by Leia Thorne
Because there’s absolutely no thrill in dominating a beautiful mare like Sawyer. I don’t want to see her wilted beneath me, catatonic, a listless servant. I want to see her liquid green eyes smeared with mascara as her face goes lax with unrivaled desire. I want to see her on her knees as she begs me to fuck her ever-loving brains out.
I want her to come to me and submit.
That’s true power. That’s unadulterated love.
And before the day comes that we sign our names on the fucking dotted lines, Sawyer Van Doren will be mine. Utterly.
Obsession went out the window a long time ago. No, this is pure fucking neurosis.
“Gage, you should eat something.”
It’s Palmer’s lilting voice that draws me out of my dark thoughts. She’s sitting cross-legged next to Sawyer and Remi, and it seems she’s pushed her jealousy aside for now. At least long enough to make Remi comfortable in the group.
Sawyer did good with her. Palmer may get out of line every now and then, but ultimately, she’s a loyal member. She’d cut her hand off if Sawyer said it would make her happy.
Rush slaps together his sandwich and takes a giant bite. “You know what would be better than this?” he says around his food. “A Remer sandwich.”
Palmer laughs. “What the hell is that?”
Rush tosses his food down on the tray, then smacks Sawyer and Remi’s backsides. “A Remi and Sawyer sandwich. A Remer, get it?”
Crass fucker. “That’s a little tasteless, don’t you think?”
He holds my stare, his smile turning smug. “I think it would be quite tasteful, actually. How about I test it out and let you know.”
He’s trying to push my buttons. Challenge authority. He doesn’t care to have Remi as a girlfriend. That’s not Rush’s style. He only wants to lay claim to her because of what happened between him and Lesley. He truly cared for her; she didn’t reciprocate his feelings.
Poor baby.
And in some capacity, he blames me. Sawyer was right when she said we needed to nix his attitude right after the incident. I’ve given him too much free rein.
I thought he’d work it out of his system with the whole indulgence in drugs. But seems he’s found another unhealthy way of coping.
Defying me.
That’s a dangerous pastime.
Sawyer glances at me and cocks an eyebrow. She’s picked up on the challenge, which was about as subtle as a glove smacked across my face.
I wave a hand through the air dismissively. “You know who’s permission you need.”
Rush gets to his knees and addresses Sawyer. “Please, sweet, hot-ass Sawyer. May I make a Remer?”
Sawyer rolls her eyes and turns toward Remi. “Unfortunately, as a member, you’re going to have to deal with Rush’s insatiable appetite and ludicrous demands.”
Remi sets her carrot stick down and flicks a glance my way. Good girl. I give her a small nod of approval.
Rush takes note of that action and climbs to his feet, undoing his shorts. “Yeah. Sawyer’s approval. Right,” he mutters. He pushes the food tray out of the way and holds out a hand toward Sawyer. “Get your sweet ass naked and on the floor.”
She takes his hand and sits up on her knees, proceeding to remove her bikini top.
I observe a sulky Palmer seated beside Emry on the sidelines. If Sawyer isn’t careful, she could lose her most loyal devotee. I make a mental note to talk to Palmer soon; see how she’s fairing with a new addition, and Sawyer lavishing all her affection her way.
Emry continues to eat, barely paying attention to the girls undressing right in front of him. This is old hat to him, and not even a new member can sway his fidelity away from Palmer. If there was ever a poster child for being whipped, it’d be Emry’s face plastered on the billboard.
Still, he takes directives obediently. Which makes him my most trusted member. I know that when I call on him in the future, no matter how he and Palmer fair through college, he’ll be there.
Rush directs the girls where he wants them, while Sawyer and Remi laugh at the absurdity. Remi is lying on her back, with Sawyer on top of her. “Is this how you pictured us, Rush?” Sawyer asks.
He holds up a finger. “Almost. I need lube.” He jogs to the kitchen and searches the cabinets, coming back with cooking spray. He shakes the can.
“What? Oh, I don’t think so…” Sawyer starts to move, but Rush places a hand to her back.
“It’s the same damn ingredients as…” He reads the label. “Vegetable oil.”
