Dangerous Girls: A Dark High School Romance (Broken Saints Society Book 2)

by Leia Thorne

  My fingers splay into his hair, gripping and tugging, enjoying the feel of him losing control on top of me. He yanks his button-up open, and the sight of that sexy V muscle has me digging my nails into his shoulders.

  Rush shoves my skirt up my thighs and his fingers find my pussy. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “You’re ready.” He swirls the wetness around, then touches the tip of his cock to my lips. There’s no warning as he pushes inside me. Just the unadulterated look of need that overtakes his features as he thrusts all the way in.

  I arch my back off the table, my breath held, as he fills me.

  Everything about him is different than Gage. The way he circles his forearms around my legs and grips tightly to my inner thighs as he backs out and drives inside me again. The way he talks dirty under his breath; Rush is absolutely filthy in the throes of passion. The way this moment is solely feeding a hunger.

  I reach between my legs and touch my clit, the panging need to climax pulling at my lower back.

  “Shit. You are so smoking hot,” Rush says, breathless as he speeds his momentum. His hips slam against my ass. “Go to homecoming with me.”

  My hand stills. A cold tingle washes through my body. “What?” I manage to get out between his thrusts.

  He releases my thighs and practically falls on top of me, as he gets closer to coming. His mouth crashes against mine, and I accept the kiss, our tongues mingling as he rolls his hips harder, faster. Rush is more than experienced; he knows right where to hit. I gasp against his mouth as his pelvis rubs my clit in expert timing to each thrust, the friction sweet, sweet torture.

  When he breaks away, I pull in a lungful of air. “I’m going with Gage,” I say.

  He only misses a beat—a quick second where our eyes lock—before he slams inside me with a hard groan. Then he pulls out completely and has me flipped over the table.

  “Rush, slow down,” I say.

  But his cock is already entering me. “Go with me instead,” he says, reaching around to my front and finding my clit with ease.

  I open my mouth, but all that is vocalized is a moan, every nerve ending combusting at the feel of his fingers and cock getting me closer.

  “What was that?” he asks, a smugness in his tone. “I think I heard a yes.” He’s slamming his hips against me in hard, demanding thrusts, stealing my voice and my senses.

  I’ve lost that leverage of control. Or, maybe I never really had it. Sawyer wouldn’t be in this position—where did I…?

  “Oh, my god…” I reach above my head and latch on to the edge of the table. Heat builds in my core, the pressure causing my muscles to clench, the ache in my back so delicious I squeeze my eyes closed.

  “Fuck yeah,” Rush curses. “That pussy is so fucking tight. That’s it, come hard on my cock, baby.” He presses the heel of his hand hard against my clit as he pumps his cock faster, and every nerve in my body snaps.

  His groan barrels through me, the sound of it so erotic it frees my orgasm. My back arches. He holds down my lower back as he thrusts long and hard, keeping me from forcing him out as every muscle clenches until I break.

  “Dammit to…ah hell—” He grabs my ass cheek and pumps inside me one last time before he pulls out. His breathing is erratic, mixing with his clipped groans, as he spills on the stage floor.

  As the wave recedes out, taking the tingling sensation with it, I relax along the table. The heat still clings to my skin as Rush rests his forehead against my back, his breaths tickling my skin.

  He moves away and flips my skirt down. The nicest gesture from Rush I’ve seen so far. I slide off the table and trek to where I discarded my panties.

  “I’m serious,” he says, as he hikes up his boxers. “We should go to homecoming together.”

  I wipe my brow and comb my fingers through my tangled hair. Now, more than ever, I need that control. I know what he’s doing. I’ve seen the power struggle at the treetop between him and Gage. I’ve noticed the sly looks they send each other. I’m already being tugged this way and that way between Gage and Sawyer, and now, with the letter and Roland…

  “And I said I’m going with Gage.” I send Rush a stern glare, making it absolutely clear this conversation is over. As the new girl, and new member to the society, I’m getting tired of being used as a ploy for their games.

