Ruthless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #4)

by Ivy Fox

  Parting the gawking crowd like he’s Moses in the Red Sea, Saint strolls through the corridor like he owns the place. His arm is dropped over a red-cheeked Maya, who is doing everything in her power not to make direct eye contact with any of the kids who are staring at them.

  Saint’s cocky demeanor isn’t new or surprising to me. Still, the visible ink and piercings on his body are definitely a novelty and the sole reason why everyone is losing their fucking minds this morning. A large cross sits proudly on his neck, and the outline of the ink on his forearms tells me that pretty soon, both of his arms will also be covered in glorious color. If the new tattoos weren’t impressive enough, then the barbell through his eyebrow, in addition to the studs in his ears, officially crowns him as Pembroke High’s number one notorious bad boy.

  Just as he probably intended, no doubt.

  With my back leaning against the locker and my arms stiffly crossed on my chest, I watch his every move until his victory lap comes to an end to where Elle and I are both standing.

  “What’s up?” He tilts his chin in greeting, his smug smirk laced with triumph.

  What’s up?

  I could fucking punch him in the nose for that aloof greeting alone, especially because it’s the most he’s said to me in weeks. And now I understand why. All his spare time went to sitting in a tattoo artist’s chair to get his warpaint on.

  I know Santiago’s inner workings. This little show he’s putting on this morning is just another slap in the face to every person in this school who thinks he’s just another East River Projects thug.

  Since his car got vandalized a few weeks back, he has been fixated on making everyone fear him. Instead of denying the accusations made against him, he’s now decided to wear their prejudice on his skin, owning their malicious defamations like a badge of honor.

  “Something on your mind?” he repeats, trying to coax a reaction from me.

  “Something like that. Just watching the Saint show and counting down the days until it’s canceled,” I counter, not one bit impressed with his new tatted-up look.

  Does he look hot?

  Fuck yes.

  But did he mark his body because it was something he always wanted to do?

  The jury is out on that one.

  “What?” He chuckles. “This too much for you, Boy Scout?”

  He runs his tongue over his front teeth, another barbell peeking out from his parted lips.

  “You never were one to do things halfway, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  His brows crease into a frown, hearing the less-than-proud tone in my voice.

  How can I be when he lets himself get riled up like this?

  Instead of shrugging off the shit that some assholes said about him—idiots that he wouldn’t even recognize if they passed him in the hallway, by the way—he went into DEFCON 1 mode and decided vengeance was the only way to gain back his respect.

  If the tats and the piercings were all he did, then maybe I could appreciate the new artwork on his body, but the new ink is the tamest thing he’s done lately. You needed to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to have heard the rumors spreading through Pembroke.

  While the lacrosse and football teams were in practice one afternoon, somehow, each of the player’s cars got completely obliterated by baseball bats, hammers, and bricks in a span of an hour—definitely not a one-man job, which means Saint outsourced his vendetta. Since the school’s cameras were miraculously turned off at the time of the attack, no one can really say that it was Saint behind the destruction. And since the school had only given a slap on the wrist to the perpetrators that had fucked with his car—who by the way had been caught on camera—their hands were tied when it came to giving Saint any type of serious punishment for his retaliation.

  Of course, Saint couldn’t let bygones be bygones. He just had to go the extra mile and use his dick as the tool to further embarrass his bullies, taking photographs of their girlfriends in not-so-favorable positions. If this school ever had doubts whether Saint was someone you could fuck with or not, then he made it painfully clear that they can’t.

  To say that I’m not on board with what he’s done is an understatement. But then again, Saint was never one to ask for permission.

  Or beg for forgiveness, either.

  “You look very pretty today, Maya. That haircut really suits you,” Elle interjects sweetly, bypassing the awkward staring match between Saint and me in favor of complimenting the shy girl who hasn’t lifted her eyes from the linoleum floor.

  Elle brushes the long bang away from Maya’s face and lifts her chin to meet her eyes.

  “It’s true, Maya. You really do look stunning with this short hair, so don’t you be all bashful. Chin up, and let everyone see how exceptional you are.”

  Maya’s lips twitch at the corner, uncertain, but as Elle continues to gift her a genuine tender smile, Maya begins to soften.

  “Thank you.”

  “How about we walk together to class? I’m really interested in hearing more about your new writing project.”

  Elle hooks her arm with Maya’s and starts heading down the hall.

  “Hey, Princess! Not even going to give me a hello?” Saint yells, amused, at her retreating back.

  “Sure, I will. Here it is,” she bellows, flipping him off.

  Saint chuckles away, his dark black eyes falling back on me. When he sees I’m still pissed at his antics, he lets out a sigh and leans against the locker next to me with a loud thud.

  “You sure as fuck are in a mood today. On your period or something, Blondie?” He winks, playing with that damn barbell in his tongue.

  I hate how hot it makes him.

  “That’s funny,” I retort sarcastically, pushing the thoughts of how good he looks out of my mind.

  He lets out a huff and turns his shoulder to face me.

  “Just say whatever you have to, Chad. I know you’re dying to anyway.”

  Chad.

