Hidden (The Scions Book 1)

by Gemma Weir

  When they’re all out of earshot I look to my tormentor and wait.

  “Get in,” he demands. I close my eyes for a brief moment and then climb into my car, enjoying the small moment of reprieve until he climbs in next to me. The interior of my car feels stifling, but I refuse to give him any more than I absolutely have to, so I stay resolutely silent, navigating the roads back to Auntie Brandi’s.

  Pulling up at the curb outside his house, I leave the engine running and wait, staring at the road ahead and refusing to look at him.

  “Let’s go.”

  “What?” I cry.

  “We’re going in, come on.”

  “No. I’m not going in there with you. Auntie Brandi will be home.”

  “So?”

  “So,” I screech. “So she’ll think we’re dating or whatever.

  “We are dating.”

  “No, we’re not. You’re blackmailing me into kissing you because you’re an asshole who seems to take pleasure in torturing me.”

  He chuckles and I want to lean over and punch him in the face. I might be a girly girl, but my dad is a badass and I have three brothers. I know how to throw a punch.

  “Princess, do you really want to start this bullshit with me? Hasn’t the last few days taught you anything about who’s in control here?”

  At the reminder of the havoc he’s caused in my life in just a matter of days, I stiffen.

  “Exactly, so get your ass out of the car.”

  With a terse nod, I kill the engine and reluctantly climb from the car. I follow Valentine up the front path and in through the unlocked front door. The moment we hit the entrance hall he stops and looks over his shoulder at me, then stretches out his hand for me to take.

  I glance at it as if it’s a venomous snake that might bite me at any moment, but eventually I place my hand in his and allow him to pull me into the kitchen at the back of the house.

  “Hey, Brandi. Hey, guys,” he says as soon as we enter the room.

  Auntie Brandi spins from her position at the counter chopping veggies with a bright smile on her face. The moment she spots me, her grin broadens and then I watch as almost in slow motion her gaze dips to mine and Valentine’s entwined fingers.

  “Hey, kids, how was school? Nova sweetie, are you stopping for dinner?”

  I open my mouth to decline her invitation, not wanting to be here any longer than I have to, but Valentine speaks first.

  “School was great and she’d love to stay for dinner, wouldn’t you?” he says, giving me a pointed look and squeezing my fingers firmly.

  “Thanks, Auntie Brandi. That would be great; if you’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not, honey. Just let your mom know.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  She smiles widely again, her entire body expressing how pleased she is about me being here, or being here with Valentine. I’m not sure which. “Why don’t you guys grab a snack? Dinner’s not going to be for at least an hour.”

  “Thanks, Brandi,” Valentine says, pulling me to the refrigerator and grabbing some fruit, carrot sticks, and a jar of peanut butter. “We’re gonna head upstairs.”

  “Okay, door open please.”

  He nods, but doesn’t respond, and then he’s pulling me from the room as I wave at Sabrina and Callum who are at the dining table doing homework, books spread out in front of them.

  I allow him to pull me behind him as we climb the stairs all the way to the top of the house and his bedroom. By the time we reach the doorway, my heart is beating erratically and my steps have slowed to the point that he’s physically towing me behind him.

  Fear, sickly and dark, plows through me and my inbuilt fight or flight instinct is screaming at me to run, to get away from this boy who seems to take pleasure in my pain. But knowing that doing as he says is protecting the others around me, keeps me moving forward, all be it at a snail’s pace.

  Stepping through the door, I’m into the lion’s den before I can allow myself to refuse. Valentine drops my hand and then pushes the door halfway closed, obscuring us from view but not truly breaking Auntie Brandi’s rules.

  “Sit,” he demands, pointing to the bed, but I ignore him and instead lower myself into the chair at the desk in the corner.

  He laughs and the sound makes goose bumps pebble on my arms. “Suit yourself, Princess, that chair is uncomfortable as fuck.”