  Rush shrugs. “Whatever then. Just an idea.” He gets dressed quickly and heads toward the curtain, pausing to add, “That was fun, by the way. I’ll make sure Gage knows how lucky he is to get you all to himself.”

  I stare after him, silently cursing myself. I’m not built for these elite mind games. But dammit, if I want to survive senior year at Brighton, I better school myself quick. I need to protect myself. Lesley’s letter comes back to me in biting clarity.

  If I’m not cautious, I could end up like her, wanting out. Or worse.

  By the time I make it to my locker, I’m already too late to go to class. I’m falling behind so much lately. How do the Saints excel academically while getting away with…?

  I almost think murder.

  I stop short in the hallway, a chill racing down my spine. Roland is walking toward me from the other direction. I’m tempted to avoid him. Just turn around and wait out the rest of the day in the bathroom, but a rare flush of anger washes over me.

  I march toward him. “Why did you give me that letter?” I demand.

  He glances around the hallway. “Not here.”

  I cross my arms. “Where then? When? Obviously, you wanted to send me some message right away.”

  He shoulders his backpack and sighs heavily. “I said, not here. Give me your phone.”

  I gape at him. “This is so stupid,” I mutter, but dig out my phone and hand it to him. He punches in his number and saves the contact before holding the device out to me.

  I accept it and stare at the screen. He goes to walk around me, and I can’t help it. I have to have some answers now. “Why didn’t you give her letter to the police?” I ask. He stops walking, but doesn’t turn to face me. “If you truly believe that Gage and Sawyer could do something like this… God. It’s crazy. I can’t even say the words.”

  “I don’t know what I believe,” he says, his voice low. “But I know something is wrong. Things are too neat.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “And I want to finally know the truth.”

  I push my hair behind my ear as I watch him walk to the staircase and ascend the steps. The gothic architecture around me feels too cold, too open, exposed. The eerie awareness of being watched touches the back of my neck, and I whip around at the sound of a locker door closing.

  Emry looks my way as he spins the lock. He doesn’t say anything as he turns and heads down the opposite end of the hallway.

  Did he hear us? I shake my suspicion off. Of all the Saints, I fear Emry the least. He’s in love with Palmer and devotes himself to her fully. No, I’m not worried about Emry. I’m worried about the loner boy with a grudge. I’m worried that—despite my promise to coast through this year and keep my head down—I might believe him. At least, on some level.

  As I walk the hallway, waiting for the period to release, Lesley’s eyes follow me. The giant banner hanging above makes her larger than life, and suddenly, the mystery of who she was and what happened to her is too consuming.

  Chapter 11

  Gage

  Seated at the penthouse island, I pour a shot of bourbon and take a swallow. I’m not usually a drinker. Honestly, I think anything that dulls the senses is lame. But something Remi said earlier this week at the academy has wedged its way under my skin. Burrowing there like a splinter, and it’s starting to fester.

  She thinks I’m her protector.

  Of course, that was before I stuck my fist in Roland’s face, but still. Technically, that was for her. I’m not a fighter of honor. In all honesty, I’ve been wanting to punch Roland for a good long while.

  But the truth is, Remi feels safe with me. Sheltered.

  Which is a good thing, in
theory. It means she trusts me—and that trust will be crucial when it comes time for her to take her place alongside Mrs. de Pont.

  The chairwoman believes I’m paying a debt to her. But I’m grooming Remi to trust me not her. When the time comes, there will be no chance. This is all strategy. I’m taking my time with Remi where I rushed Lesley, where I failed.

  I won’t fail again.

  Like this past weekend, where I temporarily lost control during the initiation. I can’t lose control again. Even if Sawyer pushes every fucking button at once…I have to keep on mission. I can’t let her or emo assholes make me lose focus.

  And I won’t. After homecoming, Remi will be putty in my hands. Then all I have to do is get her to the masquerade ball with a willing nature and hunger for the lifestyle.

  Legacy status restored.

  I throw back the rest of the whiskey.

  A text notification pings my phone.

