What?" Bishop doesn't look so smug now, does he?

"Tell me right now if you want my hand to creep any higher." My hand slowly inches up her leg.

Leo leans in on her other side, and I can just hear him say, "Isn't that how this game is played? He left his seed in you and now claims you as his. Do you want to be his or ours, Frankie?"

I watch as her pulse flutters in her neck before her heart returns back to normal. Her snow-white pale skin flushes just so, making her look like an undead princess.

Her breath hitches as she thinks about it—or realizes she's sandwiched between two very large rugby players facing off with her ex.

Her whole body tenses. I wouldn't blame her one bit if she fled right now, leaving all of us here. In fact, I hope she does.

"Make me come," she pleads with whispered defiance.

I know this is all for show just for him, but as my hand glides up her thigh, I only watch her. I watch the way she twitches in her seat and the way her breath hiccups.

"Relax," Leo whispers, pushing the fries closer to her. "Eat."

Clearing her throat, she grabs a fry and swirls it around in her milkshake.

"You couldn't just stay out of my life." She sighs defeatedly. "I wasn't good enough for you years ago, and now you're back in my life."

"And things change." Bishop winks at her before sipping his shake. "I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting."

"Why do I feel like everyone around me is talking in tongues?" she grumbles.

Because we are.

I inch my hand higher on her warm thigh, my thumb so close to her core that I can feel the heat radiating off her. I want to push her panties aside, dip my fingers in, and feel how wet she is.

I don't even care that Bishop's cum is still inside her. I plan to use it as lube. Also, I wish it was Leo's cum.

Fuck.

I twitch in my seat, leaning forward and resting my chin on my left hand as my right one lies in the junction of her thighs.

"I feel like everyone is watching me," she says, but then she parts her thighs.

Very good girl.

"I think you like it," Bishop purrs.

"What is your problem?" Frankie snaps at him. It's like neither of them can help themselves and have to outdo the other.

"I just want to see you make that O face."

"You're depraved."

"And you, firefly, haven't even breached the surface of how fucking depraved I can be." His voice is a low tenor.

I tune them out as my finger slips down her slit, right outside of her panties. Just as I thought, she's fucking soaked.

Frankie pauses and twitches, looking everywhere but at me.

"Ah, there it is," Bishop says. "That's how I get you to shut up."

She just glares at him.

"Now the adults can talk." He leans back, placing both hands on the back of the vinyl seating.

I glide one finger up and down her slit, working all the juice she has to give me over the fabric of her panties. Then, ever so slowly, I slip a finger beneath the fabric and toy with her clit.

Somehow, she keeps it together, parting her legs wide enough to give me access to her pussy while still sitting up straight and eating her fries. Every now and then, she lets out a soft little mewl that goes straight to my cock.

"So talk," Leo says, speaking in the voice he uses when he's done playing.

Neither of us anticipated this when Leo asked her to lunch, but I'm not mad about it.

In fact, I'm going to take it out on Leo as soon as we get back to our dorm room.

"I'm not going anywhere," Bishop speaks up, "and from the look these two are giving you, neither are they."

"You are an instructor," she says through gritted teeth. "You can't date a student."

I can't tell if she's mad at him or trying not to come.

I can't have that. I dip a finger inside her. Her walls squeeze me so tightly that she nearly cuts off circulation to my finger.

What would it feel like to have my cock that deep inside of her, feeling her walls squeeze me like that?

"Have you ever read the handbook, Frankie?" Bishop questions.

Frankie bites her lower lip, a delicious sign of her building arousal. I push another finger in her, and I swear she gushes over my hand. I can't take it anymore—I need to see her face. I slide my other hand along the back of the booth, close to Leo, and gently tilt her chin upwards. Her hooded eyes meet mine, and I'm greeted by the most exquisite sight—dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, and lips swollen from biting them too hard. Her breathing is erratic as her chest heaves with each pant.

"Eyes on me," I command softly, silently ordering her to block out the world around us. "Not yet." I turn her head back to Bishop and stop moving my fingers.

She doesn't even fight me.

"They are all the same." She waves her hand away.

"No, they aren't, Frankie," he says. "You should read the handbook."

It's infuriating that we have to dance around her. She believes she's alone in the world. She isn't. All she has to do is look around her and see all of us in her scope.

"Fine, I will."

"Good, I want an essay?—"

He won't punish her. "That won't be necessary." I emphasize my point by curling my finger inside her hot channel, eliciting a low moan from the depths of her throat that sends shivers down my spine. Bishop's smug grin falters, and a frown forms on his face as he realizes he's no longer the center of her attention. Her cheeks burn red, and her hips roll toward me. The next moan that leaves her lips has an older couple looking our way.