Remi laughs, and Sawyer shakes her head. “Do not get that anywhere near my vag,” Sawyer says.
Rush angles Sawyer’s ass up so he can spurt the spray on Remi’s pelvis. I’m seconds away from leaving the room, as this seems to be heading toward a disastrous outcome fast. But as Rush kneels behind the girls, stroking himself ready, the atmosphere changes.
Remi and Sawyer look damn hot together. Their tits pressed together, Sawyer’s thighs cradling Remi’s hips. Their pussies touching. I’m starting to get a semi-erection just watching them looking at each other.
Rush massages Sawyer’s ass, encouraging the girls to wiggle their hips. “Just like that. Work in that cooking spray.” He positions his cock at the apex where their clits touch, the tip sliding into place between their pussies and soft pelvic area.
Remi releases a soft giggle. “That tickles a little.”
“Just you wait,” Rush says. “Once I get primed, this is going to be one spicy sandwich. Uh,” he groans as he thrusts hard between them. “Ah, fuck yeah. Grind those pussies together.”
He braces his hands on Sawyer’s hips as he rams against them. “Eeny meeny miny moe, which is to be the first hole.” He slips out and plunges his shaft into Sawyer’s cunt. “Oh, fuck yeah, baby. Clench up tight.”
His gaze lifts up to spear me, that fucking smug grin on his smirking face. “How damn frustrated is Gage that he can’t get a piece of this hotness—” He smacks Sawyer’s ass.
Rage doesn’t become me easily. I pride myself on always being in control of my emotions and mindset. It’s not the first time Rush has used Sawyer to try to get a rise out of me. In truth, he’s showing his weakness in trying to reveal mine.
But there’s someone in this room that is far less in control of her polarizing emotions. Palmer gets to her feet and stomps toward Rush. “Get off, Rush.”
He drives into Sawyer harder. “I’m trying to…”
Palmer looks at me and frowns. She wants me to intervene, to stake my claim on Sawyer once and for all and end the futility. She’s told me more than once. But she’s been trained well enough to know how to handle this without blowing up and losing her cool.
I tilt my head, waiting for her to figure it out.
She sighs, then drops down next to Rush. “That’s not even the hottest way to make a sandwich,” she says. “Here. Let me show you something better.”
Rush halts, giving her a curious look, but she’s speaking to his debaucherous nature. He can’t deny Palmer anything, because he knows all too well how damn hot she can be when she wants.
He removes himself from Sawyer, and Remi takes the opportunity for the break. I worked her over pretty good earlier. I’m still satisfied from that. As Palmer helps Sawyer to stand beside her, I pat the space on my right, beckoning Remi to join me.
She wraps her shawl around her and sits next to me. “Is Rush always so confrontational?” she asks.
I smile at that. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
“Well, I figured douchebag was too—”
“On point?” I look at her and wink.
She shrugs. “There’s some obvious strife there,” she says.
“His strife has nothing to do with me or Sawyer.” I lower my voice. “He’s still dealing with his grief. He’s been acting out. Big jocks like Rush…they just need an outlet.”
Remi’s dark eyes study me. Maybe I said too much. Or maybe she needs another push. I know she’s been making her o
wn connections to Lesley, putting the pieces together. This topic is another tightrope, so I tread carefully.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and nod to the three of them. “How much do you want to wager that one of them pulls a hamstring and busts their ass?”
Remi looks their way and laughs. Palmer is obviously trying to pull some ballet or acrobatic move. She has Rush on his back, and she and Sawyer are ass-to-ass, with their asses poised over his cock.
“I’m going soft here,” Rush says. “Dammit.”
“Just wait,” Palmer says. She reaches back and links her arms with Sawyer’s, then directs her to lower herself down at the same time that she does.
On their knees, their asses positioned over Rush’s dick, it’s almost comical. But when Rush slides his cock between their ass cheeks, he curses. “Fuck me… Palmer, you dirty, dirty girl.”
Palmer beams. She is a dirty, dirty girl—and she got what she most wanted; Sawyer back together with her. That’s how it was before and after Lesley. Palmer never took to her the way Rush or even Emry did. And she’s always been selfish when it comes to Sawyer’s attention.
