Not just because he wanted to bully and hurt me. I wasn’t even mad about his punishments; I’d expected no less after everything I’d done, but there was always going to be a deep wound in me over what Saint had done in the past. Despite my revenge, it was impossible to let go of that. But then…he hadn’t burned my letters, even if he was keeping them from me. Maybe this was his way of regaining control over the situation. He’d revealed a vulnerability to me by showing me they were still intact. He’d proven he wasn’t heartless. That a living, functioning organ really did beat in his chest. And it felt things. Things that made him spend time forging my letters, pre-empting the whole burning thing instead of just callously doing it. And if I really, really thought about it, I had to acknowledge that the punishments he gave me these days didn’t hurt like they used to.
Gah, I can’t start reasoning with a madman.
Maybe some of this anger wasn’t just for him, maybe it was aimed at myself. Because as much as I didn’t want to admit it, at some point, I’d started to forgive them. If they weren’t monsters right down to their rotten cores, then that made them human. It made them redeemable. And I was in a war with the part of me that was acknowledging that. Letting them in, piece by beautiful, terrible piece. They were crawling deeper under my skin. So I needed to hold onto my hate for Saint more than anything, because he was the ringleader. If I started to understand him, sympathise with him, then I would be on a slippery slope. And I did not want to even think about what was waiting for me at the bottom of that slope.
I dried my hair then exited the bathroom in a towel, finding a dark red sweater dress waiting on the bed with some delicate black lingerie, stockings and suspenders. I put it all on and it clung to my figure like a dream. How did he find stuff that fit me so well? I was never uncomfortable, nothing was ever too tight or too big. It was just right. All of it. Did he measure me in my freaking sleep one time??
I headed downstairs to the sound of explosions as Blake played his favourite zombie game and I glanced at Kyan on the couch who was fast asleep with his arm slung over his eyes. He never seemed that interested in gaming lately and more and more people around campus were meeting the destruction of his fists. His knuckles were busted up nearly every day and I’d taken to tending to them after the burn on his chest had healed. I didn’t want to acknowledge the little voice in the back of my head saying that was because I liked looking after him and I didn’t want it to stop. Frankly, a small burn on his chest had not needed the rapt attention I’d given it for days on end. But he hadn’t complained. He kept showing up after that with bloody knuckles, sitting in the same chair at the same time daily as he waited for me to fix him up. It had become our routine, but that time had come and gone this morning because of the drama and I was kind of miffed to have missed out on it. The few minutes where I bathed his wounds was the only time that we weren’t at each other’s throats. And the only time we were in each other’s personal space flesh against flesh.
After he’d shown me his beautiful sketches and told me he was mine, he’d immediately started acting like none of it had happened again. He kept his distance, returned to sleeping on the couch when it was my turn in his bed and pretended like there was no screaming, devouring, soul-eating tension between us every time we were in the same room together. I was too stubborn to broach the subject and he clearly had no intention of doing so either. But I couldn’t forget those pictures he’d drawn of me, the proof that beneath all his bullshit he held the same obsession with me that I had grown for him. And thinking about it never coming to anything just made me sad.
Saint was waiting for me at the dining table with two large black buckets sitting on top of it. His hands were clasped behind his back and his gaze was sub-zero.
“This bucket contains five bags of penne pasta and five bags of fusilli. You will separate all the straight penne from the curly fusilli. Begin.” He smirked as he walked away to join the others and I looked into the bucket of pasta with a huff. I glanced over at the Night Keepers then grabbed the two buckets, heading over to sit down in front of the couch where Kyan was sleeping and placing them on the floor before me.
Saint glanced my way, his lips parting to speak but I got there first. “You didn’t say where I had to do it.”
He pursed his lips, but said nothing, lifting a book about Beethoven off the arm of the chair and starting to read.
I worked my way through the pasta and after a while, I separated each by touch alone as I watched Blake’s game.
