Chapter 133

Alison’s POV

The headmaster’s office door slams behind Crew, his broad shoulders rigid, his fury a palpable heat that sets my skin ablaze as I leap from my chair, my heels clicking on the polished floor. My heart races, my golden hair swinging, my blazer tight against my curves, my skirt a teasing whisper on my thighs.

Crew’s cold dismissal—“I’m with Lily” and refusal to look at me—stings, but it only fuels my fire. He’s mine to reclaim, his cock, his heart, the wild nights we shared before I fucked it up with Javier. Lily’s soft innocence is a frail barrier I’ll shatter, and this tutoring setup is my chance, a trap I orchestrated before using Andrews. I chase him into the hallway, my pulse pounding, my pussy already tingling, the thrill of fucking him intoxicating. He’s storming away, but I won’t let him escape—not now, not ever.

“Crew, wait!” I call my voice a lure, echoing in the empty corridor. He doesn’t slow, his boots heavy, his anger a wall, but I’m faster, my legs closing the gap, my hand grazing his arm, catching his sleeve. He spins, his blue eyes blazing, dark and dangerous, and my core clenches, desire surging at his intensity, the memory of his hands on my ass, his cock deep, making me burn.

“Don’t run from me,” I say slowly, stepping close, my body inches from his, my breath hot, my blazer parting to tease cleavage. “This tutoring thing—it’ll be fun, Crew. Just you and me, alone, like old times.” I lick my lips, my voice low, promising, my hand sliding up his chest, feeling his heartbeat, fast, angry, but alive under my touch.

He grabs my wrist, his grip hard, almost painful, as he yanks my hand away, his voice a low growl. “Get the fuck off me, Alison.” His eyes cut through me, cold, unyielding, and my stomach twists, but I press closer, my hips brushing his, my pussy throbbing, undeterred.

“You’re annoying as hell,” he snaps, his words venomous, “and you’ve been since I saw that gardener’s son fucking your ass off on your bed.”

The memory hits like a slap—last summer, my eighteenth birthday, Javier, the gardener’s son, his cock pounding me, my ass up, my moans loud, unaware Crew was outside my bedroom, watching, his heart breaking. I didn’t know he saw, didn’t know he’d planned a surprise. My breath catches, guilt flickering, but I bury it, my smirk defiant, my determination a weapon. “That was a mistake,” I say, my voice soft, seductive, my hand reaching for him again, grazing his jaw. “You’re what I want, Crew. Not him. Let me show you—during tutoring, I’ll make you forget her, fuck you until you’re mine again.” I lean in, my lips hovering, my perfume—jasmine and musk—wrapping around him, my pussy wet, aching for his surrender.

He shoves me back, not hard but firm, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes blazing with disgust. “You’re pathetic,” he snarls, his voice raw, cutting deep. “I saw you, Alison—your ass in the air, taking him, loving it. You broke me, and now you think you can flirt, touch me, and I’ll fall back? I’m with Lily. She’s real, not a fucking game like you.” His words are whipping, lashing my pride, my heart, and I flinch, my smirk fading, pain mixing with desire, his rejection a fire I can’t quench.

“Crew, please,” I beg, my voice cracking, desperation spilling as I grab his jacket, my nails digging, my eyes burning. “Don’t do this. I know I fucked up, but I need you. Tutoring’s our chance—let me prove it, let me fuck you like before, make you feel alive.” My body pressing against his, my tits brushing his chest, my thigh nudging his, feeling his cock, half-hard despite his anger, a spark I cling to. “You can’t deny us,” I whisper, my lips near his, daring, my pussy pulsing, imagining him pinning me, fucking me raw, Lily forgotten.

He breaks free, stepping back, his face a storm, his voice rough. “You’re nothing to me,” he says, each word a blade. “Stay the fuck away, Alison. I love Lily, not you. Never you.” He turns, storming off, his steps heavy, final, leaving me trembling, my chest heaving, my body alive but my heart fracturing. His love for her, his hate for me, is a wound I didn’t expect, and I hate him for it, hate her, hate myself for still wanting him, my pussy wet, my desire a curse.

“Crew!” I shout, my voice raw, echoing, a last, desperate plea. “You’ll want me! I’ll make you!” My words are a vow, a scream, my body shaking, my nipples hard, my panties soaked with rage and need. He doesn’t look back, his figure fading, and I’m left against the wall, my breath ragged, my mind a chaos of hurt and resolve. Lily’s his now, her shy love a chain I’ll break, her inexperience my weapon. I think of her red-rimmed eyes, her hurried exit, and smirk—she’s weak, crumbling, while I’m a storm, unstoppable.

I remember Fig, his texts—“Need you again”—his cock pounding me in the bathroom, the car, a release I used to sate my hunger. He’s a toy, but Crew’s the prize, his intensity, his love, a fire I’ll steal. Tutoring’s my chance—alone with him, my lips on his neck, my hand on his cock, his resolve crumbling as I fuck him, Lily’s claim dust. I imagine it, his thrusts, my moans, his surrender, and my pussy clenches, my body alive, the chase a thrill.

I push off the wall, my walk deliberate, my skirt swaying, my body a weapon. My focus on Crew, on breaking him. Lily’s a shadow, her love fragile, while I’m fire, untouchable. I’ll corner him during tutoring, my breath in his ear, my body close, and he’ll crack, his cock hard, his loyalty gone. Fig can wait, his lust a leash I’ll pull when I need it, but Crew’s my obsession, my heart’s target. I’ll have him, fuck him, own him, no matter the cost, no matter who burns.