Sins at St Joseph's Academy: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (The Fallen Book 1)

by MV Ellis

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Basically, he thinks your dad might start to hide or destroy evidence,

  “Prepare how?” She pushes me gently, and this time, instead of blocking her, I yield, stepping back to give her space. I also want to see her face as I tell her what my father told me. But then when I reach down to nudge her chin up to face me, I almost wish I hadn’t. She looks devastated. No, worse than that, she looks broken.

  “Gather anything you think might be of use or interest to the cops—things you’ve mentioned to me like her pocketbook and purse, etcetera, that she’s apparently left behind.” I soften my voice. “Even take photos of things like her clothes still in the closet, toiletries still in the bathroom, suitcases still present, that kind of thing.”

  I carry on, trying not to focus on how much her obvious pain is affecting me. Maybe the weight in my chest is indigestion. “The metadata of photos is timed and dated in your phone, so if suddenly some of those things mysteriously vanish, you’ll have proof that it was done after the fact.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty heavy, but I think it’s good advice. He’s not a cop, obviously, but he’s seen a lot over the years, so I guess he knows what the cops look for, and what could go wrong.” She nods silently. “He also said that you shouldn’t do anything that you think will alert your dad to your intention to contact the police.

  “Not only might it put you in danger in some way, but again, it might cause your father to react in certain ways that could be problematic. So, for example, he said that as well as not mentioning your plans to your dad, when you’re taking photos etcetera, you also shouldn’t move or remove anything that he might notice and get suspicious about.”

  I feel sick at the thought of Blake maybe coming to some kind of harm, just like I have every time I’ve thought about it since I spoke to my dad a few hours ago.

  “I’ve had her phone this whole time, and he either hasn’t noticed, or he doesn’t give a fuck, but I take the point. I guess I’ll go for my first home visit, and take or photograph what I can. My dad is hardly there most of the time, he’s too busy going out and getting blasted with his drinking buddies. And even when he is there, he passes out drunk and sleeps like the dead. I could possibly get inside and leave without him even knowing. I just need to figure out how to get there without him picking me up.’

  “I’ll take you.”

  “What? Why would you do that?” The look of confusion on her face slays me.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Stop talking in riddles. I don’t get why you’d offer something like that, and I don’t have the energy to play games right now.”

  I sigh and glance up to the marbled ceiling above the covered walkway outside the chapel. I turn back to her, and look into her sad gray eyes for a few more moments. “I just want to help, that’s all.”

  “Okay, but why? I really don’t get it.”

  “Seriously, Bambs? I would think that’s obvious by now.”

  “Well it’s not. I’m going to need you to spell it out for me.”

  I rake my hands through my hair and look away.

  “Thunder?”

  “Shit. It’s like what I said to you before. I guess I’m a guy who always wants what he can’t have.”

  “What you can’t have…you mean me?”

  I nod, but don’t look at her.

  “Thunder.” I stay still and quiet. “Look at me.” I realize at that point that I’ll do anything she tells me to. Anything she wants. Anything she needs. And I don’t even have a choice in the matter.

  I return my gaze to hers, and am surprised by the look in her eyes.

  “Who said you can’t have me?”

  “Nobody, but…” Well, that isn’t strictly true; Zeph has said so more than once—both directly with his words, and indirectly with his actions.

  “Exactly. And even if they had, there’s nobody who gets to say that except me, and I haven’t, and won’t.” I’m not sure I totally understand what the hell is going on right now, except the look on Blake’s face answers a lot of my unanswered questions.

  I lurch forward hard and fast, barely in control of my own body as I slam her into the wall again. My hands instinctively reach for her cheeks, pulling her face to mine before I crash my lips against hers.

  As we share our first real kiss, my body is flooded with burning heat like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that, as much as I physically have the edge over her—just like we all do—somehow, despite that, she’s the one holding all the cards. Over all of us.

  Chapter 27

  Thunder

  * * *

  As Blake lifts up on her tiptoes to allow me to devour more of her mouth, Zeph’s words ring through my ears—We stick to the plan. We work the plan. We nail the plan. We nail her.

  Am I sticking to the plan, or do I have my own plan—a hidden agenda that’s more about meeting my own needs than Zeph’s? I honestly can’t answer that question at this point in time. Not only is my mind too clouded by thoughts of Blake and all the glorious things I want to do to her, but the truth is that I’m also having trouble unpacking my thoughts and feelings. There are a lot of them, and they can flip-flop wildly from one moment to the next.

  That said, if someone put a gun to my head, I’d probably be forced to admit that my dick is a major player in my thought, and decision-making processes, right now.

  At least I’m man enough to admit it, though. Kinda. Despite Zeph’s constant denials, I don’t believe for a minute that his desire—conscious or subconscious—to nail Blake to the wall isn’t the driving force behind his campaign against her. If it’s not the main motivation, it’s definitely high on the list.

  He clearly doesn’t realize, but it’s obvious every time the two of them are in the same room, and even sometimes when they’re not. His whole demeanor changes when he talks about, or is near her.

