21. Theron

21

THERON

THIS LOVE - CRAIG ARMSTRONG AND ELIZABETH FRASER

Nyssa stands alone among a sea of people. They crisscross about the crowded sidewalk with places to be. The Christmas Market has finally started in Castlebury, which means every night is a festive, brightly lit celebratory occasion.

As people rush off to check out the snowmen display or grab a hot beverage from a street vendor, Nyssa's much more patient. She wanders at a calmed, almost subdued pace. Beanie and scarf keeping her warm in the early December frost, she's in no rush.

Neither am I.

I track every step at a distance. I pause and admire her as she converses with a vendor selling Christmas tree trinkets. The two exchange cash and warmth invades my chest.

Something tells me it was a small gift for her mother. Some kind of spontaneous purchase for someone she loves.

Nyssa maneuvers the rest of the crowds with ease, slipping in and out between them. I follow the mustard-yellow knitted cap that's been shoved over springy curls that still poke out. The crowds of the Christmas Market soon dissipate as the cobblestone street winds into another.

The gas lamps do their best to light up the space, though shadows persist, long and heavy. At the end of the curving road is the Castlebury Observatory, a large domed structure built of glass and limestone earlier last century.

You'd think, on a night so dark out, it would be as full as the markets. You'd be wrong.

I enter several paces behind Nyssa, swallowed up by the dark interior.

Every so often, a straggler passes us by. Usually on their way out while we're headed deeper inside.

My pulse thrums in obsessive anticipation. The intensity of it sets my teeth on edge.

This can't be normal. It can't be like anything anyone else has felt. No one would understand as I follow Nyssa Oliver deeper into the dark, domed building and the heart inside my chest feels like it's beating for her.

How can I make her understand how I feel?

In a short few weeks, I've fallen in a way I vowed I never would. I promised I wouldn't allow it after…

Nyssa finally comes to a halt in front of a telescope, her dark silhouette backlit by the blue tint in the domed room. I wander toward her until I'm coming up at her side in front of a different telescope.

Two strangers who are not-so-strangers hovering virtually in the dark by each other's side. Her head keeps straight as she bows it for a glance into the telescope.

"I hoped you were behind me."

"Always."

"I didn't see anyone we know."

"Me neither."

"I heard Cassiopeia will be visible tonight. "

"So will Andromeda."

She presses her eye tighter against the round eyepiece. "I think I see her."

I smirk as I step forward to do the same. "I'm surprised you've never been here before."

"I haven't had the time."

"You mean between Driscoll's pool parties and girls' nights?" I taunt.

"No," she answers smartly, "I mean between making sons of bitches pay. You see Cepheus? I didn't expect to…"

A short chuckle leaves me. "Fitting considering their story."

"And what about our story?"

I pause long enough to drink in the starry splendor I'm viewing through the telescope and then stand up straight. Nyssa's still immersed in hers, eye pressed into the telescope so she can observe the vastness of time and space.

My fingers slip under her chin and ease her face away from the telescope.

We're too steeped in shadows to truly see each other, yet I can feel her dark, deep-set eyes on me. I have her undivided attention, standing so close, her soft lips so parted…

"I've made my feelings clear," I say huskily.

… arguably .

Nyssa still doesn't understand the extent of them. They would frighten her. Make her retreat and grow distant. Such intensity scares women.

While I am all in, she's confounded. She's hesitant and fickle. So wild and young, I can't blame her. Yet as the intensity of what I feel for her courses through me, it's hard to slow my pace.

It's hard to play nonchalant and pretend I can take her or leave her when I would give the very heart beating inside my chest if need be…

"You have," she admits seconds later. She leans up into me, seeking the warm comfort of my kiss. "It means so much to me."

Our lips meet in this secret pocket we've carved out for ourselves. We kiss among the dark shadows of the Castlebury Observatory, relieved no one else has to know. Her lips melt against mine like butter, so supple that I almost groan and kiss her even harder.

Half an hour later, we leave the domed building several feet apart. You'd think we were strangers the way she practically goes one way and I go mine.

"Theron."

I stop short at the familiar voice.

Veronica appears among the others milling about. Some headed toward the Christmas Market. Others headed away. She appears in a wave of thick chestnut hair and imploring hazel eyes, the tip of her nose pink from the frigid temperatures.

In the past—only months ago—I would've seen it as my duty to keep her warm.

Now, instead, an indifferent coldness blows through my lungs. I give a polite nod. "Veronica."

"You never come to the Christmas Market. Why now?"

None of your damn business.

Nyssa suddenly appears at my side. "Want to grab some mulled wine? Oh… am I interrupting?"