When Tabitha de Pont demanded to know who murdered her daughter, I admit, I wasn’t shocked she went there. Despite what the newspapers say, regardless of how the death was ruled, there are a number of people who had reason to want Lesley gone.
Majority of them right here in this room.
“Palmer is creative,” Remi says, watching the show.
Rush cups either girls’ ass cheeks as he thrusts upward, working his cock between them. “That’s it…ah yeah. Work that ass.”
Palmer giggles. “Which one?”
Rush groans long and hard. “Both of you. Damn, girl. Emry, your girl is a dirty-minded mastermind.”
Sawyer snickers. “That’s so redundant.”
“Fuck yeah, it is. I’m a jock, not a brain. And…shit. I’m about to come so fucking hard.”
The girls take gratification in making Rush so turned on he’s about to nut, and undulate faster, speeding their rhythm. Every time they slide down, Rush thrusts his cock up and twitches a little. “Too much stimulation…slow down…ah fuck…”
He grabs ahold of their thighs and thrusts hard, his cock shooting off a load right there between their ass cheeks. But they don’t stop wiggling, and he practically convulses from the overstimulation. “Fuck…come on! My dick is sensitive—”
Palmer finally stops and rises easily to her feet, her nimble dancer’s form graceful in even the most awkward positions. She helps Sawyer stand next, then looks down at a worn Rush. “Next time don’t smack my girl’s ass like that to taunt Gage. Got it?”
Rush drives a hand through his hair. “Yes, ma’am. You’re the slutty goddess.”
Palmer kicks him playfully before Rush sits up. “I’m going to wash off in the pool,” he says.
Emry finally looks up from his phone. “That’s disgusting.”
Rush shrugs as he heads off to the deck. “Not my job to clean the jizz from the skimmer.”
Palmer gawks at him. “You’re not even going to make sure we’re satisfied?”
“That’s what you got your man for, right?” Rush looks back at them and effects a pout that rivals Palmer’s. Then he glances between me and Sawyer, shaking his head. “You’ll figure it out.” He dives head-first into the pool.
“I don’t want to overstep my bounds…” Palmer says, as she wiggles in next to Emry on the floor. “But, Gage, I think it’s time you handled that.”
That referring to Rush’s obstinance.
I push onto my feet and approach Palmer as Sawyer wraps herself in a thin white robe. Bracing my hands on Palmer’s face, I lift her eyes to meet mine. “Is Rush disappointing you lately?”
She nods against my hands.
“What would make you feel better?”
Her dark eyes slip in Sawyer’s direction, and I smile. “I’ll work on it,” I tell her.
Her soft smile meets her eyes and she nods. Then she goes back to Emry to entice him to follow her to one of the other cabins.
I turn toward Sawyer. “Maybe you should join them,” I say. “Palmer’s feeling neglected.”
She’s holding up a makeup compact while she combs her fingers through her hair. “I’m two for two on the zero orgasms for Sawyer front, so I think I’ll pass.” She lifts her chin defiantly and snaps the compact closed. “Thanks for the lovely yacht party, Gage. It’s been real.” She disappears into the guest cabin and calls out, “I’m taking a nap.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare after her, the tension in my shoulders causing my neck to ache. I glance up at the black-glass bulb in the corner. Mrs. de Pont won’t approve of dissention in the ranks. I’m sure I’ll be getting a message soon.
I need to regain control over this society. My focus has been too diverted lately.
I feel Remi’s soft hand clasp mine and I look down as she laces her fingers through mine. “My dad texted,” she says. “I need to go home, before he actually starts caring where I am.”
“That makes sense.” I kiss her forehead. “Grab your things. I’ll drive you.”
While Remi is getting dressed in the guest bathroom, I brace my hands on the doorjamb, watching Sawyer on the bed where I fucked Remi. She’s curled under the covers, tabbing through her phone. Giving me the stone-cold silent treatment.
Between her and Rush, I have more than just a little damage control to tend to.
I stalk toward the bed and nudge the edge to get her attention. She doesn’t look up from her phone screen. In a society built on secrets, there’s one truth I can count on: no one gets under my skin the way Sawyer does.
