Page 125 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One
“Gwenivere,” I groaned, my voice thick with longing as I trailed kisses down the column of her throat. Her pulse beat wildly beneath my lips, a frantic rhythm that matched my own. “My little Solstice…you want to undo me.”
Her hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet her gaze as I get a whiff of her arousal that’s pooling between those sinful legs.
All for me.
“Then let me,” she whispered, her voice steady and sure. “Like you said, let’s fuck and think later, Nikolai.”
A shiver ran through me at her boldness, my resolve crumbling as my lips claimed hers again.
This time, I let myself taste her fully, my tongue sweeping past her lips to explore her with deliberate, teasing strokes. She moaned into my mouth, her nails dragging down my shoulders as she arched beneath me.
I broke the kiss, my breath uneven as I leaned back to take her in. Her silver hair spilled across the table, her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. The shirt had slipped further up her body, baring the soft curves of her thighs and the glowing mark on her chest.
My fingers traced the hem slowly, savoring the way she trembled under my touch.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Every inch of you.”
She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing under my gaze, but her eyes never wavered.
There was defiance there still, a challenge she didn’t need to voice. My hands found the buttons of the shirt, undoing them one by one, each movement slow and deliberate, as though I were unwrapping something sacred.
When the fabric fell open, I sucked in a sharp breath.
Her body was a masterpiece — soft curves and pale skin kissed by the faint glow of the bond mark that pulsed in tandem with her rapid heartbeat. My eyes roamed her form, drawn to every detail, every imperfection.
The faint lines of scars caught the golden light, subtle but unmistakable.
I hesitated, my fingers brushing over one of the marks etched across her side.
“These,” I murmured, my voice breaking on the word. “Who gave them to you?”
It’s odd to feel a pitch of anger begin to brew within me.
The idea of someone intentionally hurting her does odd things to me.Makes me feel emotions that haven’t surfacedin centuries.She’d done the deed with Cassius, so did he not see these markings? Or was her glamor covering this layer of vulnerability as a precaution?
Yet here she is, laid upon this table, bear and unraveled for my eyes to take in and appreciate.
Her gaze softened, her hand covering mine where it rested against her skin.
“They’re old,” she said quietly, but there was a weight in her voice, a pain that lingered just beneath the surface. “They’re nothing to worry about.”
But they were.
They were everything.
I bent down, pressing a kiss to the longest scar, my lips lingering as though I could erase whatever memory it carried.
“No one will ever touch you like that again,”I say, my voice firm with unspoken promise. I don’t know how she acquired these, and I’m sure when we’re no longer deemed strangers and can rely on each other in this unforgiving space as deceitful as Wicked Academy, she’ll unravel that part of her past, but for now, I can at least emphasize that no one else will ever have a claim of her pain that leaves scars upon her precious flesh.“No one.”
She shivered, her hands tangling in my hair as I kissed another scar, then another, each touch a silent vow.
Her breaths hitched, her body trembling beneath mine, and when I finally looked up, her eyes were clouded with lust and something deeper, something raw and unguarded.
“Nikolai,” she whispered, her voice breaking on my name.
The sound of it spurred me on, my lips trailing lower as I kissed the soft curve of her stomach leading to the dip of her hips.
Her legs parted instinctively, and I sank to my knees, the sight of her laid bare before me enough to steal the air from mylungs. My hands slid along her thighs, savoring the way her skin quivered beneath my touch.