  Dropping down onto his bed he lounges lazily, his hands behind his head, his ankles crossed. For all appearances he looks as though he doesn’t have a worry in the world. I scowl, considering all he’s done to me in the last few days and yet here he is looking relaxed and happy.

  “Why am I here?”

  “Because I want you to be,” he replies succinctly.

  “But why? What’s the point of having our family think we’re dating?”

  “Come here,” he says, completely ignoring my question about his motives.

  “I’d rather stay here.”

  “I didn’t ask what you’d rather do. I told you to come here,” he says, his words most definitely an order, despite how lazily he says them.

  I pause, trying to figure out how to get out of this. I don’t want to get onto that bed with him. One scream would have Auntie Brandi running up the stairs, but there’s more to be frightened of right now than him raping me.

  I’m not as scared as I should be. I’m frightened, but not enough to go tell my mom or even Auntie Brandi what he’s doing. Instead, I find myself standing up and moving toward him, climbing onto the bed and sitting at his side, my feet still on the floor.

  “Now was that so hard?”

  “Yes,” I snap back, unable to hide my snark, even knowing I probably shouldn’t provoke him right now. He laughs again and for once it’s not the low wicked sound I’ve grown used to hearing from him. This laugh sounds genuine, like he’s actually amused by me. Something cracks in my chest and I allow my body to relax, my hands falling to my sides.

  “What’s the end game here, Valentine? Why don’t you just tell me what you want? You must have something in mind, else what’s the point of all this?”

  He assesses me carefully, all earlier traces of amusement evaporating. “Does there have to be a purpose? Why can’t it just be because I can?”

  My mouth falls open as shock courses through me. “You’re torturing me, because you can? That’s it? I’m just an amusement? Something to pass the time?”

  “You’re beautiful, Princess; but you’re hard, untouchable. I want to break you. I want to see what’s hidden behind that callous exterior, or if you’re hard all the way through.”

  “But why do you care at all? Explain it to me.”

  His face morphs into a sneer and I know that somehow, I’ve mis-stepped.

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you,” he hisses. “Come here and kiss me. I think I prefer you when you can’t talk.”

  “Valentine.”

  “Shut up. Anything you have to say will only piss me off. Get your ass up here and kiss me. Now.”

  Resigned, I glance to the door, then back to him. “Don’t even think about it, Princess,” he warns.

  Turning to the side, I shuffle up the bed until I’m sitting level with his chest, then I lean forward and press my lips to his. For a moment he lets me control the kiss as I slide my tongue against his mouth waiting for him to open and grant me entrance.

  The moment my tongue touches his, he takes over, gripping my hips and dragging me on top of him so his hands can roam my waist, my side, my ass. I gasp the moment his hands slide beneath the hem of my shorts and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss, plunging one hand into my hair and stopping me from moving away.

  I know I shouldn’t, but I lose myself in him. Heat infuses me, starting in my chest and sinking lower and lower until arousal pools in my stomach. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I am. I shouldn’t be turned on, but I am.

  Valentine is my bully, but the fine line between hate and something
darker, more delicious and imminently more erotic suddenly falls away and even though I don’t want to be blackmailed into kissing someone, right now, in this moment, I want to kiss him.

  A groan escapes my lips and Valentine responds by pulling me closer. His hand slides upward until his palm is cupping my ass, his finger teasing at the edges of my panties. The move shocks me from the moment and I force my hands between us and push at his chest until he releases me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demand.

  A smug grin tips the corner of his mouth and a surge of anger dissolves the lust that had been consuming me only a second before.

  “Tell me you’re not wet.”

  “Don’t be disgusting. You’re forcing me to kiss you, nothing more.”

  “Do you need me to force you? Is that how this works, Princess? I might have given you an incentive to kiss me, but we both know you’re enjoying it. Dip your fingers into your panties and show me your pussy is dry and I’ll leave you alone completely.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Show me you’re not wet and eager for me to get my fingers inside of you and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you and all of your friends and family alone. But I’d lay money on the fact that your pussy is slick and wet. You might fucking hate this, but you want it just as much.”

