Ruthless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #4)

by Ivy Fox

  With my left hand clutching the bedsheet beneath me and my right squeezing his thigh, I let Saint slowly begin to stroke my cock, willingly succumbing to the glorious sensation. As much as I try not to look at him and only focus on what’s playing on my computer, my attention is solely on his long strokes and heavy breathing beside me.

  “Does that feel good?” he whispers hoarsely after a while, but I’m so out of it all I can do is nod.

  He snickers at me and begins to quicken his pace.

  “Don’t. Go slow,” I order, covering his hand with my own and showing him the tempo I want.

  “Oh, you’re one of those, huh? Delayed gratification and all that shit.”

  “Just shut the fuck up and do what I tell you.”

  “Whatever you say, Boy Scout.” He laughs.

  Even though he has finally found the rhythm I want, I never take my hand off his, the intimate contact fueling my desire.

  “This doesn’t seem fair to me.” He groans as he pulls down his zipper and releases his own impressive cock.

  My mouth waters as he rubs his thumb over his mushroom head.

  “If you look at it any harder, I’ll have to put it in your mouth to teach you a lesson on manners,” he jokes, but the need in his voice betrays him.

  “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

  Precum leaks immediately from the tip of his cock at the idea.

  “Yeah? Don’t think you’re man enough,” he croaks, his strokes turning more aggressive.

  “Test me, Saint, and I’ll have you on your knees to prove to you how much of a fucking man I am.”

  “Fuck.” He groans, his lids shutting of their own accord.

  “Maybe the only way I can get you to shut up every once in a while is to have you gagging on my cock.”

  His brows crease, sweat coating his forehead while my blood runs on gasoline and propellant, ready for him to strike the match so we can both burn with this feeling.

  “Not used to this side of you, Boy Scout.”

  “Then next time, don’t interrupt a guy when he’s trying to get off.”

  He swallows hard, jerking his cock to oblivion as he keeps a steady slow pace on mine.

  “Always so impatient to get to the finish line,” I growl, slapping his hand away and replacing it with my own.

  His cock is like a scorching iron rod, burning my palm and insides with its velvety smooth skin. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as I slowly stroke him from base to tip. For once, he’s at a loss for words, which only amps up my arousal. Ever so gently, I begin tightening my grip on him, his forehead falling to my shoulder.

  “You wanted to play, didn’t you? How come you’re the one falling apart?”

  “Just keeping going. Fuck, you feel good,” he stutters, his shallow breath tickling my neck.

  “It would feel better in your mouth,” I provoke, letting the image fester in my head just as much as it is in his.

  “Fuck.”

  “Is that what you want, Saint? To wrap your lips around me and milk me dry?”

  “Don’t stop,” is all he says, shutting his lids tightly and tugging at my cock as if it were the only lifeline keeping him tethered to the bed.

  “Look at me,” I rasp, my own voice alien to me.

  He tilts his head just enough for me to see his tar-infused black eyes scorching with need.

  “Is this what you want?”

  “Yes,” he croaks unashamedly.

  Our faces are so close to one another that all I have to do is lean in, bridge the small gap between our mouths, and kiss him. But instead of doing what I long for, I provoke him further, his suffering only increasing my lust for him.

  “Is it? Or would you rather have me on my knees?”

  His torn expression turns wild at the thought, loving the new image I planted in his head.

  “Do you want to feel my tongue here?” I taunt, running my thumb over his exposed crown. “Or what if my lips were wrapped tight around you, stroking you up and down until you couldn’t handle it anymore and you had to cum in my mouth?”

  “Fuck! I’m cumming,” is all he has time to say before his head falls to the crook of my neck, stifling his moan by biting into my shoulder.

  With Saint’s lips pressed against my feverish skin and the quick glimpse of the brunette on-screen falling victim to her own release, it’s all the incentive I need to tip me over and cum in his hand. My heart pounds in my chest as spurts of hot cum keep trickling down our hands. Elation like I’ve never felt before consumes me from within, an inner peace settling in my chest.

  We stay silent like this for the longest time, our ragged breathing waning down with each passing second. The urge to hold him in my arms, run my fingers through his hair while I kiss him senseless is all-consuming, but I remain rigid still, content just having him lean against me, his head still cradled on my shoulder. It’s only when he rises and steps off the bed that apprehension takes its swing at me.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just going to get a wet towel to clean ourselves up. God, Blondie, who knew you could be so bossy even after tossing a load,” he goads with a flirtatious wink, completely at ease with what we’ve just done. I breathe easy, realizing that nothing’s changed between us.

  He’s still Saint, and I’m still me.

  As he strolls over to my bathroom, I grab the laptop to turn the video off. It’s only now that my head is no longer consumed with lust-filled fog that a sudden unsettling feeling takes over.

  This isn’t one of my videos.

  When I check the browser history, I confirm that Saint didn’t Google it, either. He knew exactly where to find it, which means he’s seen this one before. I start the video again, only this time I mute it so he can’t hear it from inside the bathroom. It’s only after closer inspection that I realize, not only does the woman on-screen look remarkably like an older version of my Elle, but also that her lovers have similar characteristics of both Saint and me. One is dark-haired, with piercing black eyes that look as if they could devour souls, while his partner is the complete opposite with blond, wavy hair and a carefree smile.

