by Ivy Fox
Too fucking bad for him because I’ve already passed mine.
“You want me to let your boy toy go, then tell me what the fuck you did to Maya?!”
“We didn’t do anything to her! It’s not our fault she’s a freak.”
I knock Reid’s raven head against the locker at full force while the blonde duo continues to shriek for mercy. I don’t know what annoys me the most—their ear-piercing cries or Reid’s refusal to fight back.
Guilt.
That’s what’s stopping him from lashing out at me.
Fucker reeks of a guilty conscience.
“Okay! Okay! We’ll tell you. But we didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, we did her a favor,” Lace begins to stutter. “Your smelly friend has lice. Lice! It’s gross. How can we sit next to her in class when she’s infested? We just did her a favor and told her to go home. Not our fault she’s sensitive.”
Fuck.
My heart hurts for little Maya.
Not only does she have shitty parents who don’t give a flying fuck, but then she has to come to this place to have her lousy-ass circumstances rubbed in her face.
I let Reid go but give him a disapproving scowl. He’s not like the rest of these assholes, but he also does jack shit to stop them when they have their fangs in someone. I don’t expect him to be Maya’s champion or some shit like that, but he could have at least tried to keep his two banshees from slicing her apart.
Guess when push comes to shove, we all stick with the corners we were assigned to.
First Chad with Elle.
Now Reid with these skanks.
Both Lace and Kim rush to Reid’s side, but he brushes them off, not wanting any of their attention. I think he’s finally going to retaliate when he gets all up in my face, but to my surprise, he doesn’t.
“Tell her I’m sorry,” he mumbles and walks down the hall, hands in his pockets, the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The fuck was that about?
“Look what you’ve done!” Lace pouts, eyeing Reid’s slumped form disappearing into the crowded hallway.
I can’t handle these bitches today.
And lord knows, if I’m going to be put away because I put my hands on some girl’s throat, it won’t be Lace Manning’s or Kim Carothers’s. The only girl I want to strangle isn’t here, and like hell am I going to waste perfectly good hate on these two idiots. With new resolve, I leave them to their drama and head to the one girl I need to sort out.
Between thoughts of my jacked-up car and a humiliated Maya, when I finally reach Elle’s locker, I’m seething with renewed rage.
I grab the spoiled princess by the neck and turn her around to face me, catching her off-guard. Her demon eyes look shocked for a split second, but when they realize I’m the one looming over her petite frame, they burn with vile anger instead.
Good. This I can work with.
“Get your filthy hands off of me, Santiago,” she orders through gritted teeth.
“I don’t think I will. Not until I hear an apology.”
She scoffs in my face, not one bit perturbed that my hand is now cradling her throat. All I’d need to do is put just a bit more pressure, and I’d be done with her. I could do it right here—snap her pretty little neck in the middle of the school hall, and no one would even notice. Since she’s small as shit, I could cover her entire body nicely and the assholes passing behind wouldn’t even see it.
That’s all it would take.
Just a little more pressure.
Just a little more.
I almost tighten my hold just to feel how easy it would be to snuff the light from her amber eyes, but it’s the sudden flash of sad emerald ones popping into the forefront of my mind that stops me.
“Apologize.” I grunt, hating that this fucking girl holds such an important place in Chad’s heart.
“You want an apology? Fine. I’m sorry that you’re such a jerk. There I said it. Satisfied?”
“Not even close, Princess,” I bite back with the same loathing stare she’s giving me.
With my hand still wrapped around her throat, I bridge the minuscule gap between us until our bodies are connected in every way imaginable. She looks annoyed by my imposing proximity, but her heaving chest rubbing against my own tells me our intimate stance affects her in other ways, too. And by the raging hard-on I’m getting, I’m not immune either.
Why does hate always put sex in the brain?
Or is it just this hate that gets me going?
I’m not the least bit surprised my body is reacting this way to her. The brat just needs to open her smart mouth to do the trick. My hard-on for Elle has been a repeated nuisance since we were both prepubescent. I’d fuck this infuriating girl in a heartbeat, and by the way she’s squirming, she’s at least thought about it, too.
Interesting.
“Just say what you have to say, asshole. The bell is about to ring, and I don’t want to be late for class just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
“Cute,” I mumble. “But not cute enough for me to forgive what you did.”
“And just what exactly did I do?”
“You told the whole school about my pops. Don’t try to deny it. I know it was you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My steel rod poking her belly didn’t even make her flinch, but the minute I accused her of gossiping about my dad, Elle’s cheeks turned all shades of red.
Gotcha!
“Yeah, you do. You’ve never been a good liar. I see right through you, Elle.”
Her demon eyes shine at me with stubbornness, but there is a hint of shame in there, too.
Not enough, though.
Not nearly enough.
“What do you want?” she mutters under her breath in defeat.
“I told you I want a fucking apology.”
“Fine. I’m sorry.”
I chuckle menacingly.
“It’s not going to be that easy, Princess. This apology is going to hurt.”
“What are you talking about?” she spits out with fury.
