Queens & Aces

JULIA POV

“Are you jealous?”

Zeke snickered, releasing his grip on my waist. We had just finished unpacking, and there was only so much free time before we had to go to the auditorium to usher in a new wave of unfortunate assholes. “No way.”

“Really?” I asked, my lips giving away my amusement. “Because you’ve been pouting ever since I told you.”

“I’m not pouting,” Zeke lied, facing away from me on the bed. “I’m just confused.”

“About what?”

He groaned, entirely too bothered by ancient history. “Why Dorian would let you peg him in the first place? It’s so—”

A wry smile formed on my face. “Intimate?”

Zeke frowned. “Personal.”

Shrugging, I fell onto my pillow with a peace I hadn’t known in the three very long months my parents forced me to spend at home. “I guess he wanted me to win.”

“Right,” he sighed, still not satisfied with my answer.

I laughed. “Are you still pouting?” We were all set to live together in my exclusive King Chambers until I confessed to pegging his nemesis. He asked for the kinkiest sex act I took part in during the games and resented my honest answer. Typical.

“I’m not pouting,” he said, pouting.

I sat up and lifted his chin, forcing him to look at me. “Do you want me to bend you over and fuck you like my slut so you’re even?”

Zeke’s face flushed. “I thought you said you were retired.”

I ran my hand over his thigh, seducing him in just one way I knew how. “I could make an exception,” I purred, practically sitting on his lap.

“Thank you, almighty king.” He pressed his lips to mine, wrapping his arm around my waist, and pressing our bodies against the bed. My legs parted, inviting him closer. Zeke pushed a piece of hair out of my face before kissing my nose. “I missed you.”

It had been months since we were fully alone. Our parents refused to let either of us leave our houses. They were too worried we’d run off and cause a variety of trouble. Our phones were the only connection that we had, and even then we had to remain stealthy.

The primary outlet for conversation was my brother, but he was away most of the summer, interning for my father’s campaign. It was gross, really, how Dad groomed him to become the next edition of himself, but it kept most of the attention off of me, so long as I remained quiet in my room. Zeke kissed my neck, interrupting my thoughts. Well, mostly quiet. I moaned as his hands traveled lower.

“I missed you too,” I said, my breath quickening. The crown sat on my nightstand glimmering in the mid-day light. Zeke hadn’t mentioned it once. Maybe he never would. It was his nightstand, too, after all.

St. Anne’s University was willing to overlook certain … moral obligations as long as we pulled the correct strings. On paper, Zeke would remain Jared’s official roommate across campus, despite maintaining a permanent residence with me.

“Tell me again,” Zeke said into the crook of my neck. “How did the pegging start?”

“Uh, well,” I shifted, allowing my skirt to ride up my legs. “We just, kind of, got into it.”

Zeke raised his eyebrows. “No foreplay?”

“It was for points,” I said, feeling defensive, and slightly annoyed that he stopped feeling me up. “It’s not like we were trying to be romantic.”

Humor glinted in his eyes. “Right,” he said. “So he didn’t do this?”

Before I could respond, Zeke moved down my body, lifting my hips and removing my St. Anne’s issued plaid skirt and panties. I knew it was stupid to wear them, knowing I’d be naked as soon as the last box was settled in our room, but it was always best to give Zeke a challenge.

“A thong?” he asked, a smirk already on his lips.

“Matches my bra,” I said, looping my finger underneath my button blouse and revealing my lace lingerie.

He laughed before grabbing my legs and hoisting them over his shoulder, diving into my pussy without hesitation. My eyes widened, and I gripped the top of his head, my fist tightening in his hair. “Jesus,” I swore, overcome by the sparks shooting up my thighs and settling underneath his tongue.

Zeke looked up, a wry smile on his face. “Wrong name, baby.” Before I could respond, he returned his attention to where I wanted it most, licking at my swollen clit and pushing two fingers inside of me. I jerked against him, enjoying the sensation too much, never quite reaching the same ecstasy at home alone, even with his voice on the other line.

“I really missed you,” I said, my voice thick with lust. I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling, wondering what it would take to keep him there with me forever. But before I could cum all over his pretty face, there was a knock at my door, a loud, demanding knock. I tried to wiggle away, but Zeke continued, his fingers turning white against my hips, forcing me to take his tongue deep inside my pussy.

“Zeke,” I hissed. “They could hear us.” Whoever they were. But he didn’t look up. He didn’t even react. “You have to stop,” I said, panic setting in. I liked exhibitionism as much as Tiffany Hargrave, but that didn’t mean I wanted the dean to overhear our cohabitation on the first day.

This time I got a laugh. “They can wait,” he said while very nearly sucking my soul from my body.

“No,” I whimpered, sounding more desperate by the second. “They really can’t.” I imagined Lucy, the glorified hall monitor, tapping her penny loafers just outside the door. The thought alone turned me off enough to regain thirty percent of my senses.

I pried myself away, pushing Zeke off me and readjusting my skirt. I opened the door before Zeke could drag me back onto the bed, and there I was with the last face I expected to see, staring back at me.

Familiar blue eyes met mine, and I cleared my throat, embarrassment settling in. How much did he hear? “What are you doing here?” I asked.

Soft, dark blonde curls fell over his forehead and screamed for a haircut. He appeared unfazed, if not amused, by how long it took me to answer the door. I only hoped that St. Anne installed thicker walls over the summer. “I’m here to tell you about my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,” he said, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. I rolled my eyes, unable to say anything in my defense before his gaze dropped. “And you have panties hanging out of your skirt.”

A strained, humiliating noise left my lips, and Zeke appeared at my side.

“And you are?” Zeke asked, attempting to appear threatening, and if I didn’t know him, it would work. He stepped forward, putting himself between me and—

“I’m Samuel, Julia’s brother,” Samuel said, painting on the same million-dollar smile Dad had given so many prospective voters. “The question is, who are you?”

I sucked in a breath. This can’t be good.