  Since the blond has his eyes closed in most of the video, I fast-forward the porno to a part where I can get a better look at him. The minute I find a shot with his eyes open, I immediately pause it. At close range, his green emerald eyes are unmistakable. And so is his all-American smile that showcases his dimples, much like my smile does to mine.

  Where once I had found some sort of inner peace just a minute ago, only confusion rules my thoughts now.

  Why this video, Saint? Why?

  My chest tightens, heavy rocks flinging themselves to the floor of my stomach. It’s not that the male actors’ resemblance to us bothers me because it doesn’t. It’s the woman they’re sharing between them that gives me a sick feeling and steals my previous afterglow.

  As a whistling, joyous Saint walks back into the room, I gently close my laptop, forcing myself to give him the same smile he’s donning for me while pushing away all thoughts pertaining to his chosen video.

  It must have been a coincidence.

  That’s what it was. It must have been.

  He knows Elle is my heart. He knows it.

  And while I’m more than happy to give Saint whatever he wants—my body included—there are just some things that I will never be able to give him.

  Elle being number one on my off-limits list.

  I thought I made that clear.

  So why do I feel it bears reminding?

  Chapter 21

  Elle

  My legs dance in the air, earbuds plugged in my ears while I read the passage in my history textbook about the French Revolution one more time. Say what you will about Marie Antoinette, but the girl had flair. Yes, she was a total A-hole to her people, but she sure knew how to wear a ball gown. As I flip the page, I can’t help but grin like a madwoman, remembering how another Que
en B recently lost her crown.

  I would have given anything to be a fly on the wall on the day that Rome dumped Addison and sent her packing. I don’t know exactly what she did to piss my big brother off since Rome is a tomb when it comes to discussing his personal life. However, it must have been terrible for him to finally come to his senses and see Addison for the person she really is.

  Better late than never, I always say.

  If he’s hurting, he hasn’t shown it. I think he might just be relieved he saw her for the conniving, manipulative bitch that she is before he did something stupid like put a ring on her finger.

  I cringe at the thought.

  One day he’ll meet someone who is worthy of him. Someone that will bring the light back in his eyes, like Mom used to do.

  Like Chad does for me.

  My concentration on my brother’s love life is blown to smithereens when I feel a hard slap on my ass cheek. Turning slightly on the bed, I look up at my green-eyed, heart-stopping, gorgeous best friend, who is smugly smiling while leaning against my bed frame.

  “Slapping my ass isn’t going to make me study any faster, Chad,” I tease, placing my bare foot on his chest, giving it a little push. He grabs my ankle and pulls me farther up on the bed, making me giggle hysterically.

  “Is this your way of telling me you want a time out?”

  “YES!” He laughs, moving from his spot just to fall on top of me.

  His head nestles into the crook of my neck, making my skin break out in goosebumps. When I feel his hands grab hold of my waist, I have to take a deep breath to steady my beating heart.

  “It’s been two hours already. My head can’t take in any new information. I’m serious, babe. It’s all maxed out.” He groans, running his nose up and down my neck.

  Dear mother of God.

  This boy sure does know how to drive me insane.

  “Fine, you want a break? Let’s have one, then,” I reply, pushing him off me and crawling up the bed, so I’m the one leaning against the headboard now.

  A little distance is just what the doctor ordered to keep my active imagination in check. Chad has always been touchy-feely, but lately, he’s been even more attentive.

  His hands linger on my body a little longer.

  His kisses on my cheek feel more intimate.

  His half-mast gaze on me seems a little hungrier.

  It’s enough to make a sane girl like me lose her mind. Especially when said girl is fucking tired of being imprisoned in the friend zone. Chad keeps hold of my ankle, running a finger up and down my bare calf. His head stays bowed as if in deep thought.

  “Is something on your mind?”

  He tilts his head back up, a slight tinge of pink coloring his cheeks.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it, but I don’t know. It never felt right.”

  “Okay? Color me intrigued. What’s up?”

  “I did something the other day,” he admits, unable to look me in the eye.

  “Don’t be a goof, Chad, and spit it out. You know you can tell me anything.” I laugh.

  “I got my first hand job.”

  “You WHAT?!” I yell, causing Chad to immediately crawl up my bed to cover my mouth, knocking our textbooks to the floor in the process.

  “Shit, girl. Do you want one of your brothers to come in here? They’ll think I’m murdering you or something.”

  “I think you kind of already did. A hand job? When? How? WHO?!” I yell wide-eyed, my heart thumping madly in my chest, threatening to break at any minute.

  “Easy, babe. It’s not what you think. I didn’t lose my virginity or anything. It was just your average run-of-the-mill hand job. Not anything newsworthy,” he explains, trying to take the sting out of the soul-crushing news.

  As his best friend, logic tells me I should be happy for him. But as the girl who has loved him all her life, I can’t find it in my heart to be. He twists his lips, looking up at the heavens for a moment before turning to face me.

