Coming full circle from that night when Vic kicked Hael out of the room and off of me, Hael takes his cock and presses it, not against my ass, but against my already stretched pussy.
“I don’t know if I can …” I start, but I don’t use our safe word. I don’t want to. This is what I want.
Hael pushes inside of me, slow and wicked and with purposeful intent, joining Victor’s cock inside my silken pussy. It’s almost too much, almost painful, and for the briefest of moments, I consider actually saying it, calling out mare’s nest and putting a stop to this.
Then Hael begins to move in time with Vic and nothing has ever felt so perfect or so inevitable, and I can’t even remember that there’s supposed to be a place where one of them ends and I begin.
Hael comes first, reaching around me to knead and massage my breasts, teasing the almost painfully hardened peaks of my nipples. He does all of that while he pumps his seed into me, and then he, too, is gone and it’s just me and Victor, surrounded by spent boys and candlelight.
We fuck and fuck and fuck until we’re both soaked in sweat and I’m quite sure that if I spend another goddamn second looking into his ebon eyes, I’m going to die.
Look at me, his domineering gaze commands. Look at me and watch, the smirking shape of his mouth says.
Victor slows the rolling of my hips just before I climax again.
“Oscar, get the ropes,” he commands, and my entire body flushes ice-cold before turning into an ardent, flaming nightmare of need. They brought ropes. They knew. Somehow, they knew what I was going to need tonight.
Nothing in half-measures, right?
Oscar Montauk does as he’s told, collecting the bloodred rope we used on Cal, and then Victor is sitting up and Hael is lifting me off of his boss’ dick.
Hael holds me against him, my back to his front, while Oscar pushes his fogged and smudged glasses up his nose with an inked finger and then proceeds to sweep that silky rope around me. He ties my right wrist to Callum’s wrists, binding them together with careful knots. On the other side, he does the same with Aaron, connecting my left wrist to my former ex’s. With my ankles, he does the same. My right ankle is bound to Callum’s while my left is bound to Aaron’s.
And then, Oscar truly shows us all what he can do with his art, wrapping my body up in a firm but gentle caress of ties and knots, highlighting my breasts by braiding around them and making them swell and ache. He does the same with the plump pinkness of my cunt, creating a V-shape around it with a large knot that teases my clit, and two trailing pieces of rope that frame either side of my opening. They come together over the sweet soreness of my ass, rubbing me in just the right way when I wiggle in Hael’s arms.
Oscar even ties me and Hael together, binding my torso to his. I can see now why the phrase the devil finds work for idle hands exists. The devil has found his work here, in Oscar’s beautiful rope.
“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here,” he murmurs, as if he can read my mind.
Once he’s finished, I’m bound and immobile, tied to Hael, to Callum, to Aaron. My legs are spread wide, my cunt highlighted and plumped up by rope while my breasts strain beneath tight loops and knots. My breathing is heavy, my lids drooping, my mouth parted.
“Excellent.” Victor stands over me, looking down at Oscar’s handiwork, his obsidian eyes sparkling as he takes in the sight. “Now, fuck her.”
And so, Oscar does. As he enters me with a deep groan, Victor takes the last bit of rope and, with a surprising level of skill of his own, ties me and Oscar together loosely enough that he can still thrust but that he can’t escape.
Not unless Vic chooses to untie us.
Oscar’s mouth finds first my right breast and then my left, sucking on my nipples and using that bitingly caustic mouth of his to tease and flirt and lick. He bites me, too, leaving marks all over my pale skin and the demon wing tattoos on my chest. His tongue traces the fluted hollow of my collarbone as his body rubs my clit and drives into my cunt all at the same time.
Yet another orgasm hits me, one that’s so powerful and violent that I’m sure I’m going to pass out and wake up to find that this is all a dream. How could it be real, with the old house creaking around us and the flames of the candles sputtering and dancing? How could it be real when Oscar finishes inside of me and then collapses on top of me while the other three boys watch, bound and helpless?
For quite some time, we stay exactly where we are. Even with the ropes on my body and my legs spread wide, muscles quivering at the strain, I actually start to fall into an endorphin-infused sleep, sated and heavy and happy.