  He’s not the only one, either. I’m pretty sure Tyce is right there with him, also. Thinking of Tyce brings my mind sharply, and painfully out of my jumble of thoughts, and back to the matter at hand. The “matter” being Blake.

  The kiss is beyond anything I imagined it would be, and as I roughly devour her mouth, like a wild horse tearing through open country, my senses go into overdrive. Everything is focused on Blake, and I can’t get enough of her. I want to inhale her, look at her, stroke her, and lick her until I can’t see, hear, smell, touch or taste anything, or anyone else. Until there is nobody else.

  I step to the side, still feasting on her like she’s my last meal, and pull her with me until we reach the font I pointed out earlier. Only, instead of bending her over it, like I threatened to, I hoist her up onto it. Predictably, Blake isn’t thrilled by the move.

  She drags her mouth roughly from mine, again, shoving at my chest. “Hey! You can’t just push and pull me around like that.”

  My thoughts are still scrambled, but they kick into gear as I look down and take in the outraged expression on her face. Fuck, she’s cute when she’s pissed, which thankfully, is often.

  “Obviously I can, because I just did, and I’m not in the least bit sorry.”

  “Well don’t do it again.” Fuck. I’m sure if she knew how biteable her bottom lip is when she pouts like that, she wouldn’t do it around me, or any of the guys for that matter. Just the sight of that alone is almost enough to throw me over the edge.

  “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Bambi.”

  “You need to keep it. Actually, you need to keep your hands off me, period. You guys should all—”

  “Shut up.”

  “What?” She blinks rapidly in shock at my words, and I love that I have the power to throw her like that.

  “You heard me. You talk too much. Just shut up and let me make you feel good.”

  “You can’t j—”

  I clamp my hand over her mouth again. I don’t care what she thinks I can and can’t d
o, I only care about what I’m going to do. As Blake bites my palm, and struggles against me, I increase my grip, squeezing her cheeks so that she can’t squirm out of my grasp. She’s a stubborn little thing though, and there’s no way she’s giving up that easily. If she’s breathing, she’s fighting.

  I reach out with the other hand, and stroke her nipple through the fabric of her shirt a few times, before pinching it between my thumb and forefinger, and tweaking it hard. When her body jolts so forcefully that she almost loses balance from the edge of the font, I know I’m on the right track.

  I step forward, nudging myself between her legs to steady her.

  “Oh you like that, huh?” She shakes her head, but her body is telling a totally different story as I squeeze her nipple harder.

  I lower my face to her, inhaling her unique scent as my lips graze her clavicle. Jesus Christ, I never thought I’d see the day when something as simple as nuzzling a girl’s neck could bring me so close to the edge, yet here I am with my boner begging for sweet release. “I don’t know who you’re lying to more, me or yourself, and I really don’t care.”

  I just care that I can make us both feel good.

  I remove my hand from her mouth, knowing it could lead to me being on the receiving end of another barrage of words, but to my surprise, she’s silent. Not only that, but she groans heavily as her eyes drift closed and she lets her head fall backward. I stand still a few more moments, admiring my handiwork, before getting back to the matter at hand.

  I use both hands to quickly undo the first few buttons of her school shirt, leaving the tie still fastened around her neck. I reach inside her shirt with both hands, feeling like a pirate who just discovered a shit tonne of hidden treasure, and get to work rubbing and squeezing both nipples this time. They were already hard to my touch through the shirt, yet they pebble even more as our bare skin makes contact. Fuck. She has the best tits, they sit high and firm on her chest, pert and ready for action.

  No girl has ever tested my patience like Blake Allen. As much as I want to nudge her upper body so that she’s leaning back further, then come all over her rack, I restrain myself. Instead, I lower my mouth to her chest, and start slowly licking at one light brown areola, as I squeeze the other, on and off. I make small circles with my tongue, working my way toward her peaked nipple.

  This time, as well as groaning, Blake begins to roll her hips slowly, creating a rhythm which I catch on to, circling my tongue in time. Her eyes remain closed, and though her head is still tilted back, I can still make out the deep frown etched into her brow. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and seems to bite down hard. That makes two of us, Bambi.

  Loving the power I have to turn her on, I stop moving my tongue, and lower my mouth to cover her nipple, but this time, without actually touching it. Instead, I breathe deep and heavy, knowing that my hot breath is warming her skin.

  I do this for as long as I can before she finally takes matters into her own hands—literally grabbing her breast and thrusting herself forward to shove it into my mouth. She hooks her other hand behind my neck, and pulls sharply.

  When I finally clamp my mouth hard over her nipple, her body erupts, writhing against me in faster, more urgent circles.

  “Jesus. Fuck!”

  Her cry is so loud that I instinctively reach for her mouth again, and press down on it. If she carries on that way, we’re going to get busted, for sure. I’m sucking her tit like it’s the ripest, juiciest watermelon, and I don’t want to waste even a drop of it’s sweet nectar, which in some senses, isn’t too far from the truth. There’s no way I want us to get interrupted right now. I have no intention of stopping until my name is all over the best orgasm of her life.

  When I feel like she’s close to coming, just from the way I’m stimulating that one nipple, I move my mouth to the other side, and change my MO. Now I lap gently at the full swell of the side of her tit, avoiding the nipple altogether, and gradually increasing the pressure until I’m damn near giving her a hickey.

