Fearless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #5)

by Ivy Fox

  Chapter 2

  Saint

  We’re both left speechless in the wake of destruction that is Hurricane Elle. I’m still reeling with the realization of my true feelings for her while Chad paces the room, pulling at his hair, most likely thinking of ways he can get out of this clusterfuck we find ourselves in.

  “Fuck! What did I just do?! What did I fucking do!”

  It takes me a few seconds for his words to sink in and cause permanent damage to my already splintered heart. While I was momentarily taken aback by Elle’s devastation, I forgot how Chad has always had the uncanny ability to bring his own brand of vicious misery to my aching heart.

  “Nothing you didn’t want to,” I sneer at his freak-out.

  He snaps his head to me as if only now remembering my presence. His piercing green gaze is filled with resentment and guilt, adding to the torment I’m in.

  “I told you, I can’t lose Elle.” He points a menacing finger in my direction as if I’m the only one at fault here.

  “Yeah, you did.” I lift my chin, narrowing my eyes at him. “But where does that leave me?”

  “Saint…” he softly begins, his accusing tone losing steam as he runs his fingers through his damp blond hair to keep himself centered, “don’t start.”

  “What did you just say to me?” I growl, bridging the small gap between us until we are toe to toe. “Don’t start?! Just exactly what does that even fucking mean?”

  “It means I should have never let it get this far.”

  His soft-spoken words feel like a tender caress on my cheek instead of the dagger that just pierced through my heart, making me bleed out in front of him.

  “Wow,” I croak, taking two steps back, afraid he’ll gut me further. “If it was Elle you wanted all along, then why are you even standing here with me? Why not go after her?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. Just give me a minute. Let me think. Just let me fucking think!”

  He sits on the corner of the bed, head bowed, looking like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. But while he’s content to do nothing but sit here and think his way out of this mess, I’m not as patient. I’ve waited long enough for him to wake the fuck up and man up to his feelings, no matter how chaotic they may be.

  I’m done waiting.

  “You are such a fucking pussy, you know that?! Elle’s right. You were happy to continue stringing us along, weren’t you? That’s it. That’s the only explanation I can come up with on why you won’t fight for the girl you love, and for some reason, you won’t do it for me, either. That was your endgame all along, huh? It was a win-win for you. The only ones who really risked getting hurt here were Elle and me. But who gives a fuck, right? As long as Boy Scout keeps playing with his favorite dolls, who’s to stop him?”

  “It’s not that simple,” he repeats in a somber tone, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

  “Well, let me simplify it for you,” I retort, walking over to the same door Elle walked out of just seconds ago and slamming it shut behind me, all the while wishing I could walk away from my feelings for him just as easily.

  While Boy Scout doesn’t have the cojones to face Elle after what she just walked in on, I’m not as squeamish. Resolve as I’ve never felt before pushes me forward until I’m at her door, ready to put all my cards on the table. But all my determination withers away at the sound of her cries—her heartbreak just as devastating as my own.

  He was never going to choose us, was he?

  He was going to let us love him from a distance, and that would have been enough for him.

  But that won’t cut it for me.

  And it won’t ever be enough for Elle.

  She’s too much like me in that way. We both share the all-or-nothing type of life motto. Boy Scout should have known that when he let us fall in love with him the way we did. Now he’ll have to live with the consequences of his actions. Or, in his case, inaction.

  I breathe out a sigh of relief when I find her door unlocked. Not that a locked door would have stopped me from getting to her. However, when I step foot inside Elle’s bedroom, I make sure to lock the damn thing behind me just so we’re not as easily interrupted.

  Elle stirs once she senses she’s no longer alone in the room, her eyes so swollen it’s difficult to see the gold in them.

  “Get out!” she orders.

  “No,” I quip back, walking toward her.

  “I said get out!”

  “And I said no,” I repeat steadfastly.

  “Why are you even here? Is it to gloat? To tell me I told you so?”

