by Leia Thorne
I’m not sure what, but something happened between them in that bedroom. I saw it on Gage’s face. He’s fucked half the state by now, and yet one tiny high school girl whipped him?
Right. It’s either a farce, or she’s the urban myth come to life—a real live magic pussy.
I almost laugh out loud. I’m letting Gage’s games get to me. That’s all it is. I need to stay focused on what’s important.
The merger.
Once we’re clear of all the red tape, and I have my name firmly in place in gold letterhead, I can toy with Gage as much as I want. Do any little filthy thing to him to torture him…but not until then.
I like Gage all twisted up, his hormones clogging his brain cells. He’s much easier to deal with in this capacity. He doesn’t have time to scheme.
Like whatever his scheme is with Lesley’s mother. After a little digging, I discovered that the owner of the yacht just happens to be Mrs. de Pont. Gage may have been savvy enough to rent the penthouse on a lark, but how the hell did he gain access to her fucking yacht?
This makes me nervous. Gage’s secrets have secrets—and if I want to stay ahead, I need to uncover them all.
Remi catches me looking her way and she smiles brightly. I return the smile, watching her wave to people like she’s known them her whole life as she heads to her locker. She’s a new, better version of herself. And she’s owning it.
“Her uniform even fits her better,” Palmer says, reading my mind as she approaches. She takes the bench seat next to me and crosses her long legs, then uncrosses them. She sighs heavily and slumps against the wall.
Ever since this past weekend, where we initiated Remi into the Broken Saints and I kissed Remi, Palmer has been sulking, jealous. She’s not even trying to conceal this fact. Like a child seeking her mother’s attention, Palmer needs to be made to feel special again.
After Gage’s brash reaction on the yacht, where he “encouraged” me to set things right with Palmer, I did make an attempt. Not because of his ruthless demand, but because I know it’s the right thing to do for her. And because, honestly, I didn’t want to give Gage any opportunity to turn Palmer against me.
However, she and Emry were in the throes or their marathon lovemaking. Which usually lasts forever, so it was best to let him comfort her. Now we’re here, and she’s still pouting.
I turn my knees toward her and take her hand in mine. “Remi’s just enjoying the newness of it all,” I say. “Remember how you felt?”
She nods listlessly.
“Anyway”—I pull her up beside me—“it’s nice to have another girl in the group, don’t you think? A bit of equal ground with the boys.”
This perks her up. “Is that why you…kissed her?” Her gaze hesitantly meets mine. “To put Gage in his place?”
I smile wanly. “Exactly.” I assure her. “He’s been getting a little too cocky and determined lately,” I say, as I steer us through the hallway, arms linked together. “Honestly, Palm, he was wearing me down. You’ve seen how he’s been lately. Now I don’t have to worry about him constantly harassing me. He has Remi to keep him occupied now.”
She smiles at this, no longer feeling rejected by my choice to bestow my affections on Remi instead of her. “I get it. Gage has been extra intense ever since… You know.”
Yes, I do know. After the event, we’ve all been extra intense. Graduation can’t come soon enough, for fuck’s sake.
I stop walking and face Palmer. To help ensure that her trust in me is completely restored, I cup her face and press a soft kiss to her lips. Her breath catches as I pull away.
There’s a whoop from a group of guys standing at their lockers, and I glance their way with a severer scowl to shup them down. A little farther away, I notice Brighton’s resident loner eyeing me from his locker. My mouth curves into a mischievous smile as I watch Roland Masters quickly avert his gaze.
I look at Palmer. “You know that I would never intentionally hurt you,” I say.
Her large, almond-shaped eyes blink at me. “I know,” she says.
I smile. “Good.” I kiss the air beside her cheek. “I need to ask Remi something before class. Text me at lunch.”
I hike my backpack higher on my shoulder as I walk toward Remi. She has a cute black ribbon in her hair today with a tumble of loose, auburn waves cascading over her shoulders, looking the part of our inner circle. I smile until I glimpse the silver ring on her finger. Like a blow to the stomach, the reminder that the ring once belonged to Lesley hits me dead-on.
