Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Chapter 138: 138. Act Six

Maisie

"Neither—" I gasped when his nails dug into my flesh.

"Wrong answer." Quinlan’s voice was hard and almost scathing. And he dropped me.

I sucked in a hard breath as my knees and hands hit the floor. My eyes widened in horror when I heard the rip of fabric, and my shirt fell to shambles around me, my back bare.

Cold air rushed to caress my breasts. My nipples tightened painfully against my bra.

A second later, I heard the curl of leather, and pure terror flooded my veins like ice.

He was going to whip me.

I staggered to my feet, panting, bolting for the entrance like my life depended on it. But I slammed hard into the floor when a hand circled my ankle and tripped me.

I twisted wildly and jammed my heel into his hand with everything I had. He chuckled roughly and yanked me down so hard I thought for a second that he might have snapped my ankle. The thought vanished when his body pressed mine into the carpet, large hands bracing on either side of my head, caging me completely.

My bladder pulsed with raw fear. My heart thundered so hard my breaths seized.

It was the calm on his face. The madness in his eyes. The thing staring out at me from the depths of them. I’d gotten a glimpse of Jericho’s Lycan last night, and Soren’s a little while back. And I had somehow convinced myself they were the ones I had to look out for.

But it was different with Quinlan. Because it wasn’t Quinlan’s Lycan that was the problem.

It was Quinlan himself who was unhinged.

"What did we say about running?" he murmured, voice dangerously soft. "Do you, perhaps, like being chased like prey?"

"You were going to whip me!" I screamed at him, bucking and thrashing beneath him with every ounce of strength I had, trying desperately to throw him off.

Unfazed, Quinlan blinked slowly, considering. "You seemed indecisive. I was merely helping you narrow down your choices. It would seem you prefer my cock to being flogged."

"Fuck you."

"That’s the idea," he said, dragging his hands up my blood-soaked torso. His head dipped to lick the blood off my cleavage.

I twisted out of reach, knowing I couldn’t resist him if he got his hands and mouth on me, couldn’t let him know how much this was getting to me, couldn’t let them know I still wanted—

He cupped me between my legs. It was more a spank than anything, and I swallowed a cry as my insides clenched around nothing, my toes curling as unwanted pleasure hit me like a whip.

"If I touched you," he said. "How wet would I find you?"

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, trying to keep my expression empty. "Dry as sandpaper."

His eyes bore into mine. And then, he methodically shoved my skirt up my stomach. My fists slammed into his chest and I kicked, scratched, and bucked like a wild animal. He caught my wrists with terrifying ease. His touch was gentle but firm as he pinned them to my stomach with one hand and explored the length of my thigh with the other.

Tears of humiliation and rage prickled my eyes when he found the soaked strip of my panties.

His chuckle skittered across my skin like a threat. "Liar, liar pants on fire."

He ripped off my panties in one brutal tug.

I squirmed, refusing to make it easy for him, kicking and twisting and snarling with everything I had left. But his fingers found me anyway, and he pushed into me. One finger, slowly, feeding me inch by inch until he was knuckle deep, pressing against the front walls of me.

My eyes watered and my lips parted as he applied just the right amount of pressure.

And curled his finger.

My back arched off the floor and a helpless sound clawed its way out of my chest. But before it could escape, Quinlan leaned in, nose grazing my temple. "If you make a sound," his finger curled tighter and sweat broke on my skin, "I’ll take it as express permission to bend you over that table and fuck you."

I choked, my nails curling into my palms until they bled.

But I couldn’t stop the moan when he pulled out, only to breach me again with two fingers. My inner walls sucked him in so deep, my cry fractured into something filthy and desperate.

Quinlan growled in his chest, and his body began to tremble, his hold on my wrist tightening to the point of pain.

"Quinn," Soren snapped.

It sounded like a warning.

Quinlan inhaled sharply, and when he pulled back, I watched him gather himself, smoothing out his expression into that place of calm. And I swallowed a sob at the loss of his fingers inside me.

He stood, jerking me up with him. I had no strength in my legs to fight back, and so I followed, legs limp as he sat us back in the chair.

I noticed that Jericho had joined us, leaning back against the table, eyes dark on me.

"What are you going to do to me?" I rasped.

"Nothing you don’t want," Quinlan answered. I started to protest, but he added, "Shh. I suspect you might like this next part."

The scene on the stage was changing.

There was a different woman now. She was laid out on a stretcher, wearing nothing but a transparent night shift.

Her knees were raised, one slightly bent over the other, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as her fingers ran between her legs, holding up a smooth, pink vibrator to her clit.

My gaze followed her lust-hooded ones to the other end of the stage. There was a make shift screen, where a blonde woman tucked underneath a table, sucking off a lean man while he pretended to work, and gave up entirely, driving his fingers into her hair, his head dropping back against his seat, eyes falling closed.

It reminded me of what it had felt like to walk in on Quinlan being sucked off by that redhead months ago. That he’d never looked at her during the act. The blistering heat in his eyes as they’d run down my body, and how he came inside her mouth his attention on me.

Jealousy left a cruel, bitter taste in my mouth.

But my thighs pressed together of their own volition.

Mercer’s fingers dug into my other thigh, parting my legs wider over Quinlan’s lap.

Soren’s fingers slipped between them, stroking me high up my thigh. Quinlan’s hands cupped me through my bra.

"Stop," I hissed, even as heat flooded between my legs. "Stop it—"

Quinlan ignored my demand as he dragged his thumb over my aching nipple, and though he hadn’t bared my breast yet, I felt the stroke right where Soren was touching me.