by Lindsey Iler
At lunch time, Breaker jogs up next to me as I open the cafeteria doors.
“Have you seen Delaney at all this morning?” he asks, spinning around to block my path.
“No, but I’m sure there’s a good reason why.” I stop trying to get around him and glare. “Will you please move out of my way? I’m starving, not to mention, I’ve had a shitty morning.”
“I’ll get out of your way, but I need you to remember, he’s playing a part. Quinn is the closest link to Dillon, and if what Reagan says is true, then he’s our in.”
I’ve barely identified the words Breaker is using when I see Quinn wrapped around Marek like a fucking spider monkey. Marek knows I’m in the room. He shifts, pretending to stretch while boring his eyes into me.
“Down, kitty,” Breaker whispers.
I grip the strap of my backpack, ready to throw it across the room with intent to knock a certain blonde on her ass where she belongs. As I head towards their table, Breaker’s hand presses on my chest.
“Not a good idea,” he warns.
“Oh, come on, Dad. Let me have some fun, at least.” I flip my hair in his direction and blink like a helpless puppy wanting attention.
“Call me daddy, and I’ll say yes,” he jokes.
“Okay, Daddy.” I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, knowing damn well Marek is watching.
“You’re shameless,” Breaker says.
I flash him a quick smile, then set my eyes on Marek. He stands, attempting to meet me before I get to them. Quinn is all but forgotten. I’m quicker than him, though, and press my hands onto his shoulders, forcing him to sit. Everyone at the table watches as I move my mouth to his ear.
Through my eyelashes, I look at Dixon, who’s trying like hell not to smile. So much so, he shoves his sandwich into his mouth and chews.
“What do you want, Palmer? Didn’t you get enough abuse already, or is that your kink?” I can’t see his face, but I suspect there’s a forced scowl in place.
“Actually, you and I both know what my kink is.” I glide my right hand down his chest, lowering it until I feel the cool metal of his belt.
I toy with him for a beat, working my way past his waistband.
“Oh, hell yeah,” one of the guys next to Marek mutters, succeeding in annoying Marek beyond belief.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Marek’s hand wraps around my wrist the second my fingers slip inside his dress slacks.
“I would,” I continue, finding him bare underneath. “If I were to guess, you did that on purpose.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Palmer,” Marek barks.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” I bite his earlobe. “Fucking with you.” He groans when I take my hand off his dick, angry to no longer feel my skin against his.
“Are you that desperate?” Quinn shoves me away from Marek.
“Let’s not forget, you hate me because you want to be me.” I laugh in Quinn’s face, then turn my attention to Marek. “And you hate me, because no piece of trash like Quinn Herrington will ever satisfy you like I do.”
With that, I leave.
I’m opening the door when Marek says, “Time to teach this bitch a lesson.” There’s a warm pressure on my back. “Keep walking.”
I hide a grin, loving the feel of him against me. His anger is practically rolling off him. Once we are a few buildings away, he jerks my arm behind me, taking control of what my body does and doesn’t do.
With one quick push, my chest meets the brick wall.
“I hate pretending to hate you,” Marek whispers against my ear. His movements are sloppy and uncontrolled. My boy is eager, and eager is my favorite version of him.
“Oh, yeah, because you look like you’re having fun now.”
“What you did wasn’t a good idea.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I being punished?” I bat my eyelashes at him, licking the length of my bottom lip.
“Spread your legs,” he demands, kicking at my feet.
“Gladly.” I bend purposefully at the hip, sticking my ass right into his dick. “Should I remove them, or would you rather—”
My skirt is lifted, and the fabric of my thong is torn away from my body. I grin, knowing damn well he loves nothing more than having the control. His fingers run up my seam, painting a circle around my clit. He continues in the same route, touching parts of me only he knows how to satisfy.
I wiggle into his touch, and in response, his chest pushes me into the wall.
“How’s this going to go?” The gravel in his voice sets my blood on fire.