  “I don’t have to prove anything to you,” I say, my voice shaking.

  He laughs, long and low and full of promise. “So, so fucking wet. Come here and I’ll make it all better. You can hate me the whole way through, right up until I make you come. Once you’ve gasped my name and come all over my fingers, then you have to thank me.”

  “No,” I say, but the word is a needy gasp.

  “I won’t force you; not today anyway. But I can see you want it. I see how your chest is rising, how you’re squeezing your thighs together. Don’t fight it, Princess.”

  I shake my head, trying to deny my need, but it’s there, pooled in my stomach and between my legs, urging me to go to him, to let him make me come, let him relieve this pressure.

  His fingertip scrapes across the sensitive skin at the back of my thigh and I bite back the whimper that threatens to escape my lips.

  “Why are you fighting it? There’s only you and me here. No one else but us would ever know.”

  I shake my head again, trying to convince myself as much as him that I don’t want him to touch me.

  “Do you want me to make you say yes?” He asks, his voice a melodic taunt.

  “N- no.”

  “Do you need me to threaten you? Would that make it easier for you to admit what you want, what you need?”

  His hand slides up my leg, until his fingers are teasing at the bottom of my shorts once again. “Come here.”

  Without thought of the consequences, I lean into him and when he moves his lips toward mine, I meet him halfway, not resisting at all when our mouths crash together.

  I feel his fingers spread wide, rubbing back and forth across my skin and I arch my back, unconsciously pushing my ass even further into his hand. His soft chuckle vibrates against my lips and I instinctively tense.

  “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he cautions.

  But I don’t want him to stop. I want him to touch me, to make me come, but I can’t ask him for it. I can’t give him that.

  Slowly his fingers slide around to the side of my panties; a single digit breaches the fabric and pushes beneath. His lips press against mine again and as his tongue pushes into my mouth his finger dips into my sex, gliding easily against the slick flesh.

  “Fuck, so wet,” he groans.

  I don’t say a word, needing to pretend that he’s the only one in this, that the only reason I’m allowing him to touch me this way is because he’s threatening me. But we both know that his fingers dipping into my sex has nothing to do with threats and everything to do with how turned on his kisses, his words, have made me.

  When he pushes a finger into my sex I cry out, and his kiss swallows the sound. Slowly, he pumps his finger in and out of me, making pleasure pool in my stomach. A second finger joins the first and I feel stretched and full, then his thumb rubs at my clit and I know I’m almost there.

  “Perfect,” he murmurs against my lips, so quietly I can barely hear it.

  Gasping from the sensation of my release building, I pry myself away from his lips and bury my face against his neck. The scent of his woody aftershave mixed with a hint of sexy boy pushes me over the edge and I bite down on his skin to mask the sounds of my orgasm as it crashes through me.

  My breathing turns ragged and I convulse against him, my limbs shaking as he works me down, his fingers still slowly moving inside of me. Shame fills me the moment the sensation of pleasure fades and I pry myself from his arms and stumble away from the bed.

  Covering my face with my hands, I try to hide from what we just did, what I allowed him to do, but all I can see and feel and smell is him. I can feel him watching me, even with my eyes tightly shut. I can almost see the smug look on his face, and I flinch unconsciously at the thought of his victory over me.

  “Open your eyes.”

  I shake my head, embarrassed by my own stupidity.

  “Princess, open your eyes,” he demands this time and without conscious thought my lids snap open and I lock gazes with his.

  “You came all over my fingers; so wet and tight, so eager.”

  “Oh God,” I groan, feeling my cheeks get even hotter.

  “We had a deal. Have you got something to say to me?”

  I shake my head.

  “If you back out of this, I’ll back out of mine, and we both know what will happen if I decide to play with your friends and family instead of you.”

  My heart is beating so hard I feel like it’s coming out of my chest. “If I say it, then I want to go home.”

