Like You Care: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 1)

by Kaydence Snow

  I lifted onto my elbow to look at him. “Do you regret it?”

  He frowned, so I clarified. “Saving me. Putting all your hard work to find your family at risk.”

  The frown disappeared, and his lips quirked into a barely there, sad smile. “No. Not even for a second.”

  “But what about your sister?”

  He rubbed my feet with his. “They still don’t know Jenny is my sister. We know where she is, and we won’t let them disappear again. I’ll talk to my dad in the morning, and we’ll come up with a plan.”

  “Your dad is gonna hate me.” I dragged a hand down my face.

  Turner caught it and rubbed my knuckles gently. “No, he won’t. He’s going to love you. Just like I do.”

  I looked into his face, suddenly lost for words. Did he just . . .

  He frowned slightly before rising up onto his elbows. Was he nervous? “Mena, I could never for a second regret standing up for you. I’m going to defend you with everything I have from now on. I’ll walk you to every class if I have to. I’ll beat Jayden’s ass every time he looks at you. I’ll report every little transgression against you to the school until they’re sick of me. I’m going to do what I should’ve done from the start. Because you mean everything to me. The world is a shitty place, but you make me happy. I love you.”

  So much had happened that night. My body and my soul were damaged, but my heart . . . Pure anguish had been writhing inside me; I’d thought I might never smile again. Yet there he was, pulling one out of me already.

  “I love you, Turner.” I closed the small distance between us and kissed him with a smile on my lips, this intoxicating feeling between us making me giddy.

  It wasn’t long before it turned to more. Our smiles fell away, and the kiss deepened, our tongues stroking.

  He wrapped an arm around my waist, and I leaned forward, pushing him back against the pillows and pressing my chest flush with his. I swung a leg over his hips, and his other hand went to my knee. He trailed his fingers up my leg, then dipped them under the fabric of the boxer briefs to grip my ass.

  I moaned and rolled my hips, seeking friction. He’d already given me everything, but I wanted more. My heart was full, but my body was greedy.

  I moved until I was straddling him fully and ground myself against him. He was so hard that pressing too much was almost painful.

  He gasped and broke the kiss, but I just kissed and licked down that sharp jaw to his neck, my hips never stopping, that heavy, heady feeling building low in my belly.

  When my mouth reached the collar of his shirt, I frowned. There was too much fabric between us. I didn’t want anything between us anymore. I wanted all of him, and I wanted to give all of myself right back.

  I yanked him up into a sitting position and pulled his shirt off. He propped one hand behind himself for balance, his other gripping my hip. I stilled, and for a moment, we just drank in the sight of each other, breathing hard.

  He was so beautiful, bathed in the silver moonlight streaming in through his window, all the dips and flat planes of his sculpted body accentuated. I ghosted my hands up his arms and leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

  “You have freckles on your shoulders,” I whispered against the adorable little spots, smiling. He had a few on his nose too, but they were faint, hardly noticeable unless you were nose-to-nose with him.

  In place of a response, he dragged the tip of his nose up my neck and kissed the spot just under my ear. I shivered, but definitely not from cold. If anything, I was overheating.

  I leaned back and whipped the borrowed T-shirt off.

  Turner’s eyes widened as he took me in, bare from the waist up and straddling his lap. It was clear where this was going. At least, I hoped it was clear. Did he not like my boobs? His stare had gone hard, fixed on something just below my chest.

  I looked down. “Oh.”

  Madison must’ve nicked me with the knife after all. Compared with all the other injuries, the little cuts on my belly didn’t really rate as something to worry about. I hadn’t even registered them in the shower—although I had been in a bit of a haze.

  Turner sighed and looked into my eyes. “Maybe we should slow down? Or just stop if you want to?”

  “Do you want to?” I crossed my arms, covering my chest, and looked down.

