The Wild Mustang & The Dancing Fairy: A Gorgeous Villain Prequel Novella by Saffron Kent (ereader for textbooks .txt) 📗

Wait a second. I’m on his lap.

How did I not notice this before?

My spread thighs, even though covered by my wet dress, rub against his damp jeans and oh my God, it’s glorious, the rough fabric and my smooth skin. And so I squirm again but before I can do it one more time, he stops me.

He physically stops me by putting pressure on my waist and pinning me in one spot, commanding, “Hold on to your dress.”

I frown. “What?”

He glances down at the hem of my dress. “Your dress. Hold on to it.”

I pull at his t-shirt. “Why?”

“Just do it. Now,” he says with clenched teeth, his body pulsing with his words.

I immediately let go of his t-shirt and grab the hem of my dress. He doesn’t like how I’ve done it though, so he lets go of my waist and positions my hands.

He carefully puts my hand —both hands — in between my legs and makes me fist the fabric. And he makes me do it so tightly that my knuckles jut out with the force.

When he’s done, he looks up. “Don’t let me push it up your thighs.”

My heart is banging against my chest. “Why not?”

He licks his lips, his hand flexing over mine. “Because I want to.”

“But I –”

“Because I want to push your dress up and look at your panties. Because I know you’re creaming them right now and I want to see. I want to look at that wet spot and picture you creaming every night for me, up in your bedroom. And if I do that, if I imagine you, then I’m going to lose whatever sanity I have left. You got that? So you’re going to protect her.”

“Roman –”

He lets go of my hands and buries his fingers in my wet hair.

He presses his forehead over mine as he says in a guttural voice, “No, listen to me, you’re going to protect her. From me. You’re going to hold onto your dress and you’re going to guard your pussy. You’re not going to let me push your dress up no matter what I do, what I say. You’re not going to let me see her. Tell me you understand.”

“But –”

“Tell me you understand, Fae.”

It’s the Fae that does it.

It’s the way he says it like a plea.

Like he’s the one who’s begging now.

He’s the one who’s good and I’m the one who’s bad and tormenting him. And I never ever want to do that. I’ve pushed him enough tonight, so I look into his animal eyes that look almost anguished. “If I say yes, will you kiss me then?”

His jaw clenches and he tugs on my hair. “Fuck yes.”

I smile slightly and fist my dress even more tightly. “Okay. I’ll hold on to my dress. I won’t let you push it up. I won’t let you see her. No matter what you say.”

A relieved sigh escapes him then. As big a sigh as the wind around us.

And then he kisses me as he promised.

Something bad is going to happen. On the field, I mean.

I don’t know how I know it but I do.

It’s a feeling that’s been plaguing me ever since last night and somehow has been exacerbated since the championship game started.

So I finally figured out how to attend the game and my own show.

I got to the auditorium way earlier than they asked us to and got ready for my dance before I ran all the way across the school – because my auditorium and his soccer field are on opposite sides of campus from each other – to attend the game with Tempest.

But anyway, here I am, decked out in an ice blue tutu and a white leotard and full-on make-up to look like a fairy, watching the game that’s about to be done in like, ten minutes.

Our team only needs one more goal in order to win and things are looking good. Oh, and if Reed makes this goal, then he’ll not only win the championship but also their contest.

Once and for all.

He’s in the lead right now and he needs this last goal to seal his victory over my brother.

But I feel like something bad is going to happen.

If I’m being honest though, there’s no reason for me to be feeling like this.

No reason at all. Everything is fine actually.

Everything is more than fine.

Because he kissed me. Last night.

He kissed me for a long, long time.

For a little while there I thought he’d never stop.

I thought I’d never stop.

Because when his mouth was on me, drugging me with his warm, wet kisses, I realized that I’d wanted this for so long. I’d wanted this every time he looked at me and every time he said something dirty and made me blush. I’d wanted this every time he brought me cupcakes and gave me a ride in his Mustang.

So yeah, for a little while there, he became my entire world.

Reed Roman Jackson and his mouth and his Mustang with foggy windows.

His Mustang in which I came.

Well, I came on his lap. Twice.

Because he wasn’t happy with just once and wouldn’t stop kissing me or rocking me in his lap. And like the ballerina I am, I danced and writhed as much as he wanted me to.

After two though, I told him to stop, as he predicted days and days ago, and for which I’d practiced like a good girl.

But instead of reminding me that all my practice failed, his gray eyes simply turned all soft and liquid and he kissed me on my sweaty forehead, making me burrow into his chest.

God.

I never ever imagined that he could be so… tender and sweet and just everything.

Anyway, after that I gave him his present.

The one I had in my backpack.

It’s something that I’ve been working on for the past several weeks.

A sweater.

“Because you’re always cold,” I told him, because he always is.

That’s why he wears his hoodies practically all the time.

“And because white’s your