  Chairwoman: Have you secured the masquerade?

  Like the bitch is reading my mind. I decide I’m tired of answering to the Queen Bitch for one week and swipe her message away and pocket my phone.

  “You’re thinking about her sweet pussy, aren’t you?” Rush says, breaking into my thoughts. “Because I know I am.”

  He’s reclined on the sofa, hand down the front of his pants, flipping through channels on the widescreen. If he’s not careful, he’ll become one of those washed-up jocks with a bad knee, clinging to his glory days.

  I’m assuming he’s referring to Remi. Since the initiation, it’s all he can talk about—like he’s fucking whipped.

  “The girls are coming to the treetop, right?” Rush asks, and I push away from the island.

  “She doesn’t belong to you,” I tell him.

  His head snaps my way. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Remi,” I say, crossing my arms. “You’ve been pissing around her all week, marking your territory like a dog.” Like at lunch, when he bought her a tray of food, then sat beside her in the courtyard, telling jokes to make her laugh. It was painful to watch. “She’s a society member. Not your personal pincushion.”

  Rush glares at me. “Scared of the competition, Astor?”

  I shake my head. “I’m scared of what the rejection will do to you, honestly. When’s the last time you used?” At this, I’m referring to the drugs he doesn’t share with the Saints. The secret stash of pills he keeps hidden.

  “Not since coach busted my ass a few weeks back,” he says. “All right? So you can stop worrying about me. I got this.”

  If he goes off the rails, I really will have to bar him from the society. He’ll lose his privileges, such as that nice-ass Skyline he drives, and the acceptance letter from Harvard waiting for him in the wings. And he’ll lose his protection.

  The only reason he’s still on the team and hasn’t been expelled from Brighton is me. My money runs that academy, and I pay Coach Sanders a monthly bribe to give Rush a hard time, but to keep him on the team.

  That’s going to come to an end soon.

  “You need to put football in the past and aim for crew,” I say. “Harvard will be more impressed with rowing.”

  This gets his full attention. “You know something I don’t about my application?”

  Of course I do. “It’s fucking logical, Rush. Just do it.”

  He says nothing as he looks at the screen. But the kernel of doubt has been planted. With the right coaxing, doubt is a powerful tool.

  Besides my requirement for the society, the whole point of building my own personal mini society is to have connections lined up for later. When I need them. But if Rush spirals down this hole any further, he’ll become a liability. Useless to me.

  The chairwoman of my father’s society won’t accept lame members, and neither will I.

  I brace my elbows on the wingback chair. “For now, just take it down a notch with Remi. She’s still new. You’re coming on too strong.”

  “Yeah. Whatever,” he mumbles. “You didn’t see her in the auditorium. That girl has some freak buried in her.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “When was this?”

  He shrugs. “Today. Had her hot little ass bent over the table…” He swats the air, making a smacking motion.

  Red blankets my vision, and I storm toward him. I have him by the collar and off the sofa before a word leaves my mouth.

  “What the fuck—?” He grips my forearms, trying to free himself. “Don’t make me…”

  “What?” I seethe.

  He drops his hands, holds them up defenselessly. “You’re breaking your own rules, bro.”

  Teeth gritted, I uncurl my fingers, releasing him. He adjusts his shirt and lifts his chin.

  We stare at each other for a long beat, and my brain breaks down the week. Remi and me in the bathroom. The altercation with Roland. Her reclusiveness. Rush and her today.

  Remi was becoming withdrawn before today so, as tempted as I am to blame his greedy nature, I probably have myself to thank for this setback. I need an update from Sawyer on the Roland front; discover if he’s been working an angle with her behind the scenes.

  “There’re my rules to break,” I finally say to Rush. I may have just given away how important Remi is to me, to my agenda—but Rush knows his place.

  He shakes his head. “Fine, man. She’s all yours.” He steps back, then: “You weren’t this way about…” He trails off, leaving her name unsaid.

  My back tenses as my hands fist at my sides, daring him to actually utter the word. “Say it.”

