Devastated

by MIA HEINTZELMAN

  “You’ve barely touched your food,” his mother complained, but it was the throbbing vein in Quincy’s forehead that snagged my attention. He looked put out—like Xander personally wronged him—and I felt like we, Dad and me, had somehow landed in the middle of a lion’s den.

  “I can—” I began, but Xander already took my hand, practically dragging me into the hall.

  “What was that about?” I asked as he hustled me toward the dark hallway.

  He blew out a flustered breath and raked his long fingers through his amazing hair. He didn’t respond immediately, but his easy posture and cocky grin had been replaced by something…darker. A stone façade. His wicked mood apparent.

  Then in the next instant his shoulders were pushed back, and his half-lidded gaze was on me. I could feel my eyes go wide and round as I swallowed, not knowing what to expect, but when I parted my lips to venture a question, his mouth crashed down on mine.

  It was a hunch, but if this was the welcome I got at an uppity dinner party, maybe Desert Badlands Academy wasn’t going to be so bad. This beautiful storm with his delicious mouth on mine might be just what I needed. If nothing else, I sensed it wouldn’t be long before my drought was over.

  Chapter Two

  XANDER

  This girl has no clue what she’s doing here.

  Both my hands were still flat against the wall as I tore my lips away, breathless, heart rapping against my ribs, and studied Izabelle Waters at a whisper’s distance. I saw right through her Daddy’s little girl routine. So polite and quiet, with her big brown doe eyes and full lips.

  Fuck.

  Why are they here? She doesn’t belong here.

  A grunt escaped me, and it was all I could do not to fuck her right there in the hall with our parents in the next room just to prove my point.

  “What…did I do something wrong?” she asked. Her eyes fell, her posture sheepish and vulnerable, but she wasn’t innocent. I knew girls who were naïve and untainted, and this girl wasn’t one of them. Izabelle knew exactly what she was doing with her short black dress and her wild, dark coils all loose and sexy. Innocent girls didn’t wear wine-stained red lipstick over a filthy mouth like that. They didn’t walk willingly right into my father’s snare.

  Did I do something wrong?

  It’s always the same questions. “Did I do something wrong?” “What do you want from me?” “Why are you like this?”

  She wasn’t fooling anyone. But, as expected, all it took was her appearance in my house to get her caught up in dear old Daddy’s crosshairs.

  “Don’t fucking tell my dad anything about you,” I warned Izabelle, and her heavy brows dipped as she shook her head vehemently. Her shoulders tensed and her eyes went wide.

  It was more than evident, we both knew she shouldn’t be here in this house, or at Badlands for that matter. And Mom, opening her fucking mouth to invite her back here, like she’s welcome. And to my party.

  Fuck.

  Her eyes darted past me down the hall.

  Oh, so Daddy doesn’t know his sweet little girl isn’t so sweet anymore?

  A laugh bubbled up inside me. No, she wouldn’t tell my father anything.

  But Izabelle didn’t know the why or think for a second to question the request. What was I going to say? My father is a sick fuck with a fetish for virgins—and he feeds off their innocence?

  My eyes immediately fell to her now reddish-pink, swollen lips and the hungry expression on her face.

  She wanted me to finish, and who was I not to oblige?

  I blinked a few times and nodded as heat seared through me and settled low and deep.

  Yeah, let’s play this game and see if you ever want to come back.

  Izabelle’s chest rose and fell, her breasts pressed against me when I slid my left hand down the wall and found her smooth thigh. She gasped, and fuck if it wasn’t the hottest thing ever.

  “My dad is in the other room,” she said, as if it was the only thing stopping her from being a willing participant. Her fear was adorable. Initially I brought her into the hall to put some space in front of her, get her out of dear ol’ Dad’s line of sight, but I didn’t expect to be affected.

  “I saw you watching me.” I crawled my fingers beneath her dress. My skin blazed with every inch of her, but when I reached the thin satin fabric of her panties, Izabelle clutched my hand.

  She didn’t blink. “I’m serious. I can’t hurt him.”

