Alex pushed her further, coaxing sounds beyond whispers, urging her towards a normal volume.
Until finally, at the most critical moments, his large hand would press firmly but gently over her mouth. Leaning close, nibbling her earlobe, his hot breath ghosted against her skin as he whispered, “Shh! Don’t make a sound… They’ll hear.”
This intense exchange continued until well after eleven.
By now, the corridor outside was completely silent; the student chatter had long faded. Inside the room, an echoing quiet settled, broken only by the sound of harsh, ragged breathing—his and hers—the raw aftermath of their encounter.
Alex headed straight for the bathroom to shower.
He knew the layout of these University dorms perfectly, thanks to his many visits to Sera’s room.
Having a private bathroom was undeniably convenient; no awkward trips down the hall.
Riley, however, remained huddled on the bed, pulling the blanket tightly around herself until only the top of her head was visible. She flatly refused his suggestion to shower together.
She felt lost in the strange, echoing aftermath, her body still humming with lingering sensations.
She couldn’t help but wonder where Alex found such boundless energy. He seemed tireless. He’d held her, lifted her, seemingly without effort for so long, and afterwards, apart from slightly heavier breathing, he showed no sign of strain.
She, in complete contrast, felt utterly drained. Every muscle seemed to have melted; her body felt weak and boneless, like soft jelly.
“Always the same,” she thought, the idea drifting vaguely through her exhaustion.
….
“Just like in those romance novels,” Riley thought, burying herself deeper under the blanket. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she struggled to catch her breath.
Trying to stay silent had been impossible—harder than last time in the hospital stairwell.
Maybe Alex was just getting better at this, more experienced. It seemed the harder she fought to keep quiet, the easier it was for him to read her body’s responses through every shift in her breathing, every tiny sound she made.
It felt like he knew exactly how she was reacting, giving him complete control almost effortlessly.
Riley realized, with a jolt, that for a while there, she’d forgotten everything – her grandmother lying sick in the hospital, every single one of her daily worries, the crucial fact that this was a women’s dormitory, surrounded by other students right outside the door and in the next room.
And that moment when Alex had covered her mouth… hearing his low whisper in one ear while the sounds of oblivious girls chatting and laughing drifted in from the hallway… the sheer forbiddenness of it all had crashed over her harder than ever, pushing the intense sensations to a dizzying new peak.
Even now, with it all over, she felt shaky, still lost in the aftershocks.
When Alex stepped out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, he noticed the way her backside was still arched high beneath the blanket.
A small smirk touched his lips; did this supposedly innocent girl have any clue how incredibly tempting she looked right now?
He walked over to the bed and gave her blanket-covered rear a light, deliberate pat. “Alright, up you go. Your turn to shower.”
“Turn around first,” came Riley’s muffled, shy voice from beneath the covers.
“Okay,” Alex agreed easily, turning his back. He was in that phase of cool detachment that followed, desire momentarily quieted.
As the sound of the shower started up in the small bathroom, Alex stretched out on the bed and picked up his phone, opening a video Mr. Waters had sent earlier.
It was grainy footage from a hidden camera, starring none other than Eric Vaughn, the so-called ‘Son of Fortune’.
Eric had been careful to avoid the obvious security cameras, but Alex, anticipating his little rescue mission tonight, had naturally arranged for some less conspicuous surveillance.
The video showed Eric Vaughn creeping awkwardly up a flight of stairs, clutching what were clearly bags of medical waste, colostomy and urine bags. He looked utterly absurd.
The hidden cams weren’t cheap, but the image was sharp, almost high-definition despite the poor lighting.
As Eric finished doing whatever he was there for (something with needles, it looked like) and started back down with the repulsive bags, Alex saw it clearly: the bandages wrapped around Eric’s own backside were soaked through with dark red, and telltale streaks of yellowish fluid stained the gauze.
Ugh. A wave of revulsion washed over Alex. He tossed the phone onto the bedside table, disgusted.
Five minutes later, the bathroom door creaked open. Riley emerged, damp from her shower, and once again wearing that daringly cut white shirt.
She’d actually paused in the bathroom, torn for a moment. Logically, she should have changed back into her own plain, conservative pajamas.
But she couldn’t forget that Alex had chosen this shirt specifically for her, how insistent he’d been that she wear it before… and how his eyes had lit up with obvious excitement when she did.
‘He must really, really like seeing me in this,’ she’d concluded.
So, after drying off, almost compelled by an impulse she didn’t quite understand, she hadn’t reached for her safe pink-and-white sleepwear.
Instead, she’d slipped back into the white shirt he’d discarded earlier, now retrieved from the balcony, pairing it with tiny shorts that were barely more substantial than underwear.
Alex watched her stand by the bed, gently toweling her dark hair. He patted the space on the mattress beside him wordlessly.
Riley pouted slightly. “That’s my bed.”
Despite her token protest, she slid under the covers, allowing him to draw her close against his side. Just as she settled, a low rumble broke the quiet—the unmistakable sound of Alexs’ stomach growling.
“Are you hungry?” she asked softly and shy.
“Starving,” he confirmed, nodding. The large hand resting casually on her waist began to slide upwards, fingers playfully brushing against her ribs in a way that hinted he might just take a bite out of her body.