An uncertain second ticks by, carrying an equally uncertain and peculiar air with it. The three of us exist in a brief stalemate until Veronica cracks a bitter smile.

"Oh. I see. You've replaced me for a younger one." She holds out her hand to shake Nyssa's. "Veronica Fairchild. Theron's fiancée… ex-fiancée, I guess. Before he got cold feet and ditched me."

I grit my teeth. "That's not what happened, Veronica, and you know it."

"One day we were engaged. The next day we weren't, Theron."

"One day my BMW was fine. The next day it was keyed."

She lets out a dry laugh. "After all my time you wasted?—"

"I didn't mean to interrupt," says Nyssa, glancing between us. "It's nice to meet you, Veronica. But Theron and I have to get going."

Veronica's brows tic up as she looks at me in disbelief. "Seriously? She looks like she's barely legal to drink, Theron. This is a new low for you."

"Nyssa's right. We've got to get going."

I grab her gloved hand and press onward, brushing past a shocked Veronica. It's a bold move given she knows my family.

But what other choice do I have?

Nyssa and I trek the rest of the way down the next few blocks until we reach my car. There's no sense in pretending anymore, at least for the night, when we've already been spotted.

I open the passenger door for her and look up to spot Veronica watching from the end of the block.

She shakes her head of chestnut waves and then launches herself into the surrounding crowd, effectively disappearing out of view.

We drive to Nyssa's apartment, where we break open a bottle of wine and let passion run its course. We wind up on the floor next to her art supplies in the middle of laughter as Peaches trots over and tries to join in.

"My sweet girl," Nyssa says, scratching the cat behind the ears. "She feels needy."

"I would too if some strange man started coming over and made my mother scream the way she has been."

She laughs and reaches over to slap my thigh. "It's not the mother's fault if the strange man refuses to keep his hands to himself."

"Debatable."

Nyssa simply rolls her eyes. "If anything, the two of you have become besties. I'm still shocked she's taken so well to you. She usually doesn't like men."

"I'm not most men."

"Is that your humble way of saying you're better?" She smirks as she rises to her feet and Peaches darts along with her toward the kitchen. I stay back, observing the surroundings of her apartment.

It's a space I've been in many times, both consensually… and not so consensually before Nyssa and I started seeing each other. Her easel and art supplies are still set up by the large bay window in the living room. Perfect for sunlight opportunities when they arise during the day.

On the small table she uses for sculpting rests her work-in-progress. Currently, it resembles nothing more than a clay fist. Though, once she's done, I'm sure the vision will become clearer.

"What are you working on?" I ask. "Another festival project?"

"Something like that." The dry kibble chinks against the ceramic bowl as she pours Peaches more food and then adds in some wet salmon.

"Something like that," I repeat, reaching out to gently touch the unfinished female torso sculpture of hers. The one with the torn open chest and gaping hole where a heart should go. "Otherwise code for mind your damn business."

"No," she says with a hint of defensiveness. "I just don't like to talk about works-in-progress."

"I'm sensing a theme."

"How so?"

"You were a little reluctant to let me know about your revenge scheme."

"That's because no one knows. It's hard to trust people in this community."

I understand more than she realizes, though I change the subject. "Do you plan on finishing this one? The female form with the gaping hole?"

"Maybe. I've lost inspiration for it."

"The design is excellent. Very sensual in the same way Undine is."

She fights off a small smile. "That means a lot coming from you."

"What made you want to pursue law when you're so good at art? You could probably make a decent career out of it."

She sets the food bowl down for Peaches to feast on, then straightens up to think about my question. Because it was only moments ago that we were fooling around, she hasn't bothered to put pants on. She stands before me in nothing more than the kimono robe she shrugged on.

I'm no more dressed—I slid on boxers and haven't bothered with anything else.

"It runs in the family, I guess. It was always my mom's dream, but it never happened for her," she answers, plopping down on her quilted sofa. "Plus, it seemed important that I understand how the legal system works. What about you? What made you pursue law?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm an asshole, so, naturally, litigation suits me."

"Very funny. A serious answer would be nice."

"Not smart enough for medicine. Not good looking enough for sales. Not talented enough for art. Does that make sense now?"

She cants her head to the side as if in consideration. "Some would argue against those points."

"Which ones?"

"All three. You're the professor most female students fantasize about," she lists on the spot. "You're obviously smarter than most people. And… talented… well, you're very good with your hands."

I chuckle at the naughty glint in her gaze. "You provide the ego boost I didn't know I needed."