  He wrapped his arms around me and leaned back against the pillows. “No. I don’t want to stop. Whatever you’re thinking, put it out of your mind. You drive me crazy.” To punctuate his point, he rolled his hips and ground his still very hard erection against me. I gasped, my body reminding me that it was still roaring to go.

  “But, baby”—Turner ran a gentle hand through my hair—“I don’t want to hurt you. After everything tonight . . . I just want to be careful.”

  I shook my head and lifted myself just enough to look into his eyes. “Don’t. Turner, I don’t want you to see me as some kind of broken, damaged thing. This is exactly why I didn’t want you to know at the very start. I don’t want this to define me.”

  “That’s not how I see you, Mena. It’s not about that. But it was only a couple of hours ago that . . .”

  “Please.” I didn’t let him continue the thought. “I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to think about that right now. I want to be here, in this moment, with you. Make me feel good, Turner. Make me forget.”

  I let my voice go breathy at the end as I rubbed myself against him. His eyes grew hooded, even as I watched the indecision dance in their depths.

  “Just to clarify . . .” he whispered, then moaned, his hips once again moving against mine.

  “I want to have sex with you.” I could feel myself blushing at the words, but I was proud I’d managed to get them out all the same.

  “Fuck.” The word tumbled out of his mouth on a heavy exhale, and he ran a hand through his messy hair. “Are you . . . is this your first time?”

  “Yes.” I bit my bottom lip. “Yours?”

  He shook his head, and it took a conscious effort not to ask how many people he’d slept with. It didn’t matter. In this moment, he was here, with me, and he loved me.

  With gentle but deliberate movements, he rolled me onto my back and kissed me . . . and kissed me and kissed me until I could hardly breathe.

  When he finally pulled his lips away, he rested his forehead against mine, our breath mingling. “It’s probably going to hurt.”

  I chuckled. “I know. I’m not completely clueless.”

  He laughed lightly. “I wasn’t suggesting you were. I’m just . . . I can’t do anything to prevent that, but I want you to feel good first, so . . .”

  He shifted onto his side, the length of his body pressed against mine, and propped himself up on one elbow. For a moment he simply stroked my cheek, then his gentle hand ran down my neck to circle each breast, caressing the undersides, trailing his fingers closer and closer to the nipples. I was breathing so hard my chest was heaving, every breath pushing my breasts farther into his touch.

  Just when I thought I might die from this torture, he firmly kneaded first one, then the other, making me moan. I threaded my hands into his hair as he leaned down and took my nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue while his fingers played with the other.

  Pleasure shot down to the spot between my legs, and I squirmed, rubbing my thighs together.

  Turner responded by dragging his hot hand down my body. When he reached the waistband of the boxer briefs, I moved my hands down to help him remove them, taking a shuddering breath.

  Holy shit. I was completely naked on a boy’s bed. No—not just some boy. Turner—the boy I loved. This was really happening. I grinned at the dark ceiling, then reached for his underwear.

  He lifted his head, another jolt of pleasure shooting down my spine at the sensation of cool air hitting my wet nipple. Gripping my hand gently, he guided it away from his crotch, and I frowned.

  “I told you I wanted to make you feel good.” He gave me a devio
us little smile and boldly stroked me between my legs.

  I gasped, my knees instinctively widening as his fingers explored the most private part of my body.

  It felt so good, but I didn’t want to waste any more time. “I love you for wanting to do that, but I can’t . . . uh . . . I won’t be able to . . .”

  He kissed my lips gently and whispered against them. “Come?”

  My “yes” turned into a moan as he slowly slid one finger inside.

  “You’ve never had an orgasm?” he asked, adding another finger.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve had plenty of orgasms, Turner. On my own. But . . . no one else has been able to make me come before.” Although I was questioning my doubt; the things he was doing with his fingers were making that delicious feeling build at the base of my spine. Until his hand stilled, that is.

  He blinked once, then shook his head and smiled. “Sorry. My brain just short-circuited for a second. Thoughts of you making yourself come were warring with thoughts of beating the shit out of anyone else who’s tried.”

