by R Holmes
"Turn around." When I don't follow his command, he spins me around so quick I almost topple over as he fists my hair in an ironclad hold which causes my entire body to come alive. Anger and fear mixed with the traitorous thread of arousal. Part of me is terrified of being at his mercy once more, the other part wants to see just how far he’s willing to go. If he’s willing to threaten my college career, I’m not sure there’s any length he’s not willing to reach. The heat of his hot breath caresses my neck in anything but a warm embrace. My hair stands on end. The air between us is electric and I know remaining on this path, I'm going to end up a casualty in the war that rages on between us.
"Hands on the shelf."
I hate complying with his illicit commands. But, if I don't, I might as well hand him my future on a silver platter addressed to him.
He has a hold on me and I can't break free.
It started because I stole his secret, but now he's stolen my sanity. I’m his, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I could fight all day, I could run, I could hide. But at the end of the day, Rhys is the most detrimental poison in my life. He'll spread through my veins like cyanide.
And death by poison is never the way to die. It suffocates you from the inside, working its way into your lungs until it's wrapped so tightly around them, you'll never breathe again. It invades your body without permission and destroys. You feel the life drain out of you slowly, second by second. I feel it in every breath, he has me in his unyielding hold.
"Now."
I lift my shaking hands and place them on the shelf in front of me. His front is molded to my back, and he kicks my feet apart until I'm spread out in front of him. I'm shaking so bad, I feel like my teeth chatter out my head at any moment.
"You feel that, little lamb? The fear coursing through your body? The adrenaline causing this…" His fist tightens at my nape, pulling my head back, exposing my throat to him. He runs his tongue along the pulse in my neck that beats wildly.
"Is it fear, or is it that the only time in your sad, boring, pathetic life you ever feel alive is when you're with me?"
His other hand comes around to my uniform shirt, the hard calluses of his palm skating over my chest. He fingers the beaded necklace tucked into my uniform shirt.
"Little lamb and her rosary beads…" He dips his hand into my bra and cups me, rolling my sensitive nipple between his fingers. "Or…" I feel his teeth scrape against the nape of my neck, taunting me. Pushing me closer and closer to the edge of sin, willing me to fall into hell right alongside him. The fear I just once felt takes a back seat to the arousal snaking up my spine. My will to fight lessens with each swipe of his tongue on my skin. Rationally, I know it’s wrong, I know it’s completely fucked-up, but at this moment, my brain isn’t functioning the way that it should when he’s working so hard to disarm me.
"Is it because you're scared to admit how much you like to be forced? Pushed around. Used. Does it make you feel like you're less of a nobody?"
He lets go of my hair and takes his hand from my shirt, only to rip it open with a forceful tug, popping the buttons and causing them to fall and scatter on the floor and shelves beneath us.
A gasp escapes my lips before I can stop it, and he chuckles darkly behind me. He yanks my shirt down my back, leaving me exposed and half-naked, wearing just my bra, uniform skirt, stockings, and old Converse. A chill causes me to shiver, and the heat of his body once more finds mine, pressing me against the shelf. Only this time, he bends me at the waist with his powerful hand and pulls my ass back toward him, then presses my face roughly into the shelf. It’s brutal; it’s demeaning. Every nerve ending in my body is alive. I feel every brush of his skin against mine, the smell of the old, stale books. A chill hits me when the warmth of his body isn't pressed against mine. It’s easier now to shut my mind off and allow the inevitable to happen. It’s not as if my tears would stop him, or deter him in any way. He’d only push harder.
I will be the puppet with strings if it means I keep my pride, my reputation, and my future.
Even if this is forbidden. Taboo. A shameful act of sinning not even the ten confessions would forgive.
"Your rosary beads tucked in your shirt like an obedient little slut. Do you feel safe and protected?" His plants a sloppy, wet kiss against the nape of my neck and travels downward, kissing, biting, licking a fiery path down my spine. Unexpected pleasure grips me so hard, I clutch the shelves harder until my knuckles turn white.