  I shake my head, inching closer to her.

  “You just had to steal him away from me, didn’t you?” she whimpers, wiping her tears away with her forearm.

  Again, I don’t say anything.

  “Answer me!” she shouts in aggravation, going to her knees to throw a pillow at my head.

  I swivel to the side, so the pillow misses its mark, and stalk toward her trembling body until she’s fully enveloped in my arms.

  “Why did you have to do it? Why?” She sobs, hitting my chest with all her might while never really pushing me away. “Do you hate me that much?”

  “I don’t hate you,” I tell her in earnest while her tears cool my heated skin.

  “Don’t you dare lie to me. Not you too.” She continues to slam her little fists on my bare chest.

  “I’ve never lied to you, and I don’t intend to now.”

  She scoffs but stalls her assault on me.

  “Look at me, Elle,” I whisper, cupping her face in my hands and drying her tears with the pads of my thumbs. “He doesn’t want us. Maybe he never did.” I kiss her wet cheeks, tasting her tears with my lips while her palms flatten on my chest. “He doesn’t want us, cariño. He doesn’t want you, and he doesn’t want me. If he did, he’d fight for us.”

  “I hate you!” She mewls. “You destroyed everything.”

  “No, you don’t, Princess. I’m not the bad guy, no matter how much you want me to be.”

  She tilts her head back to look me in the eye, her beautiful golden gaze a fraction of its usual strength and light.

  “I love him, Saint,” she says, her voice cracking at the end, making me feel that cut slice into my heart.

  “I do, too,” I admit, still tracing the streaks of her tears with my thumbs.

  “I know,” she whispers with a defeated slump to her shoulders.

  I pull a strand of her hair and carefully place it behind her ear.

  “I don’t know how to go on from here,” she explains, her gaze never leaving mine.

  “Neither do I.” I kiss her cheek again, needing her tears to temper my pain.

  She runs her finger across my lower lip, her eyes still red from crying.

  “Make me forget. Pretend you love me like you do him, and I’ll do the same.”

  “Is that really what you want? To act like we’re pretending?” I ask her point-blank, needing some kind of confirmation that I’m not alone in this. “Are these tears only for him? Or am I responsible for them, too?”

  But while I need to hear her say that her heart hurts for me too, Elle has other plans in mind. One that starts when she leans in closer and presses her lips to mine. My eyelids fall of their own accord as I kiss her back with all the passion and hurt I feel inside. But most importantly, Elle kisses me with the same fervor one would share with a lover. Her arms wrap themselves around my neck, pulling us both onto her bed, my body looming over hers. We don’t let up, our mouths finding each other’s, unwilling to let go. We’re all breathless kisses, clashing teeth, and famished tongues, and still, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

  What we’re doing is reckless, but we are both hurting so damn much that an escape, even one as dangerous as this one, is the precise sliver of happiness we yearn for most. She nibbles along my jaw, her hands traveling down my body until they feel my hard length. I hiss out when her han
ds pull down my sweatpants, low enough for her delicate fingers to grip my cock.

  “Elle,” I stammer, needing her touch just as much as I need sanity to return to us both.

  “Please.” She cries. “Please.”

  Fuck.

  I’ve never felt more powerless in my whole goddamn life than I do in this very minute.

  But if I’m the cause of her pain, shouldn’t I be the cause of her pleasure, too?

  I bite her neck, my greedy hands sneaking under the hem of her T-shirt, needing to feel her skin against mine. She must hear my silent plea because, in one quick motion, she lets go of my weeping cock in favor of taking her T-shirt off, followed by her bikini top. I swallow dryly, looking at her beautiful, swollen breasts, her pink nipples begging for my mouth.

  “Kiss me,” she begs, catching my bottom lip with her teeth.

