After The Bell Rings

Chapter Eleven -One Step At A Time

Nick’s POV

She left the door unlocked.

That said everything.

I didn’t even have to knock—just pushed it open and stepped inside. Her dorm was dimly lit, quiet except for the hum of the AC, and she stood there in the middle of the room, frozen.

I closed the door behind me with a click.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” she said.

“I wasn’t,” I replied flatly, walking toward her. “Then I remembered the look on your face when you left.”

She looked down, her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her oversized T-shirt. “I didn’t think you’d—”

“Shh.” I stopped in front of her, inches away. “You wanted me. I’m here.”

Her breath hitched when I cupped her jaw, tilting her face up. She was trembling, just like I expected. I let my thumb drag across her lower lip, slow and deliberate.

“I told you this wouldn’t be soft,” I said. “But tonight… I’ll go slow.”

Her lips parted. “Why?”

I leaned in, brushing my mouth against hers. “Because you’re not ready. And I don’t take what isn’t prepared to be ruined.”

She gasped at that, but didn’t pull away when I kissed her—deep and slow and full of things she didn’t know how to name yet. She melted under me with a desperation that made me curse internally. I could take her now. She wouldn’t stop me. But that wasn’t the point.

I wanted her ruined, yes.

But only when she begged for it.

Only when she needed it more than air.

I backed her into the bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she sank onto it without a word. I followed, one knee between hers, crowding her space until she laid back, hair spread like ink on the pillow.

Her shirt had ridden up, exposing pale skin and the faintest outline of lace underneath.

“You wore this for me?” I asked, brushing my fingers up her inner thigh.

She nodded.

“Good girl.”

Her eyes fluttered shut when I kissed her again, deeper this time, and let my hand trail under the shirt, over her stomach, up to her breasts. She whimpered when my fingers brushed over her lace-covered n*****s, and arched into my touch.

I teased her until she was panting, her thighs shifting restlessly under me. Then I slid my hand down—slow, slow, down the front of her panties—until I felt the heat between her legs.

“Already this wet?” I murmured, lips brushing her ear. “You’ve been like this since class, haven’t you?”

She moaned in response, barely able to speak.

I slid one finger through her folds, teasing the slickness there, then circled her c**t until she was trembling. Her hips bucked against my hand, but I held her down with my other arm.

When I slid one finger inside her, she gasped.

“Relax,” I whispered. “You’re tight. So f*****g tight.”

She did try. Her body fought it at first, and I waited, watched her face as she adjusted. Only when she started moving her hips did I add another finger, stretching her slowly.

The way she responded—how she moaned, gasped, clawed at the sheets—I knew it was taking everything in her not to fall apart too soon.

“Let go,” I told her, curling my fingers just right. “Come for me, Olivia.”

And she did.

With a soft cry and a full-body shudder, her release hit her like a wave. I didn’t stop moving my fingers until she was whimpering, overstimulated and squirming under my hand.

When I finally pulled back, I looked at her—flushed, breathless, dazed.

“You’re not ready for more,” I said simply. “Not yet.”

“But—”

“Next time,” I said firmly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. “I’ll ruin you properly next time.”

She nodded slowly, eyes still half-lidded, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

And I stayed there, hovering over her for a moment longer, staring at the girl who had no idea what she’d just given me.

Control.

Not of her.

Of myself.