His path travels lower and lower until he reaches the waistband of my uniform skirt. His fingers trace the band of my thigh-highs and dip beneath them, stroking and caressing the soft, sensitive skin of my inner thighs. They travel higher and higher until he reaches the lace of my underwear. Suddenly, my skirt is flipped upwards and cool air assaults me. I'm on full display for him. Bent over, and wearing nothing but a tiny scrap of lace which barely covers anything.
I'm ashamed, because with every passing second, I'm hotter. My skin feels like it's on fire. From the tips of my toes all the way up to my hairline, I can feel every sensation, every whisper of touch. This is the only way to protect myself from Rhys Blackwood. To keep my spot at Harvard, to keep my valedictorian status, and not be caught in a scandal. I believe with everything inside of me that he will follow through on this threat. Without a doubt. Instead of folding, I’ll give him what he doesn’t expect. Compliance. Would it deter him from his need to control and demean me? Probably not, but the power would remain in my hands, not his. My body is obviously what he’s after, aside from his petulance to torment me. What if using my body was exactly the weapon to yield in my defense? Beat him at his own game.
Both of his hands find my ass cheeks and he squeezes, and then I feel the sharp sting of his slap. The sound echoes throughout the library in loud waves. I cry out, part pleasure, part pain, but mostly surprise.
"That's for your mouth."
Another hard strike against my now sensitive skin.
"That's for not doing what you're told."
I feel his hands on my inflamed cheeks once more. This time gripping and pulling them apart, opening me up for his viewing. He pulls the lace from my hips with a quick rip, removing them entirely.
This is a different feeling, completely different than any of our prior… entanglements. Tonight, Rhys says less. His actions speak louder than ever. The forceful, brutal touch of his fingers on my skin. The feel of his hot breath as it dances across my skin. He's unlike how I've ever seen him.
His hands squeeze my cheeks, opening me again, and there's a sharp intake of breath. I hear him curse, but it's whispered so low I can't make it out. He uses his thumbs to open me wider.
"Fuck, the prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he says quietly, not meant for me to hear, but I do. I feel powerful with his words. Beautiful. I’m sure he’d rather die before letting me hear those words from him, but lost in the moment, I stole them. I feel him run a single finger from my clit to my asshole, lightly, almost tenderly, then back down to my clit where he rubs tantalizing slow circles. I clench beneath his touch involuntarily, pleasure tormenting my body.
Then, I feel him run his tongue in the same path his finger just took and I'm so shocked, I almost fall over. Rhys is eating me out, bent over a bookshelf in the library.
"Don't get it twisted, little lamb, this is for me and for me only," he says gruffly against my flesh as he begins licking my pussy with ferocity. His tongue flattens against me and he takes long, languid swipes, only pausing to dip inside me and swirl. He moves back down to my clit and all sanity leaves with him. All rational thoughts of how I didn't even want this in the first place are gone.
Replaced by the wanton, frenzied desire to reach the finish line of the race I never entered. Suddenly, my orgasm is the only thing that matters. Using him like he's used me over and over with not a second thought. He presses a single finger inside of me, rubbing the one spot I've barely been able to find on my own, and my legs almost give out beneath me. Too languid, too relax
ed to hold the weight of me any longer.
A door slams from the far end of the library and we both freeze. I pull back some and look over my shoulder at Rhys with wide eyes. He puts his finger to his lips in a "shh" motion, signaling for me to be quiet.
Someone is in the library, and I'm bent over a fucking shelf with a boy who hates me more than anything else in the world.
Great. And I said things couldn't possibly get any worse.
The only reprieve is we're tucked away across the massive building, beside a shelf blanketed by mostly darkness. There's the heavy thud of footsteps still across the library, but the echoes carry them to where we're hiding.
Rhys leans down and whispers in my ear, "And now… it's time for the real punishment, Valentina."
I freeze.
He planned this?
"That person who just walked through those doors? Mr. Miller, the groundskeeper. Sebastian gave him a call to let him know there might be someone trying to sneak into the library tonight. Now, whether we get caught or not is solely on you. I suggest you keep your fucking mouth shut. Consider this the lesson of a lifetime on being a snitch."