  “You’re upset,” he mumbles, troubled.

  No shit!

  I’m more than upset.

  I’m wrecked!

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” he adds somberly, pushing his body off mine to lie beside me and stare at the ceiling.

  Damn it.

  Put your big girl pants on, Elle.

  This is huge for him.

  Don’t shut him out.

  You’ll only push him away if you do.

  I take a deep breath, scotch tape my scissored-up heart, and lean on my side, to be there for the one person who has always had my back, even if it hurts like a mother.

  “Oh, don’t you dare, Chadwick Murphy,” I whisper playfully, poking at his chest. “You started this conversation, and now you damn well are going to finish it. Give me all the deets.”

  And the award for best academy performance goes to… Elle Grayson on her spectacular role of playing the understanding best friend. Give the girl a round of applause.

  “Are you sure?” he asks anxiously.

  I roll my eyes because that’s what he expects of me, while inside, I’m screaming my head off for him not to tell me a damn thing. I don’t think my heart can take it.

  “Of course, I’m sure,” I lie. When a shy smile tugs at the corner of his upper lip, I take another deep breath, preparing myself for what no doubt will be a bullet to my heart. “Now spill.”

  “Promise you won’t laugh?” he asks timidly, tugging at the hem of my tank top.

  Laugh?

  I’m trying not to have a heart attack over here!

  “Promise,” I say with all the composure I still have.

  “Have you ever watched porn?” he asks with a straight face, and for the life of me, as much as I try, I can’t help but laugh.

  “You promised you wouldn’t laugh, you little brat.”

  “Oh, my God! Oh, my God,” I stammer between my fits of giggles. I’m not sure if the sudden hysteria is provoked by the word porn being spoken by Chad, of all people, or if it’s just my coping mechanism preventing me from bawling my eyes out. “I’m sorry, but warn a girl next time when you spring something like porn on her.” I continue to chuckle.

  “Forget it. Forget I said anything.” He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Too late for that.” I continue to giggle.

  It’s only the forlorn expression that suddenly overpowers his face that makes me pause. I inch a little bit closer to him until my head is cradled against his chest.

  “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t laugh anymore.”

  “Nope, you ruined it.”

  “Please. I’ll be good,” I vow, placing my chin on his chest to stare into his eyes. “You won’t hear another peep out of me,” I profess while pretending to zip my mouth shut and throw away the key.

  He slants his eyes suspiciously for a minute, but then he relaxes and begins playing with the errant lock of my hair that must have sprung free from my messy bun.

  “So, what did you watch?” I ask, curious, preferring the topic of porn to the elephant in the room.

  And by elephant, I mean the girl he was intimate with who wasn’t me. I don’t even know who she is, and I already hate her guts.

  Nope.

  Don’t be that girl, Eleanor.

  You haven’t exactly staked your claim on him, now, have you?

  Don’t be hating on the girl just because she got lucky.

  As far as the New York female population is concerned, Chad is a free agent.

  And that’s on you, not her.

  “Do you really want to know?” he asks, bringing me back from my self-deprecating thoughts.

  I nod sheepishly.

  “A bunch of stuff. It took me a minute to be able to pick out something I liked.”

  “Good to know you’re so picky,” I tease lightheartedly. Or at least I hope that’s how it sounds to Chad. “And…”
<
br />   “And what?”

  “Jesus, Chad! You can’t lay a bomb on me like that and not follow up on it. How was it?”

  “The porn?” he questions, confused.

  “No!” I exclaim, softly slapping his chest. “The hand job!”

  His cheeks turn scarlet red, his green eyes sparkling with excitement, and I feel a little piece of me die at how happy he is.

  “It was good. Like really good. Actually, it was fucking amazing!”

  “I can see that.” I bite my inner cheek anxiously.

  “Have you ever watched? Porn, I mean?”

  I shake my head.

  “Do you want to?” he asks, caressing my cheek with his knuckles, stealing the oxygen in the room.

  My teeth bite down harder as I nod my head.

  Chad stretches his arm to my nightstand and picks up his phone. He then pulls me up to sprawl beside him with the phone in his hand, pressing a bunch of buttons before coming up with a video of a girl and two guys. He then turns off the volume and presses play. Thank God I locked my bedroom door earlier because I’m not sure Rome would approve if he walked in on us right now.

  For the next eight and a half minutes, my eyes are glued to the screen and what I see is not only extremely intimidating but also hot as hell. I swallow dryly the whole time, my skin heating up just as much as the girl who is being shared between her two lovers.

  “What do you think?” he rasps next to me.

  “Was this the same video you watched when you… you know… did it?”

  He nods.

  “She’s very pretty,” I add, trying not to sound jealous.

  “Hmm,” he hums casually, running a gentle finger up and down my thigh.

  “You don’t think she’s pretty? Why watch if she isn’t your type?”

  “It has nothing to do with my type. It’s the scene itself. I don’t know. I just got off on it.”

  “Literally.” I giggle nervously.

  “Don’t be a brat. You’re my best friend, Elle. I should be able to talk to you about this stuff.”