She’s the one in the wrong, and yet she’s pissed at me.
Classic Elle Grayson behavior. This girl needs someone to kick her off her high horse, and I’m just the lucky guy to do it.
I lean into her ear, goosebumps rising on the nape of her neck.
“As I see it, I have all the leverage here,” I whisper.
“You have nothing,” she snaps back.
“Don’t I? Imagine how Boy Scout will feel when I tell him that his precious Elle was the one who started the rumor about my pops being in prison.” She bites her lower lip, apprehension finally sinking in. “Or I can also tell him that I kissed you at Lace’s party freshman year. I wonder which will break his heart more?”
“You wouldn’t.” Her eyes go wide in panic.
“Oh, but I fucking would. Play nice, and I might just forget the whole thing.”
I’m bluffing my ass off, but little Elle is swallowing up each threatening word as truth.
Neither of us ever told Chad what happened between us in that pool changing room back at the Manning’s penthouse last year. It was an unspoken understanding between us. A secret only we shared. Even though we never discussed the reason behind our omission, it was pretty damn evident to both of us. If Boy Scout ever knew what went down between us that afternoon, we both would end up hurting him.
Or worse—lose him.
We’re tough as shit, but not when it comes to Chad. We both know that much about one another. And if I’m hanging our kiss over her head now, then she knows I’m not fucking around.
“What do you want then, Santiago? Money?”
“Oh no, baby. It will cost more than a few dollar bills to keep me quiet.”
“Just spit it out, asshole!” she yells in my face, her claws wrapped around my tie.
“I wan
t your obedience.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Like a heart attack. If you play nice with me, I’ll play nice with you. Boy Scout never has to know about you running your mouth about my pops to the whole school or our kiss.”
The bell rings, and her rigid body only stiffens more.
“Meet me at the corner of Third Avenue and Ninety-Sixth Street at five o’clock on the dot.”
“And if I don’t show up?”
“Then I know what your answer is, and I’ll go straight to your best friend and tell him all your dirty little secrets. Maybe it’s time he finally realizes what a fucking piece of work you are.”
“I’ll be there,” she growls.
Good.
One problem solved.
Now off to deal with my other ninety-nine problems.
Since this little princess is no longer one.
Chapter 19
Saint
Khloe Sullivan sucks dick like a pro. On her knees and in her little Catholic school uniform, she swallows my cock in this secluded confessional booth at St. Mary’s Church, as if it were the last thing she’ll ever put in her mouth.
It was just good luck that I kept her digits in my phone after she slipped them to me at prom last semester. Usually, I would have deleted them, but she had a nice rack, and she seemed eager to jump on my dick. And by the way she’s deep throating me like she’s auditioning to be the next big star in porn, I was right on the money.
Unfortunately for her, I’m on a tight schedule. This isn’t exactly a social call—just phase one of my plan of teaching those Pembroke assholes a lesson. It wasn’t hard figuring out who fucked with my car since Pembroke High can’t keep secrets for shit. By the end of the day, I had the names of every last asshole involved in the fucked-up prank—three pricks from the football team and four from the lacrosse team. One of whom just so happens to be Khloe’s longtime boyfriend and all-time douche—Benji Kyle. Since rumor has it that he’s the one who put everything in motion, I decided to start with his ass first.
Speaking of which…
I take my phone out of my blazer pocket and make sure to have it zoomed in on Khloe’s slobbering mess of a face before I take the first pic.
“Khloe,” I call out, making her eyes shift from focusing on my cock to back up at me. “Smile.”
Perfect.
“Hey,” she scolds, wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth and then quickly fixing her frizzy hair. “I didn’t know you were going to keep a souvenir. Next time give a girl a heads up so she can look presentable, okay?”
God, these rich bitches.
Always more concerned about their looks than they are about their reputations.
An incredulous Khloe sits her ass back on her heels watching me, mouth agape, as I take her new favorite toy away from her greedy mouth.
“You’re leaving? But I’m not done yet.” She pouts.
“Yeah, we are.”
“Are you sure?” She continues seductively, running her nails over my jean-clad cock. “You didn’t even get off.”
It takes everything in me not to pull an Elle and roll my eyes at this bitch. I slap her hand away and double-check if the pic I got on my phone is as golden as I think it is. A hint of a smile tugs at my lips when I establish it’s even more perfect than I thought. There is no mistaking Khloe’s face filled with delight at being on her knees for me, sucking away without a care for her boyfriend.
Sorry, Benji.
If you fuck with what’s mine, I’ll fuck with what’s yours.
“Do you really have to go?” Khloe insists like a fucking whiney toddler. “I’ve never had sex in a church before. It’s so hot. Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?”
Somehow, I doubt this is her first time giving head in a confessional, but whatever.
“Just remembered I gotta be someplace.”
“Oh, okay,” she mumbles, forlorn. “Will you text me later then?”
Fuck no.
“We’ll see.”
Her despondent demeanor instantly brightens at the possibility that I’ll blow up her phone tonight.
Jesus.