  Without warning, I lift my palm from her mouth, and use both hands to squash her tits together. Then I suck on both nipples at the same time.

  “Oh shit, this is—”

  “Shh...play with yourself.”

  “What?” She snaps her head up to an upright position, and when I look up with her nipples still pressed between my lips, I meet her steely glare.

  “You heard me. I want you to get yourself off while I watch you, and I’m going to do the same.

  “I’m not—”

  “Just do it.” I stand upright again, and stare right back at her as I begin undoing my zipper. Maybe because she senses that I’m not about to take no for an answer, Blake slowly hoists her skirt up her legs, revealing her firm, shapely thighs beneath the drab plaid fabric. Holy shit.

  Gripping my dick, I watch as she slips a finger inside herself, then as I move to look at her face again, I smirk at her slack-jawed, glassy-eyed expression. I’ve got her good. We’re both so close, and as I ride my dick hard, my body begins to shake a little in anticipation of the climax I’m about to be hit with.

  The loud clang of the bolt in the heavy triple-height oak chapel doors cuts abruptly through my arousal-induced stupor, but it’s a few more moments before I realize what it means.

  “Shit! We need to bounce or we’re going to get caught.” As a look of horror crosses Blake’s face, I grab her hand in mine and start running, dragging her behind me. I’m not as fast as normal, given that I have the top of my pants bunched in my other hand, for fear of them falling down. Nor does it help that I’m laughing so hard, I can barely breathe.

  Still, even at a slower pace than normal, we’re likely to be way faster than the ancient priest.

  I duck behind the chapel, still pulling Blake behind me, and we fall to the ground in a laughing, breathless heap. It’s no accident that I find myself with her on top of me—I flipped us that way as we tumbled in order to make sure that I took the worst of the impact.

  The laughter stops suddenly, and Blake stares down at me seriously as our bodies press together. I could stay like this forever, but knowing that’s not going to happen, decide to go for the next best thing.

  I sweep a stray curl from her forehead, and meet her intense gray eyes.

  “Come on Bambi, let’s finish what we started.”

  Chapter 28

  Blake

  * * *

  Geneva and I are walking through the halls a few days later when she starts to abruptly veer off in the wrong direction at the fork in the path.

  “We need to get to English Lit,” I protest, yanking her back toward me.

  “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I frown. “Warn me—about what?”

  “Look straight ahead, don’t make it obvious, but the twins and their bodyguard are headed right for us.”

  “Oh, great.” I mutter.

  I fight off the combination of anxiety and irritation buzzing through my veins, and put one foot in front of the other, trudging forward with Geneva in tow. I can’t hide from or try to avoid them twenty-four seven, so I might as well plow right into the belly of the two-headed beast.

  The twins and Jazzy look like standard issue sorority sisters, but the elite academy version. With their platinum-blonde hair that flows down their backs and shoulders, shiny and soft looking, the twins, especially, resemble something from a shampoo ad. I’m pretty sure they never have a bad hair day, or, if they do, they probably skip school and hide away from the world until it passes. There’s no way they’d be happy to have the world see them when they look anything less than perfect.

  Jazzy is right next to them, like a dutiful sidekick should be, and she takes her role very seriously. Although she’s equally pretty, but in a different way, boys seem less interested in her than they are in them. I guess as well as being undeniably beautiful girls, the twins have the advantage of being a double act, and it seems they’re always happy to play on the uniquen
ess of being mirror images of each other. For some reason, even though most of the boys have known them for years, the novelty never seems to wear off.

  Jazzy is a lot taller than Trinity and Divinity, and I’m guessing maybe some guys are also intimidated by her statuesque frame. Or maybe the issue is simply the fact that she’s trying to be a carbon copy of the twins, instead of a person in her own right. She must spend hours every day trying to straighten her naturally wavy hair into a similarly sleek mane as theirs, yet it as it’s coarser, and a little frizzy, it never looks quite as perfect.

  When we get close enough to see what they’re doing, I notice that they’re handing out pieces of thick, black paper embossed with deep gold text to select people as they walk past.

  “Planning a funeral? Are you leaving this mortal coil?” Geneva asks hopefully, swiping one before Trinity/Divinity can yank it away from her.

  Jazzy scowls. “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Normally I’d probably grab some popcorn and sit back to watch the shit show unfold, but in my current state of mind, I’m in no mood to prolong an encounter with these girls, just for the “fun” of it.

  “Come on,” I mutter under my breath, tugging at Geneva’s arm. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  Jazzy chuckles and points to Geneva. “You should listen to your friend. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “It looks like another big bash at Zeph’s party palace,” Geneva says, scanning the flyer in her hand before glancing up at one of the twins. “Why is it printed on this ridiculous paper? No, scratch that, why is there a flyer at all? It’s hardly Zeph’s style. Or any of those guys, come to think of it, it’s a party, not a fucking debutante ball.” She has a point.

  The other twin wraps a strand of her hair around her finger and pops her gum before blowing a huge bubble. She grins at us as if she’s proud of herself for being such a bitch the entire time.