"Jesus, man, just let her come," Bishop commands.

"You threw down the challenge," I drawl, massaging that little spot inside her that keeps making her eyes roll into the back of her head. "And I am enacting it."

"I didn't think you'd fucking do it, okay?" he snaps.

"Then let this be a lesson to you, Bishop." I turn to her as I continue to massage her. I feel her wetness dripping over my hand and onto the seat beneath us. On her other side, Leo whispers sweet nothings into her ear, praising how good she's doing, focusing on us and where she is. She isn't nearly as mindless as I'd prefer, but I have this idiot to contend with.

"A lesson." He leans forward, his voice dropping. "She's mine, and she will belong to me and my future pack someday," he warns, but it isn't heated, almost as though the warning is an invitation. "Do you understand?"

"No." I do, but fuck him. I've had more important men torture me for information. He is nothing more than a pathetic little pawn trying to manipulate those around him. "If you are inviting us to be yours, then this isn't the way to do it."

"Oh, and what, asking for an orgy was the way to go?"

"What are you two talking about?" Frankie chimes in, one hand trying to hold her hips up to give me better access.

"Just talking about a group project I'm putting you three in together. Think you can work as a team?" Bishop recovers too fast, almost as though he was born to sling bullshit.

"Can we not talk about school?" Her chin drops to her chest, and she's breathing very carefully now. My hand is soaked, but I'm relentless. I know exactly how to make her sit right where she is now—on the edge of that cliff, ready to fall over but unable to do so.

"Of course we can work together," Leo says, his voice laced with amusement as he sensually licks ketchup off his thumb, never once breaking eye contact with Frankie.

Frankie's breath hitches, her hands gripping the edge of the table. Her hips rock into my hand, silently pleading for more. I oblige her, adding a third finger and curling them in just the right way to have her mewling again.

"I thought so," Bishop says, but his focus is solely on Frankie. "Now that we have that settled..." He snaps his fingers at a passing waitress. "Check please," he barks. The girl scurries away without a word.

Leo leans in close to Frankie's ear and whispers something that sends a blush up her neck. She tries to deny it, but her pussy betrays her, clenching my fingers tightly as she moans into the empty space between them.

Leo chimes in, still whispering into her ear. "You can do it, Frankie. Just a little longer, baby. We're so close to the finish line." His words are dripping with innuendo, and I hide a smirk.

"Fine," she replies, but her breathing doesn't slow one bit. "A group project. Whatever. Just let me come already." She shoots us all a glare that would melt ice, but the heated glint in her eyes betrays her need.

Without missing a beat, Bishop leans over the table, forcing the couple next to us to move their plates aside as he whispers in her ear. "I expect your undivided attention to this project, Frankie. No distractions." His tone is as cool as ice, but I smell his arousal. He's affected by this game of cat and mouse just as much as we are.

"Yes, sir," she replies through gritted teeth.

I put pressure on her clit.

"You're so fucking wet," I growl against her lips, beyond turned on by how soaked she is, knowing it's all for us.

"Delicious," Leo murmurs, swiping a finger along Frankie's inner thigh before bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean.

The sounds of chatter and silverware ebb and flow around us.

I focus only on Frankie, my fingers squelching as they pump in and out of her slowly. Her breathing shudders, and the pulse in her neck flutters harder than before. Her hips twitch.

Leaning down, I exhale against her ear. "I want you to come on my hand, Frankie, and know that next time you come for me, you won't have to hold back. I'll expect to hear your screams all over campus." I press tightly against her clit while moving my fingers faster. "Now come."

"God, yes," she murmurs shakily, lost in carnal bliss.

Frankie's body tenses, her entire frame rigid as she forces herself to hold back the moans threatening to spill from her lips. Her core tightens on my fingers, sucking me deeper inside her. I don't let up, milking out every little spasm she has to give.

Ever so slowly, I pull out of her and take the fingers that were in her and dip them in my shake before licking them off.

"Delicious," I murmur.

As the haze of pleasure begins to recede, Frankie looks up at us with wide eyes full of wonder and astonishment, her flushed cheeks and tousled hair painting a picture of utter debauchery. "I have to pee." She scrambles over Leo and rushes down the aisle as quickly as possible.

"I think I might like you," Bishop utters to me.

I look him straight in the eye. "And I know I'm going to hurt you."

This time, Bishop remains quiet. Smart man.

Let's see how long it takes them to notice our little shadow just left us here.