He pushes my head back down into the shelf and feasts on my pussy like a fucking king. Sucking, licking, nibbling on my clit like it's his last meal. He doesn't waiver. His one and only goal is to bring me over the edge, to force it out of me whether I want it or not.
I bite my lip to hold back the moan welling at the surface, threatening to spill over.
"Rhys," I whisper, pleading.
It only causes him to insert two fingers and fuck me so hard, I feel my legs quivering and the shelf in front of me shake slightly at the punishing pace he fucks me with both his fingers and his tongue.
A low, breathy moan escapes and Rhys laughs callously against my wetness.
"Who's there?" a voice calls from across the room.
God, I'm going to be expelled.
"I suggest you come against my face, Valentina, or it looks like you'll be caught red-handed," Rhys whispers for only me to hear before he goes back to my pussy and sucks my clit into his mouth.
I feel the edge so close, I want to fall. So close. Too close. I lose track of who's there, or what sounds I'm making, and I must be getting louder by the second, because he stops momentarily, but only to shove something in my mouth.
My panties.
This asshole shoved my lace panties into my mouth to quiet me.
"My one and only reprieve," he whispers and then bites down gently on my clit, while hooking his finger inside of me. My orgasm hits me so hard, I almost black out against the shelf. I shake, clutching the wood hard until I feel like I might break it beneath my hold. The most pleasure I've ever felt in my life hits me with so much force, I cry out and, thankfully, the lace inside my mouth mostly muffles the sound.
He gets up from behind me and I stand quickly, then search for my shirt in the dark, but not before I get a quick look at Rhys. The moonlight shines on him and I catch a glimpse of the wet slickness coating his lips and chin.
My cum is all over his face. I came on his face. I came on Rhys Blackwood’s face.
I'm partly shocked and almost proud, and he looks like he's the big bad wolf about to devour me whole. He rushes over to me and presses my back against the shelf, inserting his middle and index finger deep into my mouth, with my juices still glistening on them, and whispers gruffly in my ear, "Suck."
I do as I'm told for the sake of getting out of here and not getting caught. I suck the juices from my pussy off his fingers while he presses farther and farther into my throat, gagging me with his fingers.
I've never felt so bold or so out of control, so sinful.
He pulls his fingers from my mouth and tosses me my now tattered, useless shirt. I quickly dress and throw my stuff into my bag, and together we leave out of the side door, then take off running toward the dorms. He tosses me a look I can't read, but I know it is filled with fucked-up promises.
“I told you to never underestimate me. Until next time, little lamb.”
My muscles burn from exertion, but I crave the ache I feel inside my calves, back, and stomach. A form of punishment I can inflict on myself. Each time I pull up on the bar, a hissed breath leaves my body, simultaneously trying to release the pent-up anger inside of me and regain the control she’s stolen from me.
Last night, I became the one thing I said I'd never be. Reckless. It was something that will never fucking happen again, and I can blame it all on the siren with the pussy like Aphrodite herself. I was careless. I gave her power she didn't deserve. Valentina Carmichael didn't deserve anything from me and the insatiable hunger I feel inside me has everything to do with her.
The thing about hate is it's fueled by passion. You loathe someone so much, it's coated in the desire to watch them burn, and like the match and the flame, that desire turns into a blaze you can no longer control. It's no longer manipulated by fuel, instead, burning and searing you in the process. My enemy was becoming a deadly flame, covered in accelerant, which would cause us both to combust from the pressure alone.
"Rhys, you grip the damn bar any harder, you're going to snap it clean in half," Alec's voice stirs me from my thoughts.
He and Sebastian are alongside me in the campus gym, lifting weights and bullshitting. Perks of going to a school the size of most universities are the amenities. Having an all-inclusive gym with state-of-the-art equipment is just a plus. The massive building tucked into the very back of campus houses some of the most impressive equipment I've ever seen. St. Augustine is known for our record-breaking hockey team, so they condition their players to perfection. Sebastian spends more time in here and on the ice than anywhere else on campus.