“Fuck me like you hate me.” With my answer, his large hand wraps around my neck, applying the pressure he knows I live for.
I’m spun around, picked up like I weigh nothing. None too gently, my spine hits the brick, and he grins as my legs wrap around him. His hips pin me while he reaches between us to unhook his belt, lowering his pants enough to free himself.
“Fuck you like I hate you, right?” Marek asking for permission is an aphrodisiac. He smirks like a spoiled man, knowing I’ve handed him exactly what he likes. His hips shift, and he fills me in seconds, allowing me a simple breath to adjust before he attempts to puncture my cervix.
“Jesus!” I wrap one arm around him and shift the other above my head, preparing to hold on for the duration of this ride.
With every thrust, the brick scratches my skin through my shirt. I invite the pain, grabbing Marek’s face to drag his lips to mine to mask my moans. Our passion gets lost between us, unaware of where it starts, or if there will ever be an end to this moment.
“Baby,” Marek whispers in my ear, kissing down the side of my neck.
“You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” I claw at him.
Marek slows the roll of his hips. “Don’t pretend that any other guy will ever put his cock in you.” His left hand collects both of mine, pinning them above my head in a tight hold. “Say it, Palmer. Now.”
“Bossy Marek makes me so turned on.” I’m poking the bear, and I’ve never felt more pleased with myself.
He releases his other hand, pressing it firmly against my throat. “Say it.”
I twist my neck, loving the feel of him tightening his hand to remind me who’s in charge. “Just your cock, Marek.”
At my declaration, Marek lets go of my throat and hands, gripping my hips to change the depth he reaches inside of me. A mixture of moans of pleasure and ecstasy wind around us.
“Fuck’s sake!” Breaker spins around, pretending to shield his eyes, while keeping cover for us. “You two are lucky it’s only me catching you.”
“It’s called a hate fuck, Break,” I say.
“That may work by the aggressive nature in which you two like to fuck, but eyes don’t lie, and your eyes scream something completely different.” He glances at us, seeing Marek very much balls deep inside me. “You didn’t even stop, did you? You let me stand there with you two horny assholes still fucking.”
Marek releases me, and I slink down, finding my footing. He pays extra attention to my uniform, making sure the skirt isn’t a mess, while I button my blouse.
“You two are fucking animals,” Breaker groans.
“Thanks for keeping watch,” I say as I walk away, a little more pep in my attitude than ten minutes earlier. “And thanks for the quickie.” I spin and wink.
I’m halfway across the quad when my phone dings in my bag. When I take it out, Marek’s name is on the screen.
Marek: I don’t think I can keep this going for much longer.
I type out a response, but instead of sending it, decide to stuff my phone in my pocket. A sense of vindication and pleasure takes over, forcing a smile onto my lips.
“You’ll pay for that!” Marek yells across the quad. I catch a glimpse of his amused smile before he turns away.
My attention darts around the open, grassy sections of the space. I remember sitting here with Reed, my first year of high school. She said it had the best vantage point on campus. Sinc
e we’re in the middle of winter, no one hangs out here anymore, only stopping to chat for a few quick minutes before and between classes.
Lucky for Marek, his admiration disguised as hatred slip-up isn’t seen by anyone. As much as I hate being his preferred punching bag, there’s a sickness inside of me which finds nothing but pleasure from what we have going on.
A couple hours of therapy, and I’d have a diagnosis for some psychiatric dismemberment inside my brain. I’m a stone’s throw away from having some sort of Stockholm syndrome.
I’m in love with my tormenter.
What does that say about me?
But to play devil’s advocate, he has his reasons.
“Holy hell!” I shake my head, glancing down at the cement as I walk to my next class. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Oh, that’s no way to talk to yourself.”
“Worry about yourself.” I catch Henry staring right at my ass. “Do you mind? I’m barely eighteen.”