I must actually do it, conk out for a minute, because when I blink to, Oscar is being untied and allowed to move aside, and then Victor is mounting me. He plows me into the floor while Oscar takes over the task of teasing and suckling on my swollen nipples, sliding his fingers over my aching clit before dipping one inside of me alongside Vic’s cock, not caring that he’s simultaneously teasing his boss as he pleasures me.
That last orgasm, the one that lines up so perfectly with Vic’s roar of satisfaction as he conquers and destroys all six of us, is mind-numbing. There is no more room for doubt or pain or wonder, I exist only for this moment and no matter what suffering I had to endure to get here, it was worth it.
It was so fucking worth it.
Victor finishes in me with a few, violent thrusts, spilling his hot seed into my womb as Oscar sits up and swipes at his mouth.
And then Vic looks down at me and our gazes clash and the room is drowning with heat and desire and dark magic.
“I love you,” is what he says, and I’m not entirely sure if the words are for me and me alone. Victor slides out of me with a groan and then moves to sit back in our circle of blankets and pillows and takeout. He lifts the lid on the top of the chocolate cake and then stabs a fork directly into the middle of it.
“Jesus,” Hael breathes from behind me as Oscar works quickly to untie us, using that magic of his so that the ropes seem to simply … slough off. With another groan, I crawl forward and slump into the blankets, leaning back on one hand and then letting my head fall back, too.
The other boys join the circle and a few of them take up forks of their own to ravage that goddamn cake. Nobody speaks. Magic is too thick in the air for words. Instead, I drop my chin back down so that I can see everyone, adjusting my sore and sweat-slicked body to be more comfortable.
As I do, my fingers bump against the pocket of Callum’s discarded hoodie and knock against something hard inside. His knife. The thought comes to me before I even reach inside the garment to find out for myself. Removing the blade, I stare at it for a long moment before setting the sheath aside.
“Bernadette?” Victor asks as I crawl over to him. I look up at his assumptive, godlike face before I take his hand and slice a thin, sharp line along the faded white edge of a repeated scar. He makes no sound as I do it, doesn’t even shift the slightest bit. His breathing remains even, his eyes fixated on my face.
I slice my hand next, pressing our palms together with an abrupt inhale of pain.
“Blood in,” I reconfirm, squeezing hard. “Blood out.”
I move onto Hael next, slicing his palm, pressing our hands together. His honey-almond eyes are soft, pupils thick and irises darkened with affection as we share blood. Callum is next, and I wonder for a brief minute if this isn’t going to be too much for him, considering he’s already got a body covered in scars. But when I hesitate, he takes the wrist of the hand holding the knife and moves it so that the blade is pressed into his skin.
“Do it,” he tells me, so I slice into his pale flesh and make him bleed. Again, we share blood, looking into each other’s eyes. Oscar is next, and I don’t need to ask if he wants this; I can feel it. It’d be obvious to anyone that walked into this room, that this is all he craves. Belonging. Family. And most especially if all that belonging and all that family was drenched in blood.
Our fingers tangle together, blood smearin
g between our palms. And then it’s Aaron’s turn.
It’s fitting that he’d be last in the circle today, since he was my first romantic love. He was always first, and nobody can ever take that away from us.
“Hello Bernie,” he whispers as I sit in his lap and we press our foreheads together. I cut him and we squeeze our hands together at the same time that we shut our eyes. Once we’re done, Aaron reaches out his palm and presses it against Victor’s.
A shudder passes through me just as one of the boards on the back window shifts and adjusts itself, letting a breeze blow into the room and extinguishing all of the candles in one, single breath.
“Blood in,” I repeat, shivering as Oscar and Callum get up to check the window, just to make sure that it really was just a side effect of an old house shifting and not a member of the GMP sneaking up on all of us, naked and sated and covered in blood. “Blood out.”
Aaron lies down with me in the blankets and we pass out.
Several hours later, I wake up to find the boys eating the last of the cake and digging into the remaining takeout. Scooting up to join them, I take another swig of whisky, dress myself, and then dig into a cake slice of my own while Aaron relights all the candles with Hael’s help.