  Not Blondie.

  Not Boy Scout.

  But Chad.

  In other words, he knows exactly how upset I am for the shit he’s done, yet he went and did it anyway. Even went as far as to ignore me the last couple of weeks just so he wouldn’t have to confront me with what he’s done. That only irritates me further.

  “You know what? It’s none of my business. You do you, Santiago. You always have.”

  I push myself off the locker and rush to catch up with Elle and Maya. I hear him call out my name, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. When I finally reach our English class, Elle throws me a concerned frown. I take my seat next to her, getting my textbook out of my backpack like it’s just your average Monday morning.

  “Are you okay?” Elle whispers beside me, squeezing my knee.

  “I’m fine, babe. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  I give her my golden smile, but it doesn’t erase the concern from her face.

  “He really can’t help himself, can he?” she mumbles, pinpointing the exact reason why I’m off this morning.

  I cover her hand with mine, hoping the caress is enough for her to let this subject go.

  Why am I so upset?

  It’s not like he did anything to me personally. So he got some ink and silver and didn’t tell me about it? So what? I’m not his keeper. I’m just his friend.

  Just his best friend.

  The same best friend who silently stood by while he fucked around with more girls than I have fingers.

  Just his friend.

  That’s all I am.

  So why do I feel so betrayed?

  “Chad,” Elle calls out, trying to get me out of my troubling thoughts.

  If anyone can do it, it’d be her.

  “Yeah?”

  When I see shame coat her lovely amber eyes, my hackles rise.

  “What is it, babe?”

  She chews the corner of her lip, trying to gnaw away the
same worry and guilt imprinted on her face.

  “It was me. I’m the one who told Kimmy Sullivan over summer break about Saint’s dad. I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out. I swear!” she explains with pure panic in her voice.

  “I know, babe,” I reply calmly, running the pad of my thumb over her cheek.

  “You do?! How?”

  “I overheard you talking to Mags once in the kitchen about Saint and his parents. Aside from me, only you knew at this school that his dad had run with the Latin Kings and was up at Rikers for breaking and entering. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots.”

  “I really didn’t mean to, though. I’m not going to lie and say that Saint and I are BFFs, but I would never intentionally out his family hardships. Lord knows my family has plenty of skeletons in its closet. I wouldn’t do him like that, no matter how much he gets on my nerves. You believe me, don’t you?”

  I cup her chin, my Elle’s golden eyes ever so earnest and wide.

  “Of course, I do.”

  “So, you don’t hate me?”

  “Is that what you were worried about?” I chuckle. “That will never happen, Elle. Not in a million years. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she murmurs under her breath, her tense shoulders relaxing.

  “But it would be nice if you apologized to him.”

  Not that he deserves it after what he’s done, but it’s the right thing to do.

  “Yeah, I’m working on it.” She rolls her eyes.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” she answers quickly before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss on my cheek.

  That’s my Elle.

  Saint can paint her with any villainous stroke he wants. I’ll always know her heart.

  Just as I know his.

  Or at least I thought I did.

  Lately, I’m not so sure anymore.

  “So, this is how you get your kicks, huh? Banging one out to the hard stuff, I see. Never thought you were the type to like it rough, Boy Scout.”

  “The fuck!” I yell when Saint comes into my room unexpectedly.

  I pull the comforter over me to hide my throbbing erection—as fast as I can manage without falling off the bed—and then slam the lid on my laptop so hard that it’s a miracle I didn’t break it. “Don’t you fucking knock?!”

  “Even if I did, you wouldn’t have heard me over all that grunting and moaning,” Saint goads, slumping in next to me, pulling the laptop away from my grasp and onto his lap. “Now, let me see that video again.”

  “Jesus,” I grumble, still out of breath from the small heart attack he almost gave me.

  To my utter embarrassment, when he opens my laptop, the porno I was watching is set to pause right as the guy is jamming his dick in the restrained girl’s mouth. Instead of turning it off, Saint just makes himself even more comfortable beside me. He stretches his long legs on my mattress, leaning his head against the headboard next to mine, and starts the video. We’re just one minute into the thing when I uncomfortably shift beside him to hide the growing bulge under the comforter.

  “Hey, don’t stop on my account,” he teases, nudging me on the shoulder and eyeing my very visible hard-on.

  “Fuck you, asshole. It’s not the same with you here.”

  “Don’t see why not, but whatever. So tell me. What do you like about it?” He tilts his head back to the screen.

  “You mean porn?” I ask, confused.

  “No, Blondie.” He chuckles. “I meant about bondage.”

  “It’s not the bondage that I’m into.”

  “It’s not?” Saint cocks an inquisitive brow.

  “No. It’s the girl’s submission. Her complete trust in him, in knowing that no matter what he does, he’ll take care of her needs just as much as his own.”

  “Only you could flower up something as kinky as BDSM.”

  “God, will you stop calling it that!” I reprimand, taking the laptop away from him.

  “Whatever. What else do you like? Whips, chains? Tell me, what does a goody-goody like you get a boner for?”

  “Why are we even friends?” I huff under my breath.

