Ruthless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #4)

by Ivy Fox

  “And you can. I’m just curious.”

  “So am I,” he adds cryptically, but instead of revealing what he means by that, Chad throws me his own humdinger of a question.

  “Have you ever had one?”

  “A hand job? No. If you haven’t noticed, I lack the required equipment to have one.”

  “Who’s being the goof now? I meant an orgasm.”

  I shake my head.

  “Have you ever tried getting off on your own?”

  Another shake.

  “Why not?”

  To that question, I just shrug.

  His brows pinch together as he stares at me.

  “I hate it when you go mute on me.”

  Yeah, well, I hate that you got off with another girl, so I guess we both suck.

  Sigh.

  “Don’t look at me like I’m a basket case, Chad. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got plenty on my plate as it is.”

  “Getting off isn’t a chore, Elle. You’ll like it, trust me.”

  “I wouldn’t even know what to do if I tried,” I huff, disheartened.

  “I could teach you,” he replies, his voice full of hope, making my battered heart immediately jump to my throat.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why would I be kidding? You’re not embarrassed with me, are you?”

  “No,” I choke out.

  “Then I don’t see why we can’t do it together.”

  I feel my eyes going wide while my skin burns to life.

  “You’re actually serious?!”

  “Yep.” He beams, all proud of himself for coming up with this idea.

  I lie back, away from him, pulling my arm over my eyes because this cannot be happening right now. Before I have time to come up with a million and one excuses on how this is a bad idea, Chad’s fingers begin to stroke my outer thigh, up and down so leisurely my heart skips a beat.

  “Does this feel good?” he asks, his voice taking on a deep tone.

  “Uh, huh,” I stutter, keeping my arm right where it is, covering my damn blushing face.

  “We’ll go slowly, and whenever you want me to stop, just say the word, okay?”

  “Hmm,” I mumble again because, apparently, words don’t exist anymore.

  He lightly continues to caress my thigh and moves in closer to me. With his other hand, he pulls my arm away, his face looming above mine.

  “Don’t hide, Elle. This is going to feel good. Promise.”

  He then sways his head to fall on the crook of my neck, his stilled breathing making my insides quiver.

  “You’re not doing anything,” I chide, and he lets out a choked chuckle.

  “I’m trying to find my bearings here, Elle. I’ve never done this before either, you know?”

  “Oh.” I breathe out, thankful that whoever he was with didn’t get the same treatment he obviously wants to lavish me with.

  “Yeah, so cut me some slack.”

  “If you’ve never done this, how do you know what to do?”

  He grows quiet, and I roll my eyes when it finally dawns on me.

  “Porn. Jesus, Chad, how much of that stuff do you watch?” I slap his shoulder, gaining another chuckle out of him.

  “A lot. I mean, a lot, a lot.”

  “Horndog,” I tease.

  “Shh. Stop trying to mess with my mojo here.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want to do that,” I taunt with a giggle of my own.

  “Remember, if you aren’t into it, you can always tell me to stop.”

  “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Quit stalling and make me cum already.”

  He leans into me further, and although I’m acting all aloof and playful on the outside, I’m panting and losing my damn mind on the inside.

  This is really happening!

  He runs his fingers up and down my leg again, and then, ever so slowly, he moves his hand until it’s stroking inside my thighs. I open my legs just a little bit wider to give him more room to play around. My senses go into overdrive when I feel his breath hover over my ear, telling me in detail what he’s about to do.

  “I think it’s better if you think about someone when I touch you.”

  “It is?” I gasp when his curious hand moves up my skirt, just inches away from my panty line.

  “Hmm. The videos work and all, but when I did it, I was picturing someone so it got me there a whole lot faster.”

  So, he wasn’t thinking about the girl he was with? I can probably live with that. Only now, I’m no longer jealous of the girl he was with but who he was fantasizing about.

  “Elle, you still with me?”

  “Yes,” I croak, shutting my eyes to picture the boy looming above me.

  “Okay, then. Who are you thinking about?”

  “Nice try.” I laugh. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  “Fine. Don’t tell me,” he huffs in disappointment yet continues with his caress. “Just imagine that it’s his hands right here. Teasing you, playing with you, begging for you to open up to him. Can you do that?”

  I swallow, my chest heaving up and down at just his voice in my ear.

  “Elle?”

  “Yes. I can do that.”

  “I’m going to touch you now. Soft at first and over your underwear, okay?”

  “Hmm.”

  I wet my lips and seal my lids shut while taking in his lush voice.

  His smell.

  His touch.

  All of it.

  When I feel a featherlight pressure run up and down my entrance, I begin to squirm. I try to keep as still as possible, but it’s damn hard to do when the boy you adore above all others has his fingers touching the most intimate part of your body. My breasts feel suddenly heavy, as if they need to be touched in the same way. I try and concentrate on my shallow breathing, but it’s a hard thing to master when all of my body