Chapter 1: Passion in the Dorm
The door clicked shut and Mukul had her against it before the deadbolt finished sliding home. His mouth was on hers, all heat and whiskey and that particular taste that was just him. Chloe melted into it, her backpack thudding to the floor as her hands fisted in his dark hair.
“Missed you,” he muttered against her lips, his hands already under her shirt, sliding up the warm skin of her back.
“You saw me six hours ago,” she gasped, arching into him.
“Too long.” He hauled her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried her like she weighed nothing, the muscles in his forearms corded and tight. The dim room was a blur of strewn textbooks and soft, golden light from the desk lamp.
He dropped her onto the unmade bed, following her down without breaking the kiss. The scent of their mingled excitement, the vanilla candle, and last night’s spilled coffee filled the air. His fingers made quick work of her shirt buttons, parting the fabric to reveal the simple black lace of her bra. He palmed her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple already hard beneath the lace.
“These are fucking perfect,” he groaned, leaning down to take the peak into his mouth through the fabric, sucking hard until she cried out.
She pushed at his shoulders. “Off. All of it. Now.”
He complied, yanking her bra off and tossing it across the room. His mouth was on her again, wet and hot, his tongue circling one taut nipple while his fingers pinched and rolled the other. A sharp, sweet ache shot straight to her core, making her thighs clench. She scrabbled at his jeans, popping the button, shoving them down over his hips.
He kicked them off, and there he was, thick and heavy and already leaking for her. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking the hard, velvety length, her thumb smearing the bead of moisture at the tip. He hissed, his hips jerking forward.
“Tease,” he accused, his voice rough.
“You started it,” she breathed, guiding him toward her.
But he pulled back. “Not yet.” He shoved her skirt up around her waist, his eyes darkening at the sight of her damp cotton panties. He hooked his fingers in the sides and tore them down her legs with a sharp rip. The sound was obscene. It made her wetter.
He pushed her thighs apart, his gaze locked on her. “Look at you. So fucking pretty and all for me.”
He didn’t use his fingers. He went down on her like a man starved, his tongue laying a broad, flat stroke up her slit. Chloe’s head slammed back against the pillows, a ragged moan tearing from her throat. He licked into her, deep and messy, then zeroed in on her clit, circling it with a relentless, perfect pressure. His hands held her hips down, keeping her from bucking right off the bed.
“Mukul…god…right there, don’t stop…”
He didn’t. He fucked her with his tongue, then sucked her clit between his lips, applying just the right amount of gentle, rhythmic suction. The coil in her belly wound tighter and tighter, a screaming tension. She was babbling, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The world narrowed to the wet, hot feeling of his mouth and the frantic pounding of her own heart.
She came with a shattered cry, her body bowing off the bed as waves of pure sensation ripped through her. He didn’t let up, licking her through it, gentling his strokes until she was a trembling, oversensitive mess.
He crawled up her body, his cock, thick and impressive, nudging against her inner thigh. He kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. It was filthy and intimate. She kissed him back greedily.
“Need you,” she panted, reaching between them. “Now. All of it.”
He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock pressing against her entrance. He was big, always a stretch, and she reveled in that first burning second of fullness. He pushed in slowly, an inch, then two, letting her adjust.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his forehead damp against hers.
“You feel so good,” she whispered. “So fucking big. Give me everything.”
He snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one deep, devastating thrust. The air left her lungs in a whoosh. He didn’t wait, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, setting a punishing, deep rhythm that had the bedframe slamming against the wall.
Each thrust was a jolt of pure pleasure. She met him stroke for stroke, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his back. The sounds were lewd—skin slapping against skin, their mingled grunts and moans, the creak of the cheap dorm mattress.
“Whose pussy is this?” he growled, his pace relentless.
“Yours!” she cried.
“Damn right.” He shifted angle, hitting a spot that made her see stars. “Come again. Come on my cock.”
He reached between them, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing tight, rough circles. It was too much, too soon after the first, but her body obeyed him instantly. Another orgasm detonated, tighter and deeper than the first, milking his cock as he hammered into her.
With a final, broken groan, he buried himself deep and came, his whole body shuddering. She felt the hot, pulsing release inside her, and the sensation dragged a last, weak shudder from her own spent body.
He collapsed on top of her, heavy and sweaty and perfect. For a long time, the only sound was their ragged breathing slowing, syncing up.
Eventually, he rolled off, pulling her against his side. He nuzzled her hair. “Love you, Chlo.”
“Love you more,” she murmured, trailing her fingers through the dark hair on his chest.
He was asleep in minutes, his breathing deep and even. Chloe lay in the circle of his arm, the warm afterglow clinging to her skin. She watched the shadows from the desk lamp play on the ceiling.
Her gaze drifted to the nightstand, to the half-empty bottle of whiskey. Then to the window, to the distant lights of other dorms, other rooms where other things were happening. A restless, hollow feeling bloomed in her chest, right beside the contentment. It was a new feeling. It itched.
Across campus, in a spotlessly clean bathroom that smelled of bleach and jasmine perfume, Jenny Yamada had Tavi Chen bent over the porcelain sink. Tavi’s ebony hair was a mess against the white basin, her skirt shoved up around her waist.
“You’re so wet for me already,” Jenny whispered in Japanese, her fingers sliding deep inside Tavi from behind. “Such a greedy little thing.”
Tavi moaned, pushing back against Jenny’s hand. “Yes… please…”
Jenny added a second finger, stretching her, curling them just so. “Say it again.”
“Make me your slut,” Tavi gasped, her eyes squeezed shut.
Jenny smiled, a sharp, predatory thing in the mirror’s reflection. She picked up the pace, her other hand tangling in Tavi’s hair, pulling just enough to sting. Tavi’s cries echoed off the tiles, a sharp counterpoint to the distant sound of a shower running somewhere down the hall.
In her dorm room, Chloe closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. The echo of her own screams, the phantom feel of Mukul inside her, lingered. But so did that new, restless emptiness. She listened to Mukul breathe, her boyfriend, the love of her life, and wondered why it suddenly felt like the air in the room was too thin. The whiskey bottle glinted, empty promise catching the low light. She stared at it until her eyes burned.