Broken kingdom

Chapter 27 Bianca

I find Oakley mopping an empty classroom in the psychology building. 

I approach him cautiously, hoping like hell he didn’t change his mind about being friends. “Hey.” 

He pauses. “Hey yourself.” 

“Look,” I start, taking a step toward him. “I know things were a little crazy the other day, but I was hoping we could still hang out.” 

Part of me is expecting him to decline, but to my surprise, he doesn’t. 

“I work twelve to eight during the week, but after that I’m free.” 

“Well, most of my classes end before five, but I have a class that gets out at seven on Tuesdays.” Remembering Stone will be at work tonight, I add, “Do you want to hang out after you get off? You can come up to my dorm and I can order us some di

His eyes travel over my face and his lips curl into a soft smile. “I’ll be there.” 

I can’t help but smile myself. “Good.” Giving him a small wave, I spin around, however due to the wet floor, I end up slipping. 

I’m about to hit the floor face-first, but Oakley wraps his arm around my waist, catching me. 

His breath tickles my earlobe. “You okay?” 

No. I’m most definitely not okay. 

I’m trying to ignore the way his hard body is pressing against my back and the big hand that’s splayed across my belly, but it’s like telling a blind person to look at the stars. 

“I think so,” I manage to squeak out. And then because I’m a frazzled mess, I blurt, “Do you have a craving for anything in particular?” 

My heart beats double time when the hand on my belly tightens as his nose finds the spot just under my ear and he inhales me. 

“You know, food-wise,” I whisper, hoping it breaks the spell he’s got me under. 

His voice is a low rumble. “Whatever you order is fine.” 

A moment later he backs away and resumes his mopping. 

I’m about to leave, but then I remember. “Thanks for teaching me how to drive.” 

It’s clear I’ve taken him by surprise because he bristles. “How do—”

“I had another flashback.” Giving him a cheeky grin, I run my fingers along the doorframe. “And I’d get us mint chip ice cream for di

His lips curve into a smirk. “I do now.” 

Past…

“Goddamn, I love your tits,” Oakley groans as he slides his dick between them. 

For a moment I wish I wasn’t tied to his bedpost so I could touch him. 

Then again, I would have missed out on all the fun—and orgasms—I’ve had while being at his mercy tonight. 

“Oh, yeah?” I sweep my tongue along my lower lip suggestively. “Why don’t you show me how much.” 

Shooting me a wolfish grin, he squeezes them in his big palms and thrusts harder. “Well, I was pla

It shouldn’t be so hot watching him blow his load all over my boobs, but holy shit…it is. 

The deep, gruff noises he makes while his lips part and his eyes close as he comes undone…

It’s utterly mesmerizing.

He’s like a potent narcotic—dulling all the pain—but slowly turning me into an addict. 

“Christ,” he rasps, his lips ghosting over mine. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

I mock gasp. “For a non-blonde, right?” 

There’s a playful glint in his eye when he tugs on my hair. “Asshole.” 

I try to close the distance between us and kiss him, but he edges away. 

“We aren’t finished yet.” Smirking, he drags his thumb between my cleavage, scoping up some of the white fluid on my tits before bringing it to my mouth. “You have to clean up your mess.” 

Meeting his gaze, I suck his thumb, lapping up the salty liquid. 

His eyes turn smoky. “Fucking hell, baby girl.” 

My heart beats like a drum as he trails open-mouthed kisses down my body, stopping right above my scar.

I inwardly flinch because I hate whenever someone draws attention to the imperfection. 

The one that reminds me of the day my world was torn apart. 

The pad of his finger gingerly grazes it. “What happened?”

My first instinct is to lie, but I don’t want to. Not with him. 

“Car accident.”

I expect him to press me about losing my kidney, but he doesn’t. 

He simply sweeps his lips over the scar and murmurs, “You’re still here, though. Which means you’re stronger than what tried to break you.” 

Emotion clogs my throat and my mind reels as I process his simple, yet profound statement. 

My mother’s illness might have tried to kill me, but I was stronger. 

Because I survived. 

Somehow, Oakley always manages to say something that not only steals my breath but makes me think of something in a whole new light. 

Then again, he’s got a way with words. 

“Oakley?” I whisper, hoping what I’m about to say won’t ruin the moment between us. 

He looks up. “What’s up?” 

“Remember when I set your weed on fire a few weeks ago?”

His jaw tics. “Yeah.” 

Here goes nothing. 

“Well, I sort of…kind of…looked inside your notebook and—”

“What?” he barks, shifting in bed. 

“I know it was wrong, but your poems are—”

“Emo bullshit.” The tendons in his neck stand out as he thumps his chest. “But no matter how stupid they are, they’re personal and they’re mine. You had no fucking right—”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, even though I know it won’t ease his anger or take back what I did. “I just…I couldn’t help myself.” I hold his gaze because what I have to tell him is more important than my pride. “And your poems aren’t emo bullshit…not to me. They’re amazing and—”

“Get the fuck out.” His jaw tics. “Now.” 

My stomach bottoms out when I see the look of utter betrayal across his face. “I’m sorry.” 

“Get out,” he repeats, harsher this time. 

“I can’t.” I eye the restraints tied around my wrists. “I’m still tied up.” 

The fact that he won’t even acknowledge me as he unties me, hurts like hell. 

I mentally curse myself as I scan the floor for my clothes because me and my stupid big mouth just ruined everything between us. 

And that’s when it occurs to me why he’s so mad. 

It’s more than me reading his poems. 

It’s because I stumbled upon something so personal to him. 

Something that—for reasons I’ll never understand—humiliates him and makes him feel vulnerable. 

And while there’s one secret that can’t ever leave my lips…

There’s also another, more sinister secret I’m keeping. 

Something I never, ever want anyone to know because not only would they never understand…

They’d label me as sick and twisted. 

And they’d be right, because what I did was wrong.

Even though my intentions were good.

My palms begin to sweat and my stomach churns with nerves. 

Telling him will change everything between us, because there’s no way he won’t judge me. 

But for some reason, I feel the need to give him this so he can see I’m willing to be vulnerable for him, too. 

Even though I’m positive he’ll think I’m a disgusting mental case and want nothing to do with me afterward. 

“Oakley,” I whisper. 

 My head is spi