“Zombie on the roof above you,” I called and his character looked up and blew its head off.
“Thanks, Tate.” Blake shot me a wink and I grinned.
We soon fell into a rhythm of me watching his back and I got lost in the story of the game. When I finally finished sorting the pasta, I grabbed a controller and joined in. I felt Saint observing me from time to time, but he didn’t intervene and I relaxed as I enjoyed the free time, working as a team with Blake to destroy zombies.
Kyan groaned in his sleep and started muttering, “You can’t tape a screwdriver to your dick and use it to stab people…that’s no way to treat your tools.”
I snorted a laugh and Blake and Saint joined in, a single moment of peace uniting us for a second before we returned to what we were doing.
Eventually, Saint placed his book on the coffee table and stood up. “Enough, come upstairs. It’s time for your final punishment.”
I sighed and Blake threw his head back with a groan. “Don’t take my teammate, asshole. She’s suffered enough.”
“She has suffered enough when I say she has suffered enough,” Saint said, his eyes glittering and making me curious and freaked out about what he had in mind.
He held out a hand to me and I took it, letting him pull me upright, but his fingers only tightened around mine as he towed me toward the stairs. My anger at him had admittedly ebbed away a little, but I wasn’t going to let him know that I was quietly hoping my final punishment might be of the spanking variety. Internally, I was already on my knees pulling my panties down, but that bitch needed to get off the floor and weld her legs shut.
We reached his room and I was annoyed to find it as tidy as everywhere else in The Temple. His open closet door showed me that the space inside had been cleared out of his ruined clothes and the wallpaper had been replaced along with a new mirror. Hell, he works fast. Or his people do. Did Rebecca do all of this?
I looked to the rafters, hunting down the TP I’d thrown up there, but it was all gone. Gah. Does he have the BFG working for him now for fuck’s sake?
Saint cupped my cheek and I stilled at his cool touch, his eyes boring into mine. “You have impressed me today. And I don’t say those words lightly. Are you going to continue to impress me?”
“If I do, will you give me a letter?” I asked, bitterness entering my tone.
He nodded. “Any letter of your choosing.”
“Okay,” I agreed with a heavy sigh. I really did want my letters back, even if I had to jump through hoops to get them. I would have done anything to save them before, so now I had the opportunity, I was going to have to grab onto it with both hands even if it was bullshit. “What do you want me to do?”
“You have two choices,” he mused, skimming his fingers down to my throat and brushing them over my racing pulse. “You can scrub every inch of my bathroom floor with a toothbrush or…you can allow me to put something in your ass.”
I spluttered a non-response somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “What?” I managed to force out.
He shrugged, but his eyes glinted with amusement and I stood there with my mouth hanging open as he waited for me to pick the bathroom.
“You’re not joking?” I confirmed, my heart thumping madly in my chest.
“I don’t joke about matters of the ass,” he deadpanned, but his eyes said he was finding this hilarious as he watched me squirm and blush. “The toothbrush then?”
He turned, heading to the bathroom and I didn�
�t know when or why or how I decided it, but I blurted, “No,” and he fell still, glancing over his shoulder at me with confusion marring his features.
“No?” he questioned and I lifted my chin, standing my ground.
“No,” I reaffirmed lightly, then tossed my hair over my shoulder as casual as shit. “I’ll take the ass thing.” What the fuck am I saying?? What even is the ass thing????
It was his turn to look shocked and I fought back a laugh as he walked back towards me, his eyes narrowed like he was waiting for me to reveal I was joking. But I wasn’t. At least, I didn’t think I was. My heart was pounding and my palms were beginning to sweat, but I didn’t like taking the easy option when it came to Saint. He was always waiting for me to show weakness and I refused to do it. And maybe, just a little, I wanted to see where this was going.