Afterward, with just my pink jacket and my panties on but nothing else, I kneel in front of the fireplace on the old wooden floors. Sucking one finger into my mouth, I make it wet and then I draw a word on the hearth of the fireplace, tracing the letters H-A-V-O-C into the dust. Somebody puts the crown on my head, but I’m not paying attention to them right now.
In this moment, with the candles’ flames dancing and writhing around me, I take that tube of Penelope’s pink lipstick and I cross out the final name on my list.
7. the mom
With a quick swipe, I apply the lipstick to my own mouth and then kiss the bottom of the page, leaving the imprint of my lips like a signature.
“Goodbye, Mom,” I say, my mouth in a sharp frown but my eyes dry. “Good night.”
I set the envelope aflame with a single flick of my lighter and then I toss the remainder of it into Victor’s grandmother’s fireplace to burn.
“So it’s done then,” Victor says from behind me, but I know he isn’t really asking. He’s just stating a fact. Even so, I reply because we all need to know for sure.
“It’s done,” I agree, and then he sweeps me into his arms and fucks me into the floor.
Things are different after that night. Better. Blissful, almost. Every day that I wake up surrounded by Havoc, every day that I attend that snooty ass school and sleep in that fancy ass apartment, is a blessing I never expected to count.
Something changes between us all—as you might think, considering the orgy and the bloodletting—but in the best possible way. We’re connected, intertwined, bound and twisted together. It makes it easier to pass the time as we wait out the end of school, a year of marriage, all the steps that will bring us that much closer to Victor’s inheritance and all the power that money will bring to our fingertips.
For now, that’s all we’ve got. Our planning for Ophelia and Maxwell isn’t making much progress otherwise. But time, we can definitely pass some time here. I’m thrilled to be able to do it. Life gets so easy for a while that I start to remember some of my old hobbies. Besides working on my poetry, I’ve been catching up on binge-worthy shows, reading romance novels in the bath, and perfecting the gossip and social intel skills that every Prescott ho excels at.
Oak Valley Prep is so much more twisted than I expected. There are serpentine games being played in every classroom, barbs thrown with every pretty smile shared in the hallway. Right now, I’m watching the daughter of an oil tycoon whisper secrets into the ear of a girl—a hotel heiress, to be exact—she sabotaged just yesterday by stealing her PE uniform. The hotel heiress chick got a write-up since this is the fifth time that’s happened, putting her at risk of suspension.
Oil Tycoon Girl was tricksy, but I saw her take the uniform. She stuffed it into a trash can just outside the girls’ dormitory. There are other things going on, worse things. Rich people are sick, nefarious fucks.
“I expected this place to be as dry as the Sahara,” I admit, sitting up at the outdoor table where we’re eating. Victor is smoking, even though he gets written-up almost daily for it. Our connections to the schoolboard hold strong. Guess it’s pretty big news when you can out someone for being a pedophile—with undeniable proof, too. “But this is a wet, juicy miasma of backstabbing, theft, and fucking. These Oak Valley kids could give Prescott ones a run for their money in the bullshit and drama department.”
“Fuller High is where all the normal kids go,” Hael says, chewing his food absently. He looks down at his plate like he misses his mom’s food immensely. Like, the grub here is good, but it’s the kind of good that only money can buy. And I mean that in the most negative way possible. Back in Prescott, there’s nothing money can buy. It’s all about the skill and ingenuity of the people.
This food is as soulless as the fancy coffee.
“So says the man who allowed Brittany Burr to worm her way into our lives,” Oscar deadpans, and Hael sighs, setting his fork down on the side of his plate before lifting those honey-brown eyes up.
“Brittany is a naïve idiot, and a spoiled, demanding bitch. But she isn’t Trinity Jade. And she isn’t Kali Rose-Kennedy. That’s all I’m saying.” He glances my way, as if to apologize for defending his ex. “She’ll get hers eventually—don’t worry about it. As soon as that baby comes out, she’ll know he belongs to Rich Pratt.”