According to the official police report, Lesley wasn’t wearing it when the paramedics arrived at the scene of her death.
I clear my throat, tossing a calculated look over my shoulder at Roland, before I give my attention to Remi. “Dress shopping today. We’re cutting last period.”
She loops a strand of hair around her ear. “Okay… But what happens when Mrs. Campbell asks me tomorrow—”
I hold up a hand. “She won’t. An excuse slip from your father has already been submitted to the office” I smile brightly. “You’re welcome.”
She laughs. “That’s crazy.”
“That’s elite, girl.” I flick my gaze toward the boy next to me, then I bend over to straighten my knee-highs, making sure my uniform skirt rides up just right to give him a peek of my panties.
After being left so unsatisfied this past weekend, I have an itch to scratch.
If Remi notices, she doesn’t let on. She closes her locker. “I should get to first block.”
“I’ll walk you to the staircase.” I link my arm through hers and direct us toward the grand stairwell.
“Do you know Roland?” she asks. Obviously, she observed my less than stealthy display.
“Who doesn’t? His father was all over the news just a few months back.” I sigh heavily. “It’s a shame, too. Had that never have happened, he was my choice for a new member.”
“Really?”
I nod slowly. “But now he’s Brighton leprosy,” I say, tossing a look his way. “Too bad. A boy like that has real potential.”
She grips her pack straps, bites her lip.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says, but then rolls her eyes. “Roland said some things to me. He doesn’t seem like he’d be too apt to join.”
I shrug. “Lots of people say some things—” I step in front of her “—most of it in envy. Rejection stings.” I let that sink in. “Regardless, it’s a moot point now. No one, not even the loser stoners, go near him.” I nudge her shoulder. “Besides, I’m glad I won the bet and we got you.”
“Bet?” she questions.
“Yeah, I thought Gage told you. He didn’t think you’d actually join our society. But I knew you would, that you were the perfect fit.”
It happens fast, but I catch the downturn of her lips. Doubt. It’s a dangerous seed. It sprouts into full-blown distrust if nurtured properly.
I’m not aiming to turn Remi against Gage. I know that would prove too difficult a task. Rather, I just want to keep her trust between us even. I can’t have her going full-blown whipped over him.
We stop walking, paused before the stone stairs.
There’s a black-and-silver banner strung right over the top of the stairwell. Lesley’s beautiful, smiling face peers down on us. Remi’s body tenses beside me. I feel her arm go rigid against mine.
“It’s terrible, right?” I say, shaking my head. “This time last year, the halls were plastered with homecoming banners. Now… She’s everywhere.”
After a moment of silence, Remi removes her arm. “I should head to first block.”
I kiss the air beside her cheek. “Meet us out front before last period. Don’t forget.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and her ring catches my eye again. The crest of a cross and keys and engraved initials that states she belongs to the Broken Saints Society. “Of course.” Lip gloss-coated lips turn up in a tight smile before she bounds off to her
first class.
I watch her go, her uniform skirt swishing back and forth with her hurried steps. Then I look up at the banner, at the girl who we lost. That night comes back to me in haunting clarity…and I hear the shattering scream…
I startle at the abrupt ring of the bell.
Shit. I press my hand over my heart, then laugh at myself. Get a grip, Sawyer. It’s just a fucking banner.
I send Gage a text: Skip first block. I need to see you.
When he doesn’t text back right away, I pocket my phone and lean against the railing. The uneasy sense of being watched touches the back of my neck, and I look down the hallway. Roland is staring at me, a hateful gleam in his slate-gray eyes. I smirk, raising an eyebrow in dare. I crook my finger at him, then head off down the hallway.
I make it to the supply closet and, as I grasp the doorknob, a hand closes over mine.
“You need to stop.” Roland’s deep baritone touches my skin.
Turning around, I keep his hand linked behind my back. “Stop what?” I push the door open and walk us inside the dark room. I drop my backpack to the floor.