  I groan when her tongue seeks mine, needing to prolong this wicked dance of ours. With one hand, I cup her cheek, caressing it while her mouth brings me to my knees. My other hand seeks out her nipple, teasing it with my fingers, anxious to bend down and taste her. Elle squirms beneath me, her leg intent on keeping me hostage. It’s only when her deft fingers brush up against my cock again that I break our kiss.

  “What do you want, Princess? Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you inside me.”

  I close my eyes and breathe her in, letting those words fester in my brain.

  “That will change everything. It will fuck up everything, Elle.”

  “Everything is already fucked-up.”

  She opens her legs, cradling me in between her thighs, her hot core singeing me with its heat. Her eyes never waver from mine as she pulls down her shorts and bikini bottoms. I swallow hard as my gaze follows down her naked body, only to find a clean-shaven pussy, wet and willing for me.

  “You’re not playing fair.”

  “I’m not playing at all,” she whispers, picking up my hand and placing it over her wet folds. “Touch me.”

  I lick my lips, relishing how pliant and eager she is for me. But I can’t give her what she wants. I’ll make her cum with my mouth and fingers, but not with my cock. Not when she’s this vulnerable. I start to lower myself down her body, eager to have her moan out my name as I eat her out till kingdom come, but Elle stops me when she presses her open palms to my chest.

  “Touch me,” she repeats. “But I want to look into your eyes while you do it.”

  Fuck, if that doesn’t get me harder.

  Without missing a beat, my fingers brush against her wet slit, then focus on gently playing with her clit. My heart rate picks up as her cheeks flush a pretty shade of crimson, her lips parting with each caress. I’m a ball of need with the way her responsive body melts to my touch, her rolling hips seeking more of my sweet torture. When my finger breaches her tight core, she winces.

  “Elle?”

  “It’s okay,” she says, running her fingers through my hair.

  “We shouldn’t do this, cariño. We’re both not thinking straight.”

  “I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. Feel something other than this.” She bangs at her heart. “It hurts too much. Please, Saint. Please.”

  I lower my sweaty temple to hers.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You already have. Now I want you to take the pain away,” she mutters softly before catching my mouth with hers and delivering a kiss that leaves me in a tailspin.

  “Do you want me?” she asks when she pulls away from our kiss.

  “Yes,” I confess gruffly.

  “Then take me, Saint. Make it better.”

  “You’re fucking killing me, Elle.”

  I shut my eyes, kissing her forehead with mine, trying to buy myself some time to think straight. Every inch of my body screams for me to give her what she wants, its demands louder than my conscience, while trying to do the noble thing of leaving her untouched. Elle has never been with a man before—her tight core is proof of her virginity.

  It will hurt.

  I will hurt her.

  Just like I did earlier tonight when she caught Chad and me together.

  But she’s right. I also hold the power to make her pain go away.

  Just as she is the only one who can ease my suffering, too.

  “I don’t have a condom,” I say as my last attempt to try and see if one of us is strong enough to put the brakes on this.

  Elle’s gaze softens, her finger gently tracing my pierced eyebrow.

  “I trust you,” she utters finally.

  And those words, coming from her lips, are as close to an ‘I love you’ as I will ever get tonight.

  Elle doesn’t trust easily, if at all. Her saying that she puts her full faith in me is the thing that pushes me over the edge and makes my decision for me.

  “I’ll go slow,” I tell her, kissing from her neck up to her jaw as my crown meets her opening.

  “No. Don’t. I want to feel the pain, all of it.”

  Such a fearless little thing.

  “It will hurt, cariño. First times always do for girls, and I’m not exactly an average-sized guy either.”

  “I can take it,” she replies, completely disregarding my attempts to dissuade her or lighten the situation.

  “Yes, you can. Can’t you, Elle? You’re so fucking strong. So fucking strong. I’m in awe of you.”

  Her liquid gold gaze flicks up to mine, a single tear dropping from the corner of her eye. I lap it up with the tip of my tongue while stroking her cheek with the back of my knuckles.

  “Are you ready?”