  He waves a hand, brushing it off. “Forget it. I’m overstepping.”

  “I wasn’t this way about Lesley?” As the words leave my mouth, Rush finally locks eyes with me. A glimmer of fear sparks. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing that I’m more protective over Remi. We all had a hand in what happened to Les. Or do you forget your part?”

  “I won’t ever forget,” he says. Then, with a resigned sigh, he plunks down on the sofa. “Sorry, Gage. Seriously. I’m just stressed out.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Coach has been riding me really hard lately. I just need to release some steam.”

  After a moment of thought, I nod slowly. “I’ll handle that. But you pull your shit together and start crew next week.” I walk toward him and look down. “Tonight’s homecoming game is your last.”

  The door of the penthouse opens. The girls enter, followed by Emry. Sawyer drops her purse on the table and glances between me and Rush. “Looks intense. Did we interrupt?”

  The silence grows, forcing the subject, and Rush is the first to break it. “We’re damn bored, that’s what’s up. Where the hell have you been?”

  Sawyer fists a hand to her waist. “Homecoming accessory shopping. Which means you’ll wait, and wait happily.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rush says. “But can I please get a reward for good behavior then?”

  Sawyer crosses the living room and seats herself in the wingback chair. “From what I heard, you already got a treat today.” She sends me a smirk.

  That’s right. Get your dig in, Sawyer.

  I smile mockingly at her, then glance Remi’s way. Her face is flush. It’s cute. She’s lingering on the outskirts of the room, as if she’s waiting for permission to enter fully.

  Well, she doesn’t take directives from Sawyer or Rush or anyone else; she takes them from me.

  I stride up to her and kiss her on the forehead tenderly. “Did you find a dress?”

  She nods. “Already got that part handled.”

  “Did you use the credit card I gave you?”

  She rolls her eyes, but it’s done so sweetly. She can be endearing when she really wants to be. “I did. Thank you.”

  “Good.” I grasp her hand and lead her into the room. Taking a seat on the loveseat, I pull her onto my lap. I slip my hands on top of her thighs, gauging her response. She eases back against my chest, and I decide I’m worrying too much.

  Maybe this has just been an of
f week for her. As planned, she’s falling behind on schoolwork and, despite my knee-jerk reaction to Rush, his greedy appetite is helping that cause.

  Remi has changed out of her uniform and now wears capri-type slacks and a sheer blouse. One of Sawyer’s inspirations, no doubt. I slip my hand along her hip, peeking up at Sawyer as I do so, wondering if she feels at all spurned to be replaced. By her blatant comment earlier, I have to assume my focus on Remi is getting to her.

  Ignoring us outright, Sawyer looks at Emry. “It has been pretty boring lately,” she says. “When’s the last time we let Palmer play with the ropes?”

  Camped out on the floor, Emry shrugs and Palmer claps excitedly. “It’s been too long,” she says. “Can I?”

  Sawyer straightens her shirt, peering up at me with one eyebrow arched in question.

  I release a breath. “Sure, Palm. Have at it.”

  This truce between Sawyer and I is becoming even more fragile. The whole group feels it, just waiting for one of us to snap after what transpired during the initiation. If this is going to work—if I’m really going to convince Remi that she belongs to this lifestyle—then things need to change fast. Trust and balance need to be restored.

  Fun needs to happen.

  Palmer bounds up to go to the play room to collect her ropes. Giving her free rein might not be such a great idea…but it also could be interesting. With a new member, I’m curious to see how the undercurrents are shifting.

  “Turn around,” I say to Remi, helping her lift up so she can straddle me. I want her in the mood, relaxed. “Come here.”

  She places her hands on my shoulders as I touch her chin, bringing her down to me so I can taste her lips. Working open one of the blouse buttons, I slip my fingers inside her shirt and caress the swell of her breast. Then I clamp my hands to her thighs and bear down hard, grinding my hard cock against her.

  She moans into my mouth. Whatever else is in store for her, I know one thing: this girl was born ready to fuck.