  “Do you want me?” I asked.

  “We just met.” The way her voice choked, I guessed it was less in response to my question and more like she was trying to convince herself. Her hand was still wrapped tight around my wrist, but her pelvis was pressed firmly against the growing hard-on in my pants.

  “But you aren’t stopping me, Izabelle.” The words came out on a whisper, but in the moment, it was clear she liked the darker side of me. They always did at first.

  She sighed, releasing the sexiest little coarse quiver as she glanced down the hall again. She was seemingly still grappling with the truth behind my words when her grip loosened. Before she could say another word, I pried her open and slipped two fingers inside her wet folds. Her breathing hitched and I knew I’d found her spot.

  “Xander?” Mom’s sinewy voice tore through my haze, pinballing off the walls from the dining room. Izabelle tensed, frozen with fear, but the possibility of getting caught only made it hotter. I stuck another finger inside, feeling her slick, hot flesh.

  “Yes, Mother?”

  “We’re headed into the parlor,” she said. “As soon as you’re finished showing Izzy around, please join us.”

  I hummed some noncommittal sound of agreement.

  Yeah, I’ll get right on that.

  I returned my attention to Izabelle. “May I call you Izabelle? I don’t much care for the nickname.”

  She nodded and wrapped her toned legs around me, her back arched fully. The temptation to take her right there against the wall pulsed and throbbed over my skin, but I couldn’t yet.

  She moaned and bucked around the rhythm of my hand. The darkest part of me didn’t give a fuck, but with her father leaving and her late enrollment at Badlands—the fucking wasteland of misfits—there was plenty of time. This was just laying the groundwork—marking my territory.

  I covered her mouth with mine to keep her silent, my tongue searching and savoring, but it only slightly muffled the sound.

  With every second, my interest in knowing more about this new siren grew.

  “Bite your tongue,” I instructed, and she obeyed, which only proved to turn me on further. I pushed in deeper and slid the pad of my thumb over her clit, sending a tremble over her.

  She was still holding onto me, panting, moaning. I fucking hated how much I loved it. I hiked her dress all the way up until it circled her neck and burrowed my mouth into her black bra. Fuck. She was softer and sweeter than I imagined.

  As she shivered and quaked, digging her nails into my back, I held steady.

  When she was finished, I slowly lowered her feet to the floor and tasted her on my fingers.

  Sweet all the way to her core.

  I found myself still watching her as she regained her footing and straightened her panties, bra and dress. How she could still be sheepish and coy when she just came all over my hand, I couldn’t fathom.

  It wasn’t the reaction I expected.

  Even the girls who weren’t innocent, they beamed with power and plotted their next tryst before the orgasm was over, but not this one. Izabelle Waters recoiled back into her downcast eyes and folded arms.

  But then she looked up at me with half-lidded eyes. “Here, let me…” She swiped the pad of her thumb over my lips. “You had a little lipstick.”

  I watched her for a few seconds longer before finally leading her by her fingertips into my father’s parlor. With its mix of dark navy and hunter green hues and wooden surfaces, it was more of a trophy room than a place to smoke cigars and drink brandy. It was
his man cave, complete with a taxidermy zoo covering the walls and a formidable, almost haunting fireplace at the helm.

  By the way Izabelle gawked, open-mouthed, she seemed intimidated, although at the same time, like she was gathering details for some later use. Likely to refine her judgment of the perfect household my mother worked so hard to pull off.

  While she was busy taking it all in, I noticed a small shift in my father’s stance. He shot me an icy stare, and by the way his nostrils quivered, and his eyes tightened, I figured my time with Izabelle in the hall was well spent.

  “Izzy,” her dad’s voice echoed off the maple walls as he welcomed her back. The tic at his jaw when he saw our fingertips touching was noteworthy, albeit short-lived. But worth it to see the fire blaze in his eyes.

  She won’t be your little girl for long.

  Immediately, she corrected her oversight by dropping my hand and walking the few feet over to close the distance between them.