“Eighteen is all I need to know. Whether today was your birthday, or it was in the last six months, all I need to know is lucky number eighteen.” He takes long strides, circling my body twice, making me dizzy, which, with every passing second, I believe is the whole point.
“What do you want, Henry?” I dart around his body, heading towards the history building.
“Heard Marek’s been giving you a hard time.” At the mention of Marek, I stop and turn towards him. Maybe our little show is actually working. “And I just want you to know that if you need anything, you can always come to me.”
“You’re the last person I would be going to,” I bark.
“Oh, come on, now.” He grabs my arm, light enough I could get away, but strong enough to show me what he’s capable of. “Don’t be like that.”
“I really should be getting to class.” I point behind me, but his hold throws me off balance. I trip over my own feet and stumble against the row of decorative bricks along the sidewalk. As my body hurls forward, two hands wrap around my waist, catching me before I smash into the harsh concrete.
“I think you heard the girl.” There’s a long, pregnant pause.
I come face-to-face with Dillon and shuffle backwards to escape his touch.
“The conversation is over.” Henry holds his hands up in defense.
“Have you two met?” I interject, pointing between them. Their eyes avoid each other, but it would take an idiot not to notice their established rapport. When neither speak, but both glance at me, I realize what kind of masterminds I’m dealing with. “Dillon Johnson, this is Henry Lexington, Marek’s godfather.”
They reach their hands out at the same time, pretending to be oblivious.
Unable to control myself, I groan. “You two idiots are dumber than I thought.”
I leave them staring at each other in the middle of the courtyard. Unsure of what kind of chaos I’ve just created, I hurry away. I imagine them standing together, like the bag of dicks they are, chatting about how to keep their hands clean from bloodshed on campus.
Chapter Seventeen
Marek
“I don’t understand the two of you,” Dixon says. His eyes drift to the opposite side of the lunchroom.
It’s been two days since the run-in with Palmer in the cafeteria, where she forced me to walk out with her, undermining our little secret. If we want this to work, no one can know the truth, but every time we are in front of each other, we somehow almost always let our masks slip.
Like today when Palmer came waltzing in, a special sway to her hips, knowing damn well I had to play nice. The girl can turn heads but has no idea of the appeal she has to the boys on campus. She may not see their eyes, but I sure as hell do.
Palmer sits alone in a booth, crossing her black, knee-high clad legs. When she knows I’m looking at her, she uncrosses them, spreading them just enough to make my jaw grow slack.
“What’s there to understand?” I flip the lid on my water bottle, over and over, frustrated with having to sit here, watching my girl by herself. “We aren’t meant to be understood.”
“Yeah, but you know what I mean?” He snatches the bottle from me, tucking it under his arm, forcing my eyes to him. “You two, you’re just . . .”
“Keep digging, Dix,” Breaker interrupts. “You’ll be six feet down soon enough.”
“Do you know what he’s talking about?” I gesture in disbelief. Dixon is trying to articulate something, yet he sounds like a blubbering piece of shit.
“Fuck yes, I do.” Breaker takes a bite of his sandwich. “What he’s trying not to say is you two are fucking weird. You can turn it on and turn it off so fucking quick. It’s disturbing yet impressive, to be honest.”
They have a point. I glance over my shoulder and catch Palmer’s teeth nibbling her bottom lip as she reads her book.
“Time to up the ante, boys.” I stand, hopping onto the empty table next to us.
Every eye in the room turns to me, their king who most are afraid of, but too scared to show. The power they thrust on me is intoxicating. It’s no wonder there are boys around our country who believe they are unbreakable. We are given power we haven’t earned and lap it up, taking every last drop as a means of survival.
It’s bullshit.
All of this.
Especially what I’m about to do.
“A list will be posted on every bulletin board across campus, and the first one of you to bring me everything on it, will win.”
“Win what?” Dillon Johnson stands, always so damn eager. He’d better hope, for his own safety, he keeps his hands to himself.