  He considers my words for a minute, his eyes running along the length of my body and causing a fresh spike of arousal to jump to life between my legs. “Okay, but I want you to come here and say it while your wet pussy is sitting on my hard cock.”

  My eyes drop to his crotch and the large bulge pushing against the zipper of his jeans. How had I not noticed that before? I’d been so consumed with the way he was making me feel that I’d sort of forgotten about him. But he’s not my boyfriend; he’s my bully, my tormenter. I shouldn’t care if his dick is hard, or if I’m leaving him unsatisfied.

  I don’t care.

  “Princess,” he snaps, pulling my attention back to him.

  Nodding reluctantly, I slowly cross the room again and climb onto his bed, straddling his waist, my sex directly on top of his rock-hard dick. He rolls his hips and his cock brushes against my swollen clit, forcing me to inhale sharply to swallow my moan.

  “I think I like you up there; maybe I should give you a choice.”

  “What choice?” I ask, my voice small and breathy.

  “You can either thank me for the orgasm, or you can ride my dick until I come.”

  His crass words force an involuntary gasp from my throat. “I’m not going to fuck you,” I hiss.

  He scoffs. “Your choice. You know what you have to do.”

  Closing my eyes for a second, I try to mentally prepare myself to say the words, to humiliate myself. With my resolve hardened, I look him straight in the face and whisper. “Thank you.”

  His smile is cruel and hard. “Thank you for what?”

  “I’m not saying it again,” I snarl.

  “Thank me properly.”

  Pursing my lips, I narrow my eyes at him. “Th-”

  “I want to hear it all, Princess, and I’ll just keep making you say it until I’m satisfied. So if you only want to say it once, I suggest you do a thorough job.”

  The amusement in his voice is clear, and hate, strong and hot rushes through me. “Thank you, Valentine, for making me come with your fingers.” I force the words out through clenched teeth and the moment the last word is said, I roll off his lap and I’m halfw
ay to his door.

  “See you tomorrow, Princess,” he says, his hand already caressing his dick.

  For a moment I stand frozen, my eyes fixed on the way his palm is slowly gliding up and down the bulge in his pants.

  “You can watch if you want, but I’d want something in return.”

  “What?” the question is out before I can stop myself.

  “Come back here and I’ll tell you.”

  Forcing my head to shake, I take a step back, unable to tear my eyes away, but knowing that I need to.

  “Run away, little princess. I’ll pick you up for school in the morning.” He says, sliding his hand beneath the waistband of his pants.

  Spinning around, I rush from his room, not stopping until I’m halfway down the stairs, my breath coming in pants and my hands shaking. I force myself to walk at a more reasonable speed down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen. “Sorry, Auntie Brandi, I forgot I have to do something. I can’t stay for dinner.”

  She glances over her shoulder at me and smiles regretfully. “Oh that’s too bad. I’m really happy to see you and Valentine are getting along so well,” she says winking at me. “You guys make such a cute couple.”

  I force myself to smile quickly, before I spin around and head for the door. “See you later,” I call as I let myself out and run to my car as quickly as I can.

  My cell beeps signaling a message when I’m almost halfway home, but I ignore it. My nerves are already on edge from my encounter with Valentine and I’m in no state to risk messing with my cell when I’m supposed to be concentrating.

  Pulling into the driveway, I turn off my engine and rest my forehead on the steering wheel, dragging in long lungfuls of air in an attempt to calm myself. What the hell did I just do? I let him touch me. I let him make me come and I enjoyed it.

  He’s mean and manipulative, but when I’m close to him, the swirling myriad of thoughts that plague me go quiet. Something about him silences my mind. Maybe it’s because I’m so consumed with hate for him, I don’t know. But the quiet, the silence, is so wonderful, that maybe, just maybe, I don’t mind his torture. Perhaps I can put up with his blackmail and threats if he keeps the panic and anxiety at bay.