Chapter Eight

NOAH

The dark-haired, grey-green-eyed woman sitting in the passenger seat beside me looks absolutely pathetic.

Why? Why does she look like guilt is eating her up just after saying the damned words that we both know are nothing but the truth?

She calls me out, hits me where she thinks it hurts, and now she's acting like a victim.

I click my tongue as I drive to a halt just outside the administrative department building, and Isabella glances around, her wide eyes meeting mine.

"Get down," I say, my voice devoid of warmth. I don't have time for this emotional bullshit.

She huffs, staring at me like she thinks I'm joking. One, two, three seconds tick by, and when she realises I'm dead serious, she scoffs.

"Noah, you can't just drop me off here. It's the middle of nowhere. I don't know where to go from here."

I raise a brow. "And?"

I'm not interested in her whiny brattiness. I keep telling myself that. I repeat it like a mantra. But between us, she believes that. Myself, I know that's a lie. No matter how whiny Isabella gets, no matter how bratty she gets, or how spoiled she thinks she can be, I've always found myself getting sucked in, always found myself reacting. It's a fucking curse.

"Noah, it's your school too. Aren't you going to show me around or something?" She's breathing slowly now, and for two seconds, my eyes drop to her fucking tits, the way her shirt strains just a little, before I yank my gaze back up... "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have said that. Just help me..."

I snort, clearly entertained by her discomfort. "Doesn't that sound like the job of your boyfriend?" I glance around the empty parking lot, then back at her, a cruel smile playing on my lips. "Oh, wait... he's not here."

Her lips pull together in a pout. "That's not fair." She mumbles.

"Look, I went against my rules of not letting brats into my car by giving you a ride." I lift my chin. "Now, it's either you get down with dignity or..."

"I hate you. I hate everything about you." She throws as she pushes the door open and gets down. My eyes follow those dainty legs, the flash of pale skin, before she slams the door shut with a resounding thud that rattles the car. I don't spare her another second, don't even glance in the rearview mirror, before I stomp on the gas and drive off, leaving her standing alone in the dust.

As much as I enjoy annoying the hell out of Isabella Jordans, I have priorities. I haven't been in that house for a whole week. She'll be moving in soon. I know it's her last resort considering she'd rather sleep out in the woods with a sleeping bag than in my apartment.

It's petty what she's doing with Hardin. Is that what people these days call a relationship? Gross. It’s like watching two puppies try to mate, all awkward and fumbling. For a certain, I know that they haven't fucked. Call it intuition or whatever, but my brother is a fake.

The ringing of my phone makes me tap my earpods, anticipating the voice of the caller.

"Did you pick her up?"

"Just did. Done fucking your whore?" I let the last word linger on the tip of my tongue, knowing it will piss him off.

"Don't... say it like that. Harriet needed me."

I scoff. "Yeah? More like she was in urgent need of your dick and tongue. Don't play dumb. We both know how Harriet needs you."

"Don't be a dick. You do understand why I'm doing this."

I roll my eyes. "Make the fucking transfer ASAP. And don't fucking ask me for favours next time. This is the last time I'm cleaning up your messes. You hear me?" I tap the earpods, disconnecting him, a tick set in my jaw.

I drive with one hand on the steering wheel, one hand nestled in my hair. A few minutes and I'm pulling up at my apartment. Hardin's car is already parked already.

I get down, walking briskly until I'm inside the house. The familiar smell of loneliness welcomes me, a reminder of why I hate it here. Today however, is slightly different as there's much noise coming from upstairs.

Hardin meets me halfway up the stairs, looking all sweaty, his hair plastered to his forehead, a sheen of perspiration on his skin. He's wearing a t-shirt and shorts, looking like he's been doing manual labour, which is a rare sight. "Don't you have classes today?" He asks, staring me all over. I resist the urge to smack him in the middle of his face. What's his fucking deal? "Noah, you know that she doesn't like you being around. I want her to feel comfortable on her first night here."

"This is my house," I growl, taking a step toward Hardin. He's sensible to step back. "I'll go and come when I choose to. She doesn't own this place. And neither do you. Get that through your thick skull."

"That wasn't the deal." Hardin tries again.

"What deal? Right. The one where you lied to your little girlfriend about me agreeing to some ground rules? Real Classic, golden boy." I lean on the bannister.

"You have to be good around her. That was the deal. You know you can't turn your back on your words, right? You promised to be good."

I walk past Hardin, ignoring his babbling. Before I enter my bedroom, I take a peek in the empty one that's opposite it. The door is ajar, and I can see a carpenter, a scrawny guy with sawdust in his hair, still working, assembling furniture. He's already gotten her a bed, a closet, and a bookshelf. My eyes snag on a reading desk with blinding colours of aesthetic stuff adorning it, little trinkets and fairy lights, a fluffy pink pen holder. Fucking nauseating.

"Boyfriend of the year," I mutter under my breath, before I turn and enter my room.

"Took you long enough." A female voice purrs.

Now I'm a guy, and all I see is pussy. Fresh, shaven, glistening pussy, spread invitingly on the rumpled sheets, with a vibrator moving in and out and that's enough to make me grin.

She stands and gets on her knees in front of me, her eyes locking with mine. Her lips are parted, her body already arching. Give it a few seconds, just enough for me to kick off my shoes and for her to unbuckle my belt, and my dick is down her throat, a hungry plunge, my hands fisting her hair as I fuck her tight throat.

Fuck! I cuss loudly.

I've got a thing for girls who can deep throat me. It's a rare skill, a true talent. Well, I'm large down there. Incredibly large. Fat, huge and girthy. And this woman knows just where to suck and where to slurp. Her mouth is a hot, wet cavern. Her tongue, working me over with an expertise that makes my toes curl.

She takes my cock all the way, her eyes watering slightly.

I lose my hands in her hair as I feel my cock grow in her throat, swelling, throbbing. Her mouth widens to accommodate my growing size. With one long suck, I spill thick, long ropes of sizzling hot cum down her throat, pulling out slightly to smear the rest on her lips.

"That was..." She starts to grin, her lips glistening with my cum, but I cut her off mid-sentence, gripping her hips. I flip her over, pressing her cheek to the bed and her ass in the air. "Looks like somebody's in a mood." She says as I stroke my cock twice, rolling on a condom.

"You have no fucking idea," I growl, as I push into her.

"Ouch!" Her lewd scream fills the room and fuck! If it's not a fucking symphony to my ears.