My control slips a fraction, and I lean over the bed and grab her ankles. I drag her body down the mattress until she’s directly beneath me, where I can see her face.
“What the fuck—?” she stammers.
“You’re doing a poor job with Palmer,” I say, my teeth gritted. “Earlier wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t a request.” I bite back my anger as I gently brush the blond hair from her eyes. “Go join Palmer and Emry. Now. I wasn’t the only one you hurt with your little kiss last night.”
Sawyer’s emerald-green eyes widen, her breathing intense, as she stares right back at me. Then, with measured grace, she sits forward. I move away as she swings her legs over the bed and stands.
She still says nothing as she tosses off the robe and casually drapes it around my neck, before she saunters past me naked. I hold back the bark of laughter that wants to break free at her defiant display, and instead smack her ass hard as she passes by.
Remi opens the bathroom door, her face creased in worry. “Everything all right?”
A practiced smile eases into place. I toss the robe on the bed. “Always. Let’s go.”
On the drive to Remi’s house, I realize something I’d been blatantly ignoring. I thought Remi’s admission into the Broken Saints was the conduit that stirred the tension pot—but that might only be one small factor.
There’s something much bigger simmering beneath the surface. Homecoming is right around the corner.
Oh, Sawyer. It’s anniversary time.
Chapter 6
Sawyer
The anniversary of Lesley de Pont’s death is upon Brighton Saints Academy.
Black banners featuring black-and-white school portraits of Lesley stretch across the gothic arches. Students wear black yarn bracelets in remembrance. The school counselor has requested all teachers recite a canned speech to their students about suicide. To remind us that we are heard and valued.
The official anniversary will land on the same weekend as homecoming.
Nelson Winters—head of the school council—has put forth a petition to move the date for the homecoming dance. This is logical. But then there is another petition to counter it, and somehow, Lesley’s name has wound up on the ballot for homecoming queen.
Let me repeat: They want to crown a dead girl homecoming queen.
Oh, and there’s also talk about erecting a memorial in the academy courtyard.
A group has decided—unofficially—to meet at Lesley’s actual memorial in Valley Park. A fountain designed by some pretentious artist the town hired. Sadie Bishop, head cheerleader, is leading this little attention-seeking stunt. She didn’t even like Lesley. The vapid bitch treated her in much the same way as she treated Remi when she first started—like a threat.
Honestly, Lesley is more popular dead than she ever was alive.
I find a seat on the hallway bench and pull out my phone. Open the app and scroll through Lesley’s profile feed. Her page is lit up like her birthday—all of Brighton posting on her wall, saying prayers for her in heaven.
I roll my eyes. If she’s in heaven, then she doesn’t need prayers. No, if anyone needs prayers, it’s the unfortunate lemmings of this academy.
I look up as a sea of students parts for the school’s newest it girl. Just a month ago, Remi St. James was new-girl leprosy. Her backstory wasn’t that interesting, with a lawyer father with a small practice who inherited his parents’ money, and a dead mother no one had ever heard of.
Now, Remi is on the tips of everyone’s tongues. She’s hot. She’s edgy. She’s the new me.
I should know; I built her reputation.
Had I never wrapped a metaphorical (and literal) arm around her on her second day here, her scars and that gaudy tattoo would’ve tanked her high school career the first day she changed out for gym class.
Not to mention she was timid and withdrawn. Or maybe that was all just an act. Her confession during the initiation makes me seriously wonder. Good little girls don’t get fucked up and then call Mommy from parties.
But, I can’t judge her too harshly on that, I suppose. We’ve all made mistakes.
I glance up at the wafting banner of Lesley’s face, and a shiver races down my spine.
As long as Remi’s skeletons don’t come tumbling out of her closet to trip any of us up, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Because again, there’s something about her that I truly do like.
She’s got real potential. Taking charge in the tub yesterday like a pro. Wrapping Gage around her little finger in a single afternoon. That takes skills. I think back to the moment she walked out of the guest cabin all freshly fucked. Her skin aglow. Buzzing. Benefits of a proper Gage fuck. I still feel achy with the reminder.