I thought he was about to talk me out of it, when he snatched my hand and dragged me into the closet at speed, shoving the door closed behind us. Saint didn’t often get excitable, but he was bordering on a restrained Labrador right now, which was cute as hell to watch. Who knew I just had to agree to ass play to make him smile? Not that the half tilt at the side of his mouth was much of a smile, but it was a big deal for him. And my second one of the day.
He released my hand and pulled open a drawer, grabbing a red velvet pouch out of it. I frowned as he turned to me, slipping his fingers into it and taking out a black silicon device that was about three inches long with an arrowed head. He placed the pouch into his pocket and I sensed there was something else in there, but he stepped forward, capturing all of my attention as he placed the object into his mouth and sucked.
My breaths came heavier as I watched, my heart beginning to jump erratically in my chest. I was undeniably turned on, plus like twenty percent nervous as he directed me to turn around and bend over, placing my hands on the mirror on the back wall.
I took a few steadying breaths as I obeyed, my eyes on him in the glass as he withdrew the plug from his mouth, his eyes swirling with a dark desire.
“Are you sure, Barbie doll?” he asked, his eyes on mine, making this whole thing so much more erotic.
I nodded, taking my lower lip between my teeth as he flipped up my skirt and pulled my panties down to hang around my thighs.
My heart hit a powerful beat as he parted my cheeks and slowly pushed the plug into my ass. I gasped, my spine straightening and he brushed my hair over my shoulder. “How’s that? Are you okay?”
“I…yeah,” I breathed and I felt him relax as his body pressed to mine.
“You can change your mind if you don’t like it,” he said softly and I frowned at the sweetness of his tone.
“I’m fine,” I said a little hoarsely.
He reached down and gently tugged my panties up, his arm closing around my waist as he guided me back against his chest. His fingers gripped my chin, angling my face directly toward the mirror as he spoke in my ear. “Now go downstairs and make me an espresso, good girl.”
“I’m not good,” I said breathily, adjusting to the strange, but not entirely unpleasant sensation of the plug inside me.
“That’s for me to decide,” he whispered, his teeth grazing my ear for a second and sending a shiver tumbling down my spine. My hate for him was dwindling, giving way to something fiercer and darker that I didn’t want to put a name to. But it was sweeter than hate. “You will have a letter so long as you continue to follow my commands. Can you do that?”
I nodded slowly and he stepped away from me, standing back so I could turn and exit the closet. I wet my lips as I started to get too hot, the feel of that device down there making me surprisingly turned on. As I moved, the plug rubbed me in a way that made my thighs want to clamp together. It was good.
I walked downstairs, a blush coating my cheeks as Blake looked my way and I smiled vaguely before heading to the kitchen.
Nothing to see here, just a girl with something in her butt as she makes coffee. Totally normal.
I started making Saint’s espresso, feeling eyes on me and I glanced towards his room upstairs, finding him leaning his elbows on the balcony railing as he watched. As soon as he caught my attention, he took the pouch out of his pocket, slipping another item out of it and holding it between his finger and thumb as he smirked at me.
I was about to press the button on the espresso machine when the butt plug vibrated and I cried out, my knees half buckling in surprise.
“What’s wrong?” Blake demanded as heat crawled everywhere over my body, including between my thighs.
Holy fuck, that was good and weird and oh my god Blake is still waiting for an explanation!
“Nothing, sorry, I just…saw a spider,” I said lamely as the vibrations stopped.
I’d always had an irrational fear of spiders, ever since I’d camped in New Mexico with my Dad and I’d woken up with four fucking tarantulas in my tent. I’d only been six and it had scarred me for freaking life. Even the little ones gave me the creeps. So faking fear for a pretend one wasn’t that difficult.
“Want me to come and get it?” Blake asked.
“Nah, it’s gone now,” I said, panting a little as I continued to make the espresso.
I glanced up at Saint whose body was rigid and heat pooled through my stomach at the feeling of him watching me.
When I had the tiny glass cup filled with a triple shot of coffee, I carried it towards the dining table. Before I made it there, the vibration started again and I gasped, spilling the shot everywhere as my back arched and my thighs clamped together.