“That’s almost punishment enough,” I joke as Hael watches me, and we both end up smiling. “Finding out that you’re not the father. Personally, I’d be devastated.”
“Whoa there, princess,” Vic says, even as I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes on him. He knows that I detest being called that. He knows that I’m his motherfucking queen. We proved that shit to each other, back at the house. Of course, Vic wouldn’t be Vic without a little alpha-hole behavior every now and again. “You’ve got five possible baby daddies sitting right here. Chill that talk.”
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” I ask him as he looks down at me from his spot on the table, his shoes on the bench seat beside me. It’s weird as fuck seeing all five Havoc Boys dressed in these hideous prep school uniforms. Only … they don’t look quite as hideous when the boys are actually wearing them. Fine, I’ll admit it: they look handsome as hell. All day long, I catch girls looking. Boys, too. Mack even ogles them sometimes when we pass him and David in the courtyard. Havoc is just that goddamn pretty, I guess.
“Meaning you’re not interested in kissing me and making Trinity Jade jealous?” Vic queries as Aaron rolls his eyes dramatically. I can see Trinity from the corner of my eye, watching us. She does that a lot, stares like that. I wonder if it’s because she’s daydreaming about killing me or daydreaming about fucking Vic.
Either way …
I move over to where Victor’s sitting, and I crawl into his lap, right in the middle of that spring-drenched courtyard with all those uppity Oak Valley brats. See, I’ve been dying since I got here to kick Trinity’s ass—Prescott style. Only, it took me a few weeks to realize it: Trinity needs her ass handed to her to in a different way (at least for now). Physically hurting her at the art gallery and at her party did nothing to faze her, but when she got caught with James in the room at the lodge? She was mortified.
She craves approval from others; image is everything.
So, since the entire school believes her to be married to Victor now—we got her grandfather to play along with the charade on the pretense of Trinity writing her senior thesis on a social experiment—this is how I best make her bleed.
I grind on Vic and shudder when I feel his cock lengthening and thickening inside his slacks. Kissing and sucking up his neck, I mark him, loving the way the other students make a sharp curve around our table, interrupting the flow of traffic just to keep away fro
m our space.
This is our territory now. Ours. We marked it fully and completely. After that pagan-esque magic ritual we performed at Vic’s grandma’s place a few weeks ago, I’m feeling positively untouchable.
Trinity storms over to us after a moment, fuming like … well, like an uptight spoiled prep school girl. Her eyes blaze with fury, but the rest of her remains still, trapped in the harsh and ugly world of being a WASP. No emotion seeps out of her that isn’t jammed violently past that societal filter, as if through a sieve.
“You’re making a fool out of me,” she snarls, and that’s the god’s honest fucking truth right there. That’s exactly what I’m doing. “We are supposed to be married now. Married. You are to act as my husband while in a public place.”
I glance briefly back at Victor before bursting out laughing. I’m not the only one. All the boys chuckle. Because this is so classic and so fucking hilarious. What did I tell you? This bitch did not even need to get her ass handed to her with my fists. This is far more fun.
“Well, he and I are actually married, and you’re the one that told Ophelia that Victor could … what was it that you said? Oh, that’s right: you can still screw your little whore. Guess what? That whore is his wife, and we’re going to continue to do exactly as it is that we’re doing now. Hugging. Kissing. Sneaking off to fuck.” I release Victor and stand up, turning around to face Trinity Jade with an expression that’s rife with menace, one that I really hope gets across how serious I am about this. “Do you have a problem with any of that?”
I stay where I am, reaching back as Victor lights up and hands me a cigarette. Slipping it between my lips, I watch Trinity Jade struggle with a lifetime full of entitlement and getting her way. She’s so used to that, it’s hard for her to remember that she doesn’t have the upper hand here. Do it, I think at her, daring her to hit me just so I can beat her ass right back. I would love to see you swing for me.
Except, she doesn’t. Eventually she turns on the heel of one of her hideous Mary Jane-esque shoes and takes off down the stone walkway to the girls’ side of the dorms.
Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys Book 5) Page 36