  I laughed, then cried out in pleasure as his fingers started moving again, sliding in and out of me, creating the most incredible friction.

  He dropped the smile and lowered his voice again. “Just tell me what you like, Mena.”

  I looked down at my naked body writhing under his touch, the erotic view of his hand between my legs, and decided to let him try. Taking a deep breath, I reached down for his hand and adjusted it until his thumb was over my clit.

  “Rub here,” I instructed, pushing down any awkward self-consciousness that was trying to make me feel weird about this.

  “Like this?” He moved his thumb from side to side. It felt good, but it wasn’t what worked for me.

  “Up and down.”

  “OK.” He changed direction immediately, and I began to roll my hips against his touch. “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes,” I breathed. “A little harder.”

  He increased the pressure and started moving the fingers inside me again, finding a rhythm that had my whole body feeling as if it were about to combust.

  “Fuck.” A bit of surprise leaked into my tone. “Right there. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

  I writhed against him and moaned, surges of pleasure shooting out from my core. My back arched as the intense orgasm washed over me. One hand gripped a fistful of Turner’s hair, and the other tugged at the sheets, searching for something to hold on to so I wouldn’t float completely away on this wave of intense pleasure.

  Turner removed his fingers and stroked me gently as I came down, my hands releasing their death grip on hair and fabric.

  “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice was gravelly, strained.

  Still panting, I leaned up to kiss him as I pushed his underwear down. This time he let me.

  As our tongues battled for dominance, I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked. He groaned and pumped his hips into my hand.

  A few short moments later, he broke the kiss and shifted out of my reach. “If we keep doing that, I’m gonna finish in your hand.”

  Without waiting for a response, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached into his bedside drawer. As he opened the foil packet and put the condom on, I lightly scratched his back, along the length of his spine. He hummed and rolled his shoulders, making the muscles in his back dance.

  When he turned back to me, he captured my hand and placed a gentle kiss on my palm. “Do you want to be on top?”

  I shook my head. “My legs are jelly.”

  “Are they?” He gave me a teasing smile as he positioned himself between them.

  My witty retort died on my lips when I felt him, suddenly, right there. He leaned down to kiss me, pushing strands of hair off my sweaty forehead as he rubbed his length up and down.

  Pulling back to look into my eyes, he reached between us, positioned himself at my entrance, and pushed in slowly, his eyes hooded, his teeth gritted. He got to what I guessed was halfway, then pulled back out, only to slide back in again.

  I moaned lightly, gripping his shoulders. My body was still sensitive from my orgasm, everything warm and relaxed, and I was surprised to find I wanted more. Would I ever get enough of Turner Hall? My back arched and my hips rolled, seeking more, more, more. The stretching sensation was new but felt good.

  Then he pushed farther in, and pain shot through my lower body. I winced and he stilled, kissed my cheek.

  “Breathe, Mena. Try to relax.”

  My fingers were digging into his shoulders, my abdominals clenching against the intrusion. With a deep breath and a conscious effort, I relaxed my muscles and nodded.

  He pulled out slowly, then pushed back in. There was pain again, but it wasn’t as bad this time, and now he was all the way in, his hips flush with mine.

  He smiled at me, and I smiled back before kissing him. He rolled his hips, grinding against me until I was panting and turning my head to the side in order to breathe.

  With a groan, he started sliding in and out of me, gently at first, his chest grazing against my breasts with every stroke. Then his pace increased, his movements becoming more frenzied and uneven.

  I reached one hand over my head, gripping the pillow, and dragged the other down his smooth back and all the way to his ass, fascinated by the way his muscles tightened and relaxed as he pumped his hips up and down, in and out.

  It wasn’t long before his whole body tensed and he released a long, low moan, burying his head in my neck as he came. Chest to chest, hearts beating frantically, we let our breathing even out for a few moments.

  Turner kissed the side of my neck, then my cheek, then my nose, and finally my lips. “You OK?”