Roland kicks the door shut, encasing us in near darkness. The only light comes from the emergency bulb in the corner. “You’re fucking games, Sawyer,” he snaps. “I said I was done. Don’t you remember?” He yanks free of my hold, but doesn’t back away.
My mouth tips up into a crooked smile. “If that’s so, why are you here? Now?” I wrap my hand around his black tie and tug him closer.
He stares down at me, his gorgeous features marred in disdain. That sexy lip ring teasing me. “To tell you how much I loathe you.”
I walk my fingers up his chest and wrap my hand around the back of his neck. “You think that bothers me? A good hate-fuck is the best kind.”
He links his hand around my wrist and pries me away, his fingers biting into my skin. Teeth gritted, he backs me against the wall and pins my hands to the brick, preventing me from touching him. So I arch my back, pressing my tits against his hard chest.
His breathing deepens. Those gray eyes narrow on me in vicious revulsion. And yet, it’s not me that disgusts him; he hates himself for what he wants to do to me.
“I’m leaving this room,” he says.
I lick my lips. “Stay.” That one word holds him bound, giving me enough time to push onto my toes and press my mouth to his.
There’s a moment of startled shock, where Roland doesn’t respond. His lips are hard and unforgiving, the feel of his lip ring cool against my bottom lip. Then, like the hardened wax of a candle being heated, the intensity building between us softens his lips; he melds against me, kissing me deeply, fiercely, sending a blazing current racing through my blood.
Since giving my kiss away, there’s no reason to hold back anymore. I’ve wondered what Roland tasted like, what it would feel like to kiss him, since that first moment in the locker room.
His kiss answers a question I never knew I needed to ask. How different it feels, how much more demanding and ravishing a man can be, as his mouth slants over mine in an act of dominance.
I have always been in control. Of my body and others. And this moment right here proves that I was right—a kiss is intimate. Personal. It’s giving a piece of yourself away. Roland is taking ownership of me with every osculation of our lips.
I turn my head away and gasp in a breath.
His forehead touches mine, breaths labored. “What the fuck, Sawyer? What was that?”
I swallow. I need to steal back my control. “Take your pants off,” I say.
He releases my wrists and steps back. He makes no motion to do as told, so I reach for the collar of my uniform shirt and unfasten the top button. I work my way down, unbuttoning my shirt to expose my breasts. I’m not wearing a bra, and as he takes me in, I watch his throat move in a forced swallow.
He drives a hand through his dark hair. “Christ,” he swears.
I inch up my skirt and dip my thumbs beneath my panties along my hips. As I start to ease them down, I only get halfway before he storms toward me and anchors his hands over mine.
He tears my panties down my legs the rest of the way and then his hand latches to my jaw, his thumb pressed hard to my chin. “I fucking hate you,” he says, voice like gravel.
“You fucking hate that you want me,” I challenge.
A dark gleam sparks in his eyes, and he bites his lip ring, before his mouth descends on mine. As his hands caress my tits, I work his belt buckle open and lower the zipper, already feeling how badly he desires me as his erection strains against his boxers.
I pull him out and grip his shaft, eliciting a sharp hiss from him against my mouth.
It’s like déjà vu—we’ve lived this moment before. After Lesley’s initiation, the Saints met in the boy’s locker room for an impromptu gang-bang, and I spotted Roland lurking around the corner. Peeping like a perv, watching Lesley get plowed forwards and backwards.
I knew he had a little crush on her. The poor boy got his heart broken that day. He got to see what a dirty girl Lesley really was. And when he took off, I followed after him. He cornered me in the girl’s locker room, seething with anger and resentment.
He couldn’t have her, so he took me—he took all of his unrequited bullshit frustration out on me. We fucked hard and dirty right there up against the shower stall. After that, he swore he’d never touch me again. Yet, every time I crook my finger at him, here he is, all testosterone and unbridled loathing, with a rock-hard cock pulsing to sink inside me with punishing fury.
Roland hate-fucks like a beast. My thighs are wet in anticipation.