  She nods, holding her breath.

  I squint my eyes and thrust deep inside her, her pussy strangling me when I breach her. Elle lets out a loud cry, and I silence her wail with a kiss. She bites down on my lip, the taste of copper mingling on our tongues, while my cock stretches her further. The sensation is too much for me to take, making me stop when I reach the hilt, just to take the air back into my lungs.

  “Why did you stop?” she asks, her chest heaving up and down.

  “Give me a second, Princess. I’m not made of steel.” I try to joke, overcome by the sensation of being inside the girl I love.

  “It sure feels like it to me.”

  I smile into the crook of her neck at her witty comeback, happy to see that the hellcat I know and love still breathes inside her. Slowly, I pull myself out of her warmth and then push back in again, pulling out all the stops to make this as pleasurable for her as it is for me.

  I really wish she had let me make love to her as I wanted. I fucking would have gone down on her for hours until she was soaked and drenched, begging for my cock. Shit. In my fantasies, foreplay was almost as good as the real thing.

  But Elle couldn’t wait.

  She needed me right then and there, and I wasn’t strong enough to deny her.

  Maybe I never was, to begin with.

  I continue to kiss her everywhere I can while my fingers tease her sensitive clit, until her stifled cries of pain become wanton moans of pleasure.

  “Does that feel good?” I choke hoarsely when her core starts clenching around my cock.

  “Yes,” she moans, her nails sinking into my shoulders, her hips in sync with mine.

  “Elle?”

  “Yes,” she replies, her golden hue so soft and loving it takes me a bit to find my words. “What is it?”

  “Say my name,” I demand with such vulnerability to my tone that there is no way I could hide from her.

  She grabs my face, looking deep into my eyes in a way that has my dark soul breathing in its first gasp of light.

  “Santiago. My sinful Saint.”

  I melt at her touch, kissing the inside of her wrist while thrusting slowly into her pussy.

  Even if she regrets this in the morning, I will always be her first.

  She will remember me forever.

  Like I will remember
this night for years to come.

  “Saint,” she repeats, kissing my eyelids, down to my cheek and jaw. “I won’t break,” she explains softly, each kiss determined to wreak havoc on my hungry heart.

  “Yeah, well, I think I might.” I chuckle nervously.

  “If you do, then I’ll be here to fix you. Just like you’re mending me.”

  “Cariño,” I croak, getting lost in what looks a lot like love in her amber gaze.

  “Don’t be afraid,” she coos, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. “I can take whatever you give me. Even pain.”

  I shake my head before kissing her temple.

  “Pain is the furthest thing from my mind. Especially when you’re looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” Her eyelashes flutter.

  Like you love me.

  But the words keep trapped in my mouth, and instead, I let my body do all the talking for me. I slide in and out of her wet core while my lips keep kissing her, cherishing her in every possible way I know. I make sure to add pressure to her clit, knowing that the added friction will push her over the edge. I give everything to her—my body, heart, and soul.

  “Saint,” she cries out as her soul begins to take flight, her nails clawing at my back.

  “Fuck!” I growl, her pussy clenching around my cock in such a way that I’m momentarily blinded by white light.

  It takes everything in me not to cum inside her, pulling out just in the nick of time, spurting beautifully on her olive-toned skin. I use the tip of my cock to spread my cum on her skin, Elle’s breathing still as erratic as my own. There is this twisted, sick part of me that takes pleasure in marking her belly, needing to claim her as mine, even if only for a second.

  Our eyes lock together, and for a split second, neither one of us remembers that there is a part of us that’s missing. But all too soon, the fragile moment passes us by, the memory of Boy Scout’s emerald stare flashing before our very eyes. When Elle’s previous euphoric expression instantly morphs into one of misery, I fall on the bed beside her and cradle her body next to mine.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, running a finger up and down my pec.

  “I think that’s my line, Princess.” I try to play it off, needing to lighten the thick, dense atmosphere.