"A little frustrated there, big guy?" Sebastian taunts from the weight bench, giving me his superstar smile.
"Shut the fuck up," I growl.
Hopping down from the pull-up bar, I swipe the plush white hand towel off the rack and wipe the sweat dripping down on to my chest from my face. It's hot as fuck in here.
"Are we going to address the elephant… ahem… lamb in the room?" They both erupt in laughter, and I want to drive my fist through their faces.
I throw the towel at Sebastian's head and he ducks at the last second, letting it fall to the floor behind him. Ignoring his taunts, I lay down on the weight bench in front of the mirror and grip the metal bar above my head.
"Spot me."
Alec puts his barbells down and stands behind my head as I remove the bar from the rack. Two hundred pounds of pure steel power and it's still not enough to drive the frustration from my body. I grit my teeth together so hard, my jaw aches.
"Listen, all fucking with you aside, what's happening with this girl?" Alec asks. Sweat beads on his forehead and slides down his face. He’s more talkative today than usual.
"Nothing's happening. She's a means to an end. Not to mention, she fucked with the wrong people. I'm teaching her a lesson on what it means to be a snitch."
One rep. Then another. I extend the heavy weights over my head, until my biceps burn.
“So, when do I get my turn with her?” I falter a little during a rep, causing the bar to fall slightly, and he grabs it quickly before it can hit me.
“Fuck off. She’s off-limits,” I respond and try to focus on the steel bar in my fists. I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping the barbell until my palms began to ache. Alec grins down at me like a fucking fool.
“Uh-huh, so you’re saying her pussy is yours? Is that what you’re saying?”
My fingers grip the bar so hard my knuckles pop. “Drop it, Alec. Fuck,” I curse. He’s trying me. Trying to get a fucking rise out of me. Usually it’s Sebastian who pushes every goddamn button I have, not Alec.
"Speaking of… Why haven't we heard shit from Ezra? What the fuck is going on?" Sebastian comes to stand over me next to Alec.
"I'm ditching this afternoon and I'm going to his dad’s office. He's avoided all texts and calls. I want to get h
im face to face so he can't fucking deflect. I'm not leaving until I find out what is happening with Ezra."
I place the bar back into the rack and sit up, wiping the sweat from my brow. My arms are like liquid after the high weight reps.
"Such a fucking piece of shit," Sebastian says, throwing a punch at the large bag hanging from chains anchored into the ceiling. "He doesn't give a shit about Ezra, he'll let him rot in there. You know it, I know it, fuck, anyone who knows him knows it."
"Bash, you bleed… I bleed. Our entire lives, it’s been this way. We're his brothers. We'll do whatever it takes to make sure he walks free."
Alec looks down at the concrete floor, exhaling a deep breath. While life goes on around us, we're missing a part of us. Through the hardest, most damning times of our lives, we've had each other. Our brothers. When one bleeds… we all bleed. It's been our motto since the very first day Ezra came to school bruised and broken. He wasn't weak, he was just a fucking kid who was being abused by the person who was supposed to love and protect him. From that day forward, we clung to each other with a desperation only we could understand. As we aged, we got closer, we got stronger, and suddenly our tormentors became the one thing we never feared. We became the feared.
The Kings of St. Augustine. Each one different in our own, fucked-up way.
"How about you tell me why you've been a moody motherfucker for the past week. Got anything to do with Teach?"
He scowls when I mention her. His nostrils flare and he looks away. "Nothin’ to talk about. It's done."
Right, just like I'm done torturing the little lamb. Not even fucking close.
"Calling bullshit on that, but you gonna keep it from your brothers?" Alec asks. He’s right, Sebastian has been overly secretive lately.
"She was a piece of pussy; nothing more, nothing less. Warm place to stick my cock inside when I was horny."
His words say one thing, but his demeanor says another.
Closed off, quiet, moody as fuck.
Known him my whole life and probably better than he knows himself. He's fucking pissed, and the teacher is the one who caused it. One thing I've learned about him is, like me, he doesn't like to be pushed. When he's ready to talk, he will.