  Reassurance.

  It appeared we weren’t the only family putting our best foot forward this evening.

  “So…how’d you like the house?” His brows were still braided together as he scrutinized me.

  To her credit, Izabelle didn’t miss a beat. She flushed and plastered on a winning smile as she shook her head, as if in awe. “Dad…I can’t even tell you how amazing this house is. It’s even bigger than it looks. The rooms, the bathrooms,” she listed, seemingly careful, calculated enough not to give too many details as she turned toward Mom. “You have a beautiful home.”

  No. Izzy wasn’t innocent. Subtle. Careful with others’ feelings. But not to be underestimated in the least.

  Mom gushed, modestly pressing her hand over her breast. “Oh, I’m so glad. We’re really proud of our home.”

  As expected, Dad moved to Mom’s side.

  Ah, the united front.

  But, like I always did whenever there was prey in the room, I watched his eyes, the way they roamed, scraping the surface, ravenous to get deeper. They crawled the length of Izabelle’s willowy body. From her feet to her tight ass, up to her perky breasts and the delicate curve of her still-flushed neck, he was itching for more—jonesing to scratch it.

  He glided his tongue over his lips—until he noticed me watching and straightened.

  Yes, Father. I see you. I always see you.

  My dad was everything I hated about money and sex and power—what they did to a man. Quincy Gale was the reason I went to the darkest lengths not to be like him.

  “What I want to know is how much my little girl is going to miss me.” Mr. Waters sidled up to Izabelle and put his arm over her shoulder with a squeeze. “Six months is way too long.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment, then smiled up at him. “I know, Dad. Way too long.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the equine program. They’ll be lucky to have you, Izzy. Quincy was just telling me the stables are world-renowned. Beautiful paddocks, horse barns, tack rooms. There are farriers and veterinarians on staff. The facility sounds amazing.” Mr. Waters turned to Dad. “You know Izzy worked a few summers shadowing an equine vet. She loves horses. To tell you the truth, the relationship she has with them is far better than the ones she has with humans.”

  I opened my mouth to join in the conversation but rethought it and continued listening. The more I learned about Izabelle Waters, the easier it would be to send her back to whatever hole she crawled out of.

  My dad said, “We owned a Saddlebred a few years back, but you know what they say. Horses will eat you out of house and home. My board bill looked like a mortgage.”

  Mr. Waters laughed a deep, guttural laugh, and I rolled my eyes because the pissing contest was getting old. It wasn’t even a contest.

  They were all the same, my dad’s friends. It was always about who you knew and how much you had. Derek Waters knew Quincey Gale, and apparently, even when it was nothing, you still boasted about the shine of the pennies. The best in one-upmanship.

  Frankly, the whole night was getting stale and I was about ready to excuse myself, maybe take Izabelle back to the hallway, when I looked over. She was watching me again. There was definitely something intriguing, alluring about her. I raked my fingers through my hair and sniffed them as I met her gaze, only to be met with a sexy smile toying at her lips. And just in case she’d forgotten, I slipped my middle finger in my mouth and sucked.

  Oh, it’s a shame I have to ruin this one.

  Chapter Three

  IZZY

  My goals were simple: blend in, get settled, and stay as far under the radar as possible. Which wouldn’t have been too hard considering the whole uniform requirement. I would have preferred black, but I was okay with the Navy blazer and white button-down. It was the ridiculously short burgundy skirt and the matching gold and burgundy tie that was going to take some getting used to. I couldn’t wait for Xander to see me wearing it.

  It did do wonders for my legs.

  If I was being honest with myself, I wanted to be as hot on the outside as I was for him on the inside. I gladly embraced the last two hours of my sleepless night to rub one out, so I didn’t resort to jumping his bones in the middle of the quad on day one.

  After a quick online hair and makeup tutorial, I ended up arriving at the Edelberg Statue for my tour at a quarter to seven. Wild, loose curls and a light smoky eye accented a high-gloss lip. I was show-ready, only the show hadn’t started yet.

