Cade Ashford | Ravensbrook Sentinels

"Bro, move her up a little, my legs are fucking numb."

Cade leaned back against the couch, one forearm draped over the backrest while holding his phone with the other. Some pathetic girl knelt between his spread thighs on the rug; her mascara had streaked under her eyes, drool and spit slicked his shaft and dripped down her chin. Nolan was behind her, keeping her bent with one hand flat on her hip, while the other gripped her hip.

Nolan slammed back into her, making her body jolt. "Shut up, princess, you're the one sitting down," he said with a rough, but amused, breath. "I'm doing the cardio."

Cade snorted, thumb flicking through Instagram. Each thrust coming from his friend forced the bitch forward, making her gag around his cock.

"Yeah, well, my cardio's later," he said. "Got that stupid tutoring shit."

Nolan snorted. "Oh yeah. Your grade-saver bitch."

"Haven't even met her yet," His thumb scrolled up, by passing stories. "Coach just sent some email. 'Mandatory tutoring or you sit on the bench,' blah blah. Old fuck's obsessed with me writing about supply and demand or some shit."

The girl whimpered around Cade's cock when Nolan changed angle and drove in harder. The sound made his gaze snap from his device, down to her messy face. One hand went to the back of her head, guiding her lazily. His touch was patronizing, almost.

"Quit fucking whining," he muttered to her. "It’s your first time sucking a dick or what?"

She made a sound—maybe some bitch-ass feminine protest he didn’t care about—and Cade tuned her out in favor of returning to his phone.

(Instagram model with big tits liking his post. Boot lickers begging for attention in his comments. A typical Thursday.)

"You even know her name?"

"Nope. Don’t care. She’s getting, what, fifty bucks an hour outta the school for babysitting?"

"Watch her be some weird tryhard," Nolan said. "Like... honor roll, planner stickers, virgin-ass energy."

"Perfect," the sarcasm was thick in his voice. "Exactly what I needed—some dweeb on a power trip." He smirked at his screen. "Bet she's ugly, though. Admin hates me."

The girl’s throat clenched around him when Nolan hit a rhythm that made the couch shake. It made him hiss in return, his finger tightening in the girl’s hair and shoved her all the way down.

Nose mashed to his pubes, throat spasming around his dick, the sight filled Cade with a sense of rightness. Yeah, that’s where you belong. Choking on my shaft.

"Stay," Cade muttered.

Her hands scrabbled weakly at his thighs. Nolan’s rhythm stuttered behind her. "Bro, you gonna let her breathe or...?"

Cade snorted, finally dragging her back. His cock slid out of her mouth with a wet pop, a thick string of spit and precum hanging from his pierced tip to her bottom lip. Her eyes had gone red, streaks of mascara making her looking like a fucked up raccoon, her breathing ragged.

He slapped his slick shaft against her cheek twice, just to be an ass about it. "Open."

Like the good slut she was, she obeyed—Cade stroked himself once, twice, before cumming all over her pretty face.

His grin sharpened. "That’s it, good fucking girl. See, not too hard, huh?"

He stood, tucking himself back into his sweats, not bothering with cleaning himself up—if he smelled like sex, then he smelled like sex. What would his tutor do? Scorn him? Right.

"Text me if she’s hot," Nolan called out as Cade moved away. "I’ll need a tutor too."

"Get your own, parasite."

Cade snagged his backpack from the floor, shoved his laptop in without zipping the sleeve, and headed out of the frat’s common room.

---

Arkwright’s lobby was too polished and academic for his tastes—very romantic gothic or whatever bullshit girls said on Tiktok. It was almost insulting to be associated with that University but hey, it still had prestige.

(It’d look nice on his resume, or whatever his father had said when he’d convince him to attend.)

The Academic Support Center sat tucked behind glass panels, a reception desk with a tired grad student behind it, typing like she wanted to murder the keyboard. Same, girl. Same. Armed of all his charm and sporting the tootiest of grins, Cade leaned on the counter. "Yo. I’m supposed to have some tutor. Econ. Ashford."

The receptionist blinked up at him. At first, she had that bored expression that told him she’d been there longer than she had wanted, and was probably expecting another wannabe bootlicker to ask for a study room.

But then her eyes widened when she recognized him—who wouldn’t know who he was, right?—and she straightened her posture. "Right, um—Cade Ashford. You’re in Room 3B. Your tutor checked in already."

"She’s early?" He huffed a short laugh. "Tryhard."

Fucking ew.

He pushed through the short hallway, past half-open doors where other students hunched over textbooks with their own academic babysitters. Room 3B’s door was closed; a thin strip of light cut under it onto the carpet, letting him know his tormentor—urm, tutor—was behind and waiting for him.

Cade didn’t announce himself—one hand wrapped around the handle, then he opened the door, stepping inside. It was small, with one rectangular table, two cheap padded chairs, and a whiteboard that had seen better days.

He wrapped his hand around the handle, paused for half a second, then shoved it down and shouldered inside without knocking.

(Disgusting. That should be a crime against humanity. A crime against him, really. Having to be seen there, amongst the regular joes and poor bitches.)

And her. Already there. Already set up.

A laptop open, a notebook aligned with stupid precision—and was that highlighted notes he could see? Damn, they truly did put him up with some goodie-two-shoes.

The door closed behind him. Cade let his backpack land on the floor with no ceremony, before dropping in the cheap chair. It creaked under his weight, but that didn’t stop him from spreading his legs apart, taking up all the space.

"Wow," he said, dragging the word out. His eyes did a slow, unapologetic pass over her—hair, mouth, the line of her shoulders, what she was wearing, how it fit. Another pass, slower, as if praising her value as a human being. "They really scraping the bottom of the nerd barrel this year, huh?"

Not too bad. Maybe a solid... six. Seven if he felt generous.

"So. You’re my little grade-saver." His mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Alright, teach—dazzle me with your knowledge."