Once I’ve made sure that everything is zipped up and my phone is tucked away, I stare at the only thing still keeping me from getting out of here. I cup Khloe’s chin, her eyes going half-mast in anticipation, thinking I’m going to kiss her.
Fuck that.
If she wants my dick, that’s one thing, but a kiss?
Those are for people I actually care about, not two-timing skanks.
“Move. You’re in my way.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Okay,” she stutters in confusion, hustling up to her feet to give me room to brush past her. She opens her mouth to say something else, but I’m already out the door, her name no longer even registering in my memory.
One down.
Six to go.
It’s going to be one hell of a busy week.
But that’s tomorrow’s problem. I still have one more thing on my list to tick off today.
I rush to the corner of Third Avenue and Ninety-Sixth Street, pleased to see Elle already there waiting on me with her usual annoyed scowl.
Good girl.
Threatening to tell Boy Scout that she had a hand in spreading the rumor about my pops sure made her agreeable in obeying my orders to a T.
No.
That’s not why she’s here.
She’s here because of that kiss.
“You’re late,” she reprimands.
“Aw, did you miss me?” I tease, pulling on her ponytail.
She smacks my hand away, burning hatred in her eyes.
Huh.
Khloe spent fifteen minutes sucking me off, and yet she wasn’t able to get my cock as hard as one of Princess’s scowls always does. The fuck is that all about?
“I’m here, Santiago. What do you want?”
“Patience, Princess. And what did I say about you being nice to me? Is that any way to greet me? I’m not feeling the love, Elle,” I taunt, running the back of my knuckles on her cheek.
“You’re an asshole,” she mumbles, but she doesn’t pull away from my hand.
“And you’re a class-A bitch. What a pair we make.”
We both stare into each other’s eyes, not wanting to yield to the other, but it’s the sudden electricity between us that has me taking two steps back from her.
“Enough with the theatrics. Just tell me what you want,” she rebukes, bypassing the awkward, vulnerable moment.
“In a minute. All in due time.”
Elle opens her mouth to protest but then shuts it when she hears someone call out my name from across the street.
“Saint!” Maya waves, running in our direction.
A deep exhale leaves my lungs, my confidence increasing now that I have Maya here to run interference between Princess and me. When she finally reaches us, she’s breathing hard, bending her torso halfway, palms grasping her knees as she tries to catch her breath.
“Did you run from school all the way here or something?” I ask worriedly.
After the fiasco that happened this morning, I tracked Maya down and told her not to go home as Lace and Kim ordered her to do. She’d be safer hiding out in the library than back in the projects. Early this morning on my way to school, I passed her dad in our building, and there was no hiding how hard he was tweaking. In his meth-induced state, who knows what would happen if Maya went home unexpectedly.
So the girl has lice—I can fix that.
Being turned out to keep her parents high going—that I couldn’t fix.
Not by a long shot.
“Kind of, yeah. I couldn’t find my metro pass this morning,” she explains, no longer breathing heavily and bringing me back to the matter at hand.
In other words, her parents probably got their hands on it and sold it. Now I feel like shit. I told Maya I couldn’t go with her on t
he subway to school this morning because I still had to pass by the garage to grab my car. I was so high on excitement to show my new Camaro to Chad that I totally bailed on her.
Fuck.
I shove my hand in my back pocket and get my metro card out.
“Here, use mine.”
“What about you? You need it, too.”
“I can jump the beam for a few days until I get paid this weekend. Don’t worry about me, kid.”
“Thanks.”
I don’t even have to look at her to feel Elle’s sole attention on me, reminding me why we’re all here in the first place.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Maya, this is Elle. Elle, this is Maya.”
“Hi,” Elle greets cheerfully. “We’ve met before. I actually have English class with you.”
“Yeah. Hi,” Maya retorts shyly, her eyes falling to the ground.
“Hey, no need for all of that around Elle, kid,” I order. “She doesn’t bite. And believe me, if she ever uses her fangs on anyone here, it won’t be you. Ain’t that right, Princess?”
“Only one way to find out,” she replies overtly sweetly, batting those gorgeous lashes at me.
Maya eyes us both suspiciously, her vivid imagination concocting all sorts of crazy ideas in that brain of hers. Best explain why Elle is here before Maya verbalizes any one of them and makes this whole thing even more awkward than it has to be.
“Although Princess is a pain in my ass, for the next few hours, I want you to consider her your very own fairy godmother.”
“Huh?” they both ask simultaneously, confused by my proposition.
“You’ll see. Come on, ladies. We’re burning daylight, and I still have shit to do,” I order, walking to the classy hair salon on this street I googled earlier.
When we step inside the fancy establishment, the rich socialites in their chairs immediately scan us from top to bottom through their reflections on the mirrors. Even though the three of us are all dressed in the same Pembroke High uniforms—the girls in their green plaid skirts, white shirts, and forest green ties, while I’m stuck with god-awful, dark olive-tone slacks and a blazer—it’s apparent to everyone here that only Elle truly fits in.
“Why are we here?” Elle whispers under her breath, her fake smile stitched in place for our snobby-ass audience.