  I smiled and kissed him again. “I’m perfect.”

  His returning smile was more than a little self-satisfied, and I couldn’t blame him. As far as first times went, this one was pretty damn great.

  He held the condom to the base of his penis as he pulled out. I wobbled to the bathroom and peed, relieved to see just a small amount of blood; cleaned up quickly; then returned to the dark room.

  Turner was back on the bed, a fresh pair of boxer briefs on. He opened his arms, and I snuggled into his side. We held each other in silence, just breathing, just being, as I stared at the bright moon framed by the window.

  That impassive, glowing sphere had witnessed my lowest moment and my highest peak all in one night.

  The night was so still and silent that the sound of a phone vibrating cut through it like a bullhorn. I glanced over my shoulder, but Turner tightened his hold on me. “They can leave a message.”

  His voice sounded sleepy, gritty. I was ready to drift off at any moment too.

  The phone buzzed again. We both sighed and waited for it to ring out.

  Barely a few seconds later, it rang again.

  With a growl, Turner reached for it, then frowned. “I don’t know this number.”

  He showed me the screen. It didn’t look familiar, so I shrugged.

  With another dissatisfied smile, he answered it. “Hello?”

  “Turner?” It wasn’t on speaker, but the panicked voice of a young girl cut through the silent room all the same. “I need your help. I need you to come get me. I’m—”

  Turner’s whole body tensed, and he sat up. “Jenny? What’s going on?”

  He rushed to the other side of the room and turned on the light, the sudden brightness making me wince. I couldn’t hear Jenny any longer as Turner rushed about the room, pulling his jeans up awkwardly.

  Without anything else to change into, I pulled on one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants from off the floor. The pants fit well around my hips, but I had to roll the legs up several times so I wouldn’t trip over them.

  “OK. I’m coming to get you.” He was keeping his voice calm for her, but I could hear the tremble in it. Worry churned in my gut as I pulled my sneakers onto my bare feet.

  “Jenny, take a deep
breath and listen carefully.” He stopped in the middle of the room, staring into space as he spoke quickly but clearly. “We’re going to hang up in a minute. As soon as we do, you need to throw the phone away, OK? Throw it as hard and as far as you can. They can use it to find you. Then go and hide. Do not come out until I get there.”

  He listened for a few seconds. I thought I could hear a scared little voice crying.

  “I’m already on my way. OK? Now go.”

  He hung up and turned his wide, panicked gaze to me.

  I handed him a T-shirt. “Turner, what’s going on? Is she OK?”

  He pulled it over his head and shoved his feet in a pair of sneakers, tying them as he answered. “I don’t know. She ran away from home. She’s terrified.” He stood and gripped my shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Mena, but I have to go get her. She’s in Oak Hill Park. I’ll have to sprint there.”

  “It’s OK.” I started to tell him to go get his little sister, then remembered Mom had picked Dad up on her way to my aunt and uncle’s. “Wait! We can take my dad’s car!”

  “Yeah? OK. Let’s go.”

  We were heading for the front door when the glint of the moon through the sliding door reminded me there was another way.

  “Turner!” I yanked on his arm. “The balcony will be faster. Can you break the glass or something?”

  “Good idea.” He ran into the kitchen and came back out with a butter knife, tucking it into his pocket.

  Out on his balcony, he reached over the dividing railing to unhook and push aside the bamboo screen, the first and now the last remaining barrier between us. With ease and athleticism, he launched himself over to my balcony, knocking the rickety little chair over, then helped me clamber across. I didn’t even have time to worry about how far the drop was before I was safely on the other side.

  Turner yanked on the flimsy old sliding door, shoving it sideways as much as the latch would allow. Then he used the butter knife to flick the latch up, and we were inside my apartment.

  I sprinted across the room and grabbed the car keys out of the little bowl as Turner wrenched the door open. After flicking the lock and slamming the door behind us, we tore down the corridor.