CHAPTER THREE: POSSESSION

Aiden's POV 

I didn’t sleep last night. I couldn't.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that slow, filthy smile and I just got riled up again.

Now I’m on hour four of my 5 a.m. shift at Brew & Burn and my entire body feels like it’s been dragged behind a bus. The espresso machine keeps hissing like it’s personally offended by my existence.

I’m wiping the counter when the bell chimes and that accented voice that makes me shiver comes through. 

What the fuck is he doing here?

“Large black coffee, extra hot.”

Nikolai Serrano is leaning against my counter in a dove-gray cashmere coat with collar popped. He looks like he walked off a Paris runway and that just made me more pissed.

“We’re out of coffee.”

He laughs loudly, obviously amused. “You can't be out of coffee. This is a fucking coffee shop.”

I slam the bell harder than necessary. “Fine. Name for the order?”

“You already know my name, Aiden,” he murmurs, voice pitched low so the two customers in the corner can’t hear. “You screamed it last night. Remember?”

Heat floods my face. I hiss, “What the fuck are you saying!? Shut. Up.”

He leans closer over the counter, forearms braced, coat falling open to reveal a black shirt stretched across his chest. “Make me.”

I want to throw the entire pitcher of steamed milk at his perfect face.

Instead I ring him up his stupid coffee, slap the cup on the counter without writing his name. “Seven fifty.”

He slides a black card across the table. “Keep the change. Buy yourself something that makes you less homicidal. Maybe a sense of humor.”

I shove the card back. “We don’t take cards.”

He laughs again then brings out change from his pocket and hands it to me. “See you in class, then.”

He’s gone before I can tell him to choke on the coffee.

An hour later, I clock out and step outside only to hear the clouds rumbling and feel drizzle fall from the sky.

Rain hammers the sidewalk. 

Of course I forgot an umbrella. Of course the hot water at my dorm has been out two days ago and I’ve been showering with ice-cold water, so my throat already feels raw.

Perfect. 

I’ll just show up to class looking like a drowned rat.

I’m weighing pneumonia versus tardiness when a sleek black Maybach glides to the curb. The rear window lowers silently.

Nikolai leans out with one elbow on the ledge, huge black umbrella resting on his shoulder.

“Get in, Cross.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’ll be late.”

“I’d rather die of hypothermia.”

He sighs. “So dramatic.” He pops the door open himself. “I’m parked illegally. Clock’s ticking.”

Rain lashes my face. My teeth are already chattering and because I don't really have a choice, I get in. 

The second the door shuts, I sigh in relief. He has heated leather seats. I can smell that new-car smell mixed with whatever cologne Nikolai bathes in. 

He doesn’t even look at me, just hands me a folded warm white towel.

I snatch it. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Noted,” he says, pulling away from the curb smoothly.

*...*...*...*...*...*...*...

We reach campus in about four minutes. I’m out of the car before he kills the engine, but he catches up in two strides, umbrella tilted over both of us so casually it feels intimate.

“Personal space,” I mutter.

“Never heard of it,” he answers, guiding me through the downpour.

People are staring. I hear someone whisper, “Holy shit, that’s Nikolai Serrano,” like he’s a celebrity. Which, I later discover, he is.

Inside the lecture hall it’s worse. People squeal and surround him, I head straight for the front row, and pretend I don't feel a bit weird at the attention he's getting.

Dr. Denine walks in and drops a bomb.

“Pop quiz. Everyone clear your desks.”

Groans ripple through the hall but I feel my mouth curve.

I finish in nine minutes. Nikolai finishes in eight. He slides his paper forward, stretches like a cat, and winks at me.

I just roll my eyes at him. He probably just wrote shit.

*...*...*...*...*...*...

I attend the rest of my classes, trying to ignore Nikolai, then at the end of the day, I walk towards the news board for our test results and am left speechless by the sight before me. 

1. Aiden Cross – 100  

2. Nikolai Serrano – 99

The rest of the list is a distant blur.