“Let’s not pretend like anyone gives a shit what the prize is. The fun is in the taking. Good luck, everyone.” I hop off the table and walk towards the main exit. My hand rests on the door, and my eyes shift to Palmer’s table. I force a false hatred into my expression. Her eyes narrow as if she almost believes my cold exterior.
Out in the courtyard, Dixon and Breaker join me, and I take a stack of papers out of my backpack.
“Post these,” I instruct, shoving them into their chests.
They scan the list, their eyes widening in near unison. I know what they’re thinking. This is a horrible idea. They’re more than likely right, but I need something to sell this fully. I initiated open season on Palmer, and no one seems upset about doing my dirty work.
“Does she know what’s on this list?” Breaker asks first.
“Who do you think wrote it?” I smirk.
Dixon laughs, clutching the stack of papers in his hand. “This is what I’m talking about. Totally fucked up.”
“No one will get close enough to her for some of these.”
“And how do you plan on ensuring that?” Breaker asks.
I fight the amusement clawing at my lips. “Well, you, for one.”
“I’m playing bodyguard, really?” He rolls his eyes. “Delaney is supposed to return tomorrow.”
“Good, the three of you can braid each other’s hair,” I say, walking away, knowing damn certain he won’t put up a fight. He knows, as much as I do, that it’s the only option.
The doors of the cafeteria fly open. Palmer rushes out, looking behind her like she expects someone to be following her. No one is there, though. They don’t know what’s on the list yet. She has at least fifteen minutes until the bets are off. The second she sees me, she heads straight in my direction.
“Is this going to work?” she asks, an urgent tone in her voice.
“It has to,” I whisper, clutching her elbow. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Breaker’s got you, and I’ll always be close.”
“Someone left a note on my door.”
“Wait a second!” I yank her out of view, tucking our bodies into a small enclave at the closest building. “What do you mean, left you a note? Why didn’t you text or call me?”
“I’m telling you now.” She brushes the lapels of my uniform jacket, smiling up at me. “I didn’t want you to freak out, Marek. I knew if I
called, you’d have come over like a bull charging towards a red cape, and I wanted to avoid that.”
“Fuck, Palmer.” I run my hand over my face. “You’re right, but you need to tell me these things. You not staying at the house is starting to mess with my head.”
We’ve made the decision to not have her staying at the house for a few days. Dillon has been sniffing around too close for our comfort, and the last thing we need is our cover blown. Even so, we sneak over when we can.
“I know I’m right.” Palmer reaches into her backpack and takes out a cream piece of paper. “Here. Do with it what you want.”
My blood boils as I read the black ink. There’s a splatter of blood smeared in the corner.
What if I killed someone for you? Would you notice?
“What the hell!” I whisper-yell, stuffing the already-crinkled paper in my pocket.
“I don’t know what it means, or who wrote it.” Her hand trembles as it slides away from my chest.
I clutch it in my grasp and bring it to my mouth. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“That’s what you keep saying.” A soft smile forms on her face, but the hidden truth isn’t hard to find in her eyes. She’s scared, and there’s nothing I hate more than seeing her anxious.
“Just a little more time, and we’ll figure this out.”
“Doesn’t it sometimes feel like this is for nothing?” Her eyes flutter shut, overcome by her worries.
“I can’t believe that.” I jab my hands through my hair, frustrated at the very thought of us never getting a single break.
“Why not? What if we just stopped trying to figure out what happened?”
“Because when we do that, it’ll be like saying the hell I’m putting you through is for nothing.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and lightly press her against the glass door. “Don’t ask me to do that, because if this is it for us, I don’t want that stain on our relationship.”
Before anyone can see us, I drop my lips to hers. The natural way she softens under me astounds me. Kissing Palmer is a small piece of heaven, only I am privileged to experience. It’s becoming more apparent to me that I’m willing to walk through fire for this girl.