His kiss becomes aggressive, and his teeth nip at my bottom lip, as his hand flattens along my lower belly on its descent downward. I spread my legs and link my arms around his shoulders. He groans against my mouth as he dips down and hooks his forearms under my knees.
He hoists me up against his body, and I hold on to him tighter. His cock slides teasingly along my wet pussy.
“Fuck…” he whispers, his eyes sealed together. His face contorts in a tortured expression. A sexy mix of pure pleasure and pain, and it’s hot as hell.
“Fuck me,” I demand. “Fuck me, Roland. Fuck me so hard it hurts.”
His forearms grip my thighs as he drives into me. Complete, unrestrained thrusts. He sinks into me all the way to the hilt, using my legs as leverage to drive as deeply as he can, and I latch on to his neck, riding him back just as hard.
My fingers dig into his hair as I search for purchase to hold on. His mouth surrounds my breast, teeth scraping over my nipple and arousing every nerve ending in my body. My back hits the wall, and he flattens one hand against the brick, gaining control as his thrusts speed. His cock hits that deep, achy spot over and over…driving me mad.
He drops my feet to the floor and spins me around, pressing my chest to the rough wall. The friction sends a deep and needy pang to my core where I’m missing the feel of him. He kicks my feet apart and flips up my skirt, then presses a hand to my pelvis, kicking out my ass, before he slams inside me from behind.
He grips my hair, giving it a firm tug. “How bad do you want it to hurt, you filthy slut?”
Oh, no one does dirty talk like Roland. I imagine fucking him is as close to what it’d be like to fuck Gage—and I savor every dirty word. “I want it to hurt so bad,” I say. “Fuck my ass.”
“Hell…” He pulls out of me and spreads my ass cheeks. I feel his dick slide along the puckered hole, getting it wet, before he pushes in, stealing my breath as he fills me.
“You like how that feels?” he says, his words breathy with his own desperate want. “Back that ass up on my cock. Tell me how much you want it.”
I rock my hips, loving that I can feel his muscles shaking with restrained need through his whole body. “Don’t hold back. I need your cock,” I say. “Touch me.”
He buries his face against my neck as he reaches around to stroke my clit.
“Oh, my god…” My body is lit o
n fire. The pain aches in the best way as pleasure arcs up my back, my core clenching with overstimulation.
“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Roland rasps. He groans in my hair, his warm breath dancing along my skin.
“Say you want me,” I get out. “Say how badly you always want me.”
“Jesus.” He thrusts hard and deep, his hand tugging harsher at my hair. “I fucking want you. Is that what you want to hear, you dirty bitch?”
“Yes—”
“Ah…fuck…” He buries himself all the way inside me as his fingers work my clit, and the pressure builds. “Goddammit, I want you so badly, Sawyer.”
I moan too loudly, and he removes his hand from my hair and clamps it over my mouth. I bite down on his hand as I come.
“Fucking hell…” Roland pumps inside me once more, then quickly pulls out. He slides his cock along my pussy lips as I orgasm, and I tighten my thighs against his dick. I feel his cock go rock-hard, then start to pulse, as he groans his release.
“Shit…” He works my clit harder as he thrusts between my thighs. “Rain on my cock… Ah…fucking hell.”
And I do… Oh, my god, I soak his cock as I spiral down from the climax, my whole body shaking with satisfying exertion.
He trembles as he removes himself, finally releasing me. I pant against the wall for a moment, just feeling his leaden breaths in my hair. Then he’s gone completely.
After I’m composed, I redress myself, and am buttoning my shirt as I turn to face him. His back is against the wall. He’s slouched there, his cock still erect and peeking through his boxers.
“That good, huh?” I say, sauntering toward him. “When your dick won’t go down.”
His eyes look silver in the dim lighting as I approach, and he’s just watching me, a curious expression on his face. I step close to him and tuck his dick into his pants, then zip him closed. “Nothing to say now?”
I slide my hands beneath his shirt, feeling the taut definition of his muscles, wishing I could see the sexy tattoos I know are hidden under his clothes.