  “Because you love my ass. Now answer the fucking question,” he retorts, taking the laptop yet again out of my hands and onto his lap. When he begins to scroll my internet history, I feel like the whole world is set against me.

  “Will you stop?” I plea after he finds another video. Only this time, it’s a girl with her hands and ankles tied to a table, which is made out of two wooden boards forming an X, while her two lovers patiently circle around her, thinking of all the wicked ways they’re about to make her cum.

  Of course, Saint has to pick that one to watch.

  “Fuck. You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ at the end.

  “What do you want to know, then,” I answer in defeat, banging the back of my head on the headboard.

  “Everything.”

  “Fine. Okay, so maybe I like seeing the girls tied up and at my mercy. Ropes, chains, cuffs, and ties are cool, but I could do without the whips and paddles. I like seeing them in pain, but not if it’s physically inflicted. The only suffering I like is watching them breathless in anticipation of the guy’s next move.”

  “Noted. What else?”

  “It turns me on when the guys stuff her panties in her mouth. Gagging works, too.”

  “Yeah,” he replies hoarsely, the hint of a bulge in his slacks starting to appear.

  I lick my parched lips, unable to stop myself from stroking my stiffening cock under my bedspread.

  “I like the control,” I admit on a shallow breath.

  “Of course, you do,” he replies mockingly.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not. I’m just stating a fact. A guy like you who has his whole life planned out for him needs some semblance of control. Even if that means he can only get it in the bedroom.”

  “I really don’t know if you’re being understanding or condescending?”

  “Part of my charm, Blondie. Always leave them guessing.”

  “Right,” I rebuke, turning the video off since his callous remark reminded me that I’m upset with him.

  “You’re still pissed at me, huh?”

  I seal my lips shut and close my eyes, unable to look at him, especially when his voice sounds so regretful.

  “I’ll get over it.”

  A long stretch of silence ensues, only interrupted when I hear him tap away on the keys of my laptop. A woman’s moan slices the tense air around us as she begs to be fucked faster. Harder. I open my eyes, my gaze instantly going to the screen. A brown-haired beauty, with big eyes and even wider lips, gasps in ecstasy as two men pin her between them.

  My heart rate picks up as the cameraman zooms in on her face and captures half-mast amber eyes staring back at his lens. My mouth runs dry at the actress’s close resemblance to my Elle, which makes a stifled groan rip from my throat because of it.

  I feel—rather than see—Saint’s heavy gaze on my hard cock, and I really wish he would look somewhere else just so I could ease the suffering I’m in.

  “Are you going to leave yourself like that? Blue balls are a bitch, man.”

  “Well, I can’t do anything about it with you in the room, now can I?”

  “If it were Princess who caught you with your pants down, would you have stopped?”

  I feel my forehead wrinkle at that question.

  “You know she’s not the submissive type, right?” he adds softly, sounding almost sad for me.

  “Yeah, I know that.”

  “Is that why you haven’t popped her cherry yet? Because you know she’ll never give you what you need?”

  “She gives me exactly what I need. Sex isn’t everything, you know?” I quip back assertively, which is a damn miracle since the woman on the screen coming undone in bot
h her lovers’ arms is slowly driving me to the brink of insanity.

  “Liar.” He chuckles half-heartedly. “It’s a big fucking part of wanting to be with someone or not.”

  “Why?” I tilt my head to face him. “It doesn’t seem to bother you any. You fuck everything that walks. You do just fine having sex with no one you actually care about, so why are we so different?”

  “I never said we were.”

  My shoulders slump, witnessing his obvious contrition.

  “She’s my best friend. That’s enough.”

  “Another lie.”

  “Jesus!” I slam my fist on the bed between us. “Did you just come over to bust my balls?”

  “Dude, you’re hard as fuck right now. Busting those babies would be child’s play.”

  “Fuck off.” I chuckle, his joke succeeding in lightening the mood.

  “You don’t believe me?” He grins, running that damn silver barbell over his front teeth, pre-cum instantly coating the head of my cock.

  Then to my utter shock, Saint’s eyes bounce away from my face and onto my raging hard-on, cupping it with his hand.

  “I bet I can get you to cum before they do,” he teases, pointing to the trio on-screen while adding some pressure to my stiff rod.

  “What?” I stutter, wetting my lips with my tongue at how good it feels to have his hand on me.

  “Pull the duvet off you, Boy Scout. I know you like calling the shots, but entertain me.”

  Unable to deny him, I pull the comforter down, my bare cock bobbing away in my shorts. He pulls at the hem of it, but I grab his wrist to stop him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just trust me,” he replies, pulling my shorts down just enough for my cock to spring free. His black eyes shine as he admires my length and girth. On bated breath, I wait for him to place the laptop at our feet and return to sit right next to me, not leaving one inch in between us this time. Saint grabs the base of my cock, a gasp instantly leaving my lips.

  “Having another person jack you off is a whole other experience. You’re welcome, asshole,” he jokes, but I don’t miss the fire in his eyes as he tightens his hold on me. “Keep your eyes on her and let me do the rest.”