“Fuck,” I exhaled as it stopped, everything below my waistline throbbing with need.
“Is it back?” Blake asked, the sound of gunfire ringing out from his game.
“Yeah… it went under the table.” I scrambled to put my thoughts together as I placed the espresso glass on the table and moved to grab a cloth from the kitchenette. By the time I got back to the spilled coffee, Blake was hunting for the spider, pulling out chairs with a serious expression.
“Where are you, you little shit?” he murmured as I dropped to my knees to wipe up the mess.
Saint took the opportunity to start the vibrations up again and I hunched forward, sucking my lower lip as I tried not to react too obviously, but a moan still escaped me as the sensation crashed through my whole body. “Oh my god, oh my god,” I said under my breath.
“It’s okay, I’ll find it Cinders,” Blake vowed – it was totally cute and I would have told him so if I wasn’t busy trying so hard to hide what was really going on.
Saint was silhouetted by the window behind him as I glanced up, looking like my own personal demon, veiled in shadow.
I realised this was the first time he’d been overtly sexual with me, but how was he supposed to deny that this wasn’t foreplay? You are so dead, mister.
When I’d cleaned the mess on the floor, Saint summoned me upstairs with a single word, “Come.”
He turned the vibrations on again as I made it to the stairs and I wondered if the command had a double meaning as my legs got weak and I had to swallow back my moans as I made it to the last step then dropped to my knees, my muscles tightening, my body shaking.
Saint’s hands gripped me and he dragged me upright, pulling me into the bathroom and clamping a hand over my mouth to stifle the wanton noises escaping me. His hard dick ground into my ass and I pushed back against him in surprise, making him release a low groan as he guided me in front of the bathroom mirror to watch. I convulsed against him as it continued to vibrate, my head falling back against his shoulder as my body gave into a powerful orgasm that took root at my core then spread everywhere in waves of heat and pleasure.
Saint held me through it, his fingers twisting into my hair and his breath cool against my ear.
“Bend forward,” he instructed and I panted heavily as I did so, clutching the edge of the sink as he lifted my dress. His hand slipped into the back of my panties and he removed the plug with deft fingers.
“Go
wait on the bed,” he ordered, his frantic breaths matching mine.
Part of me longed to touch him, turn into his arms and see if he’d take this further, but another, stronger part of me held back. I’d played his game, taken my punishments. I didn’t need to give him anything in return for the pleasure he’d given me. It was just another way to get my revenge. But even as I turned to him, I found a wall going up in his eyes and I didn’t think he would cross that line anyway. The rules meant too damn much to him.
I headed away from him out of the room, moving to sit on the bed cross-legged and willing my heart rate to settle and everywhere between my thighs to stop tingling.
I drummed my fingers on my knees, wondering what was taking him so long and my throat thickened as I got a mental image of him pleasuring himself. Would he…?
He eventually returned with the silk pouch in hand, not casting a look my way as he headed straight into the closet. Totally did.
He returned a few minutes later with my overnight bag packed and the pile of my letters in his hand.
“Pick one,” he offered them to me and I leaned forward, thumbing through them and wishing I could just grab them all and never let them go. But it was pointless. And at least I knew one day I would get them all back. I just had to bide my damn time. I plucked out a letter from Jess that detailed her trip to Ireland and reached forward to tuck it into my overnight bag. Then Saint returned to the closet and I heard the box snap shut a second later, making my heart clench as I lost access to them all over again.
“Time to go to Monroe’s,” he said as he returned, still not acknowledging anything that had just happened between us.
“You broke a rule,” I said, not blinking as I accused him.
“Which rule?” he scoffed.
“No foreplay,” I hissed and he laughed darkly, taking out his phone and tapping something on it.
He passed it to me, his lip pulling up in a sneer. “Read that out loud to me.”
Kings of Lockdown: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep Book 2) Page 56