My eyes burned and my fists clenched so hard, my nails drew blood. He lost just one point. One fucking point??

I’m staring at those two names when someone's warm breath ghosts the shell of my ear.

“I lost the point on purpose, baby,” Nikolai’s voice purrs, directly behind me, his chest almost touching my back. “Didn’t want you to quit while it was still easy.”

He lost a point on purpose??

Something inside me snaps

I whirl around so fast and yell. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Nikolai stares at me with a guarded expression before pinning me against the wall.

His palms slap the wall on either side of my head, caging me. The hallway is mostly empty, but anyone can walk in on us, and he doesn’t give a single damn.

His thigh slides between mine, pinning me harder. The expensive wool of his coat brushes my chest. 

“I told you the other day,” he says, his voice rough. “I’m obsessed with you.”

Before I can say anything, his mouth is on my neck.

He makes a hot, open-mouthed kiss, uses his teeth to scrape the tendon, then begins to lick and suck me in a slow drag that made my knees buckle.

My hands fly up to shove him, but they end up fisted in his coat instead.

He sucks hard, right under my jaw, and I feel the pull all the way to my cock. A helpless sound rips out of me.

“Nikolai—”

“Say it again,” he growls against my skin, sucking another bruise higher, closer to my ear. “I want my name in that angry mouth while I mark you up.”

His hips slowly roll once, letting me feel exactly how hard he already is. My own traitorous body answers instantly, grinding back before my brain catches up.

I shove at his chest, but it’s weak. “Someone could see—”

“Let them.” He drags his teeth up to my earlobe, bites, then soothes it with his tongue. “Let the whole fucking school see who you belong to now.”

His hand slides down, bold as hell, cups me through my jeans, and squeezes my dick just hard enough to make my vision white out.

He hasn't even properly touched me and  I’m already leaking.

“Fuck, look how hard you are for me,” he rasps, palming me roughly, thumb dragging up the ridge of my zipper until I jerk into his grip. 

I hate him.  

I hate him so much my hips roll again, shamelessly chasing friction.

“Shut up,” I snarl, but it comes out wrecked and breathy.

He laughs against my throat, then bites down hard enough that I know it’ll bruise purple tomorrow. 

His fingers pop my button open one-handed, slide the zipper down.

What the fuck am I doing? Am I really going to allow him touch me? Where anyone can see?

“Nikolai—”

“Say please and I’ll let you come right here against the wall.”

His hand slips inside my jeans, inside my boxers, then wraps around my thick cock, making me choke on air. 

He strokes my dick once, smearing the bead of pre-cum over the head with his thumb.

“Look at you,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Soaked already. You’ve been hard for me since this morning, haven’t you? Since I walked into your little coffee shop and you wanted to climb over the counter and ride my face.”

I whimper. 

I actually fucking whimper.

He squeezes the base of my cock, cutting off the orgasm that’s already clawing up my spine.

“Not yet.” He licks a stripe up my neck. “You come when I say. Or not at all.”

I’m shaking with my thighs trembling, pinned between the cold wall and his burning body.

“Please,” I hear myself say, voice broken. “Please, Nikolai—”

He groans loudly at me begging, then strokes me with fast brutal pulls, twisting on every upstroke until my knees give out completely. 

He holds me up with one arm banded across my lower back, the other jerking me off with ruthless precision.

“Come for me, baby,” he growls against my mouth. “Right now, right fucking here where anyone can walk by and see how pretty you fall apart for me.”

I do.

I come so hard my vision whites out, pulsing thick and hot over his fist, into his palm, dripping down his wrist while I bite his shoulder to muffle my scream. 

He keeps stroking, milking every last shudder out of me until I’m boneless and gasping.

He brings his hand up between us, eyes locked on mine, and slowly licks my cum off his hand, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

He stares into my eyes for a full minute, then walks away like nothing happened. 

What. The. Fuck??