  While I waited, I took in my surroundings. The sun had yet to shine the full extent of its light on the academy grounds. It was a huge, stony castle in comparison to my old schools. The trickling water display at the statue, the main tower of the Edelberg Building, and the two dorms branching from it, were a scene straight out of a book—an old, tattered first edition worth billions. It screamed money, like everything else about this little pinprick on the globe.

  Mrs. Foster, the Student Outreach Liaison walked up ten minutes later. “How was your first night in the dormitory, dear?” In a crisp navy pantsuit with light makeup, tasteful gold jewelry, and her auburn hair pulled into a low bun, she was all business. She even walked with purpose, leading me through a side corridor to the library, seemingly ready to hurry and check me off her to-do list.

  “Fine, thank you.”

  Since I was starting in the middle of the semester, I didn’t get the usual student guide with side notes and social commentary, I got the abridged, need-to-know-only version. She wasted no time showing me the study halls, lecture halls, laboratories, and the amphitheater, before bypassing the girls’ dorms—since I’d obviously already found my way there—and simply gesturing with a long, pointy finger at the boys’ dorms.

  “I trust you slept well?”

  “Yes, thanks.” I rushed to keep up with her, sweating despite the cool desert morning.

  The halls were beginning to fill with students, and I found myself searching for Xander in the sea of faces.

  “I’m surprised there were any available rooms. Who is your roommate?” She glanced back at me, only vague interest in her expression as we cornered into another corridor and entered the dining hall.

  Apparently, the dorm room question was the rich equivalent of shooting the breeze.

  “I don’t have a roommate.” I braced myself for a disapproving reaction much like Evelyn Gale’s, but this was much worse.

  Mrs. Foster stopped cold, her clacking heels skidding on the tile. “What room did you say you were in?” She drummed her fingers against her legs.

  “214.”

  It was barely noticeable, but her shoulders tensed, and though she seemed like she was trying not to, Mrs. Foster gasped. Her expression turned severe, with tight lines and a sharp dip of her brows.

  “That was—”

  “What? What’s wrong with my room?”

  I searched her face, but she pressed her lips together and, as quickly as the flash of terror appeared, it was gone, smoothed away. She blinked, ironing out the crea
ses in the faint crow’s feet and heavy laugh lines. Again, her fidgety fingers pressed at an invisible wrinkle in her starched pants. My heart bottomed out and I made a mental note to buy a black light and gloves before going back to my room tonight.

  “Nothing.” She kept her eyes forward and forced a tight smile. “As I said, I’m surprised there was a room available.” And that was the end of it, because she flipped her business mode switch back on. “Very good. Our first-year students usually sit there.” She gestured toward two rows of tables in the far back corner. “But, even though this is your first year, since you’re a senior, sit wherever you feel most at ease.”

  So, I guess I’ll sit nowhere then.

  An hour later, after she gave me a packet with a map and a list of facilities and emergency contacts, I was late into the dark lecture hall of my first period. Most of the seats were taken, but from my position at the door I spotted an empty one a few rows from the back and beelined for it. Except, right when I walked up, the guy on the end propped his long leg up on the back of the chair in front of him.

  “Excuse me. Is anyone sitting there?” I whispered and nodded to the chair with all of his junk and flashed him a smile, to which he sighed dramatically. And loudly.

  The professor was a youngish brunette with angry eyes, and thanks to Mr. Laidback, she zeroed in on me.

  “Good of you to join us, Miss…” she trailed off, and I was freaking livid. All I wanted to do was sit down, stick my Airpods in, and get through the rest of the day until I could find out what the deal was with my room.

  “Waters.” I glared at the asshat.

  At which point, I saw him flick his notebook to the floor. “Would you mind getting that for me, new girl?” His brow arched.

  And so it begins.

  I bent over to grab his notebook and… The lights. The snickers. The whistles sounding off along with a few other inappropriate noises about my ass, my pink lace panties, and getting me out of them. I’d completely forgotten about the skirt. I snapped upright and turned to the back of the room.