"Any time. You did make me come three times in a row." She stretches out on the sofa, peering up at me with those beautiful sultry eyes of hers.

Restraint disappears for a few seconds as I bend over and kiss her. "What's next for revenge? Any other late-night meet ups with billionaire patriarchs to expose their sordid secrets?"

"Next up…" she trails off thoughtfully. "I finish the job."

"I didn't realize you were so far along."

"It's all set up," she says. Then she tips her head up to kiss me this time. "There's no going back."

Our kisses change as our position does. I sit down on the sofa and pull her into my lap, sliding my hand up the side of her neck to cup her face and revel in her plush lips against mine.

Nyssa still seems to believe this mission against those who wronged her is something she has to do alone, but she doesn't realize there's no such thing.

I've fallen too deep and hard to let her carry this out on her own.

There really is no going back. Even if she doesn't yet grasp the truth, we're in this together.

The university library closes every evening by eight p.m. The head librarian, Ms. Chlebek, is usually the one to peruse the huge hall in search of anything amiss before lights out and lock up. The bespectacled woman with her silvery hair in a tight updo goes aisle to aisle to make sure there are no stragglers left behind before she flicks off the lights at the entrance.

Nyssa and I listen for the click in the main doors before we step out from the secluded section where we've hidden. I'm carrying a lantern with us that's dimly lit for discretion but bright enough when navigating the dark bowels of a library as huge as this one.

"We really need to stop," Nyssa giggles. "One of these days we're going to get caught."

"I thought that was what excited you, Miss Oliver."

"The blowjob in your classroom with the dean five feet away was exciting enough."

I step toward her and palm her ass through the sweater dress and tights she's wearing. "That's what you thought until tonight. You know the rules. You're to behave yourself and take this cock or else there will be consequences."

She backs up into the bookcase behind her wearing a smart-alecky smile on her face. "Sometimes I like the consequences. "

"Take off your tights," I order, my tone losing any human inflection. I hold up the lantern to shine a light on her so I can watch. "Hurry up. I want to see how wet that delicious cunt of yours is…"

She shivers in excitement as her fingers hurry to bunch up the sweater dress and shove down her opaque navy-blue tights. Her bare pussy's visible as her pouty lips smirk and she lets her fingers slip between her thighs.

I watch, entranced, as she begins pleasuring herself for me. Her fingers dip in and out of her pussy, eyes closed and mouth open. Naturally, her body writhes and hips rock. She's close within only a minute which tells me she's been aroused the entire evening.

We had class earlier and then snuck away for an afternoon date, where I drove us two hours out of town so we could spend some public alone time together. We had dinner and browsed a local art gallery before we settled on our latest risky sex game.

Nyssa wanted me to take her in the school library.

If the moody, disgruntled man I was even a few months ago could see me tonight, he'd claim I'd gone insane. I'm acting entirely off emotion and impulse, two practices I've been against most of my life. But I can't resist how Nyssa makes me feel.

It's as if I'm young again. I'm adventurous and insatiable as I witness her masturbate to near orgasm.

Then I'm dropping the lantern and stepping forward to grab her wrist.

" I'm the only one who makes you come," I growl in her face. I kiss her hard while my hands undo the belt buckle of my pants. My cock flips out from inside, rock hard and ready to go.

She jumps with me as I lift her up and she curls her legs around my back. I slot myself inside her a few times, slicking myself in her creamy juices, to her moans.

"Don't make a sound," I scold.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, I slam into her. She bows her spine at the harsh impact, trapped between me and the bookcase of books on legal morality.

But I'm already too far gone, swimming in the pleasure that's her tight heat.

I set a furious pace, fucking into her until she's scratching up my arms and her cunt's dripping.

The intensity between us reaches new heights. Neither of us can keep our hands off each other. We pant along as our bodies rock and our orgasms feel so close, yet so far.

The bookcase behind us seemingly sways to our fast movements. Two books slide off the shelves.

I only drive into her harder. She cries out, eyes clenched shut.

My hands stroke any patch of her naked skin I can while she writhes in answer. We break together, knocked into pieces by a wave of pleasure. I plant myself deep inside her fluttering pussy and bite her throat, feeling so hot and out of control it's almost like I'm not myself.

I've become some other kind of feral beast, incapable of rational thought.

It explains why I'm so lost and foggy-brained when the library lights suddenly flick on.

Nyssa and I are still panting and entwined against the bookcase when we look up at the approaching figure and the boastful smirk they wear.

"I knew it," Heather Driscoll says, stopping in front of us. "I knew you were fucking him, Nyssie. Looks like your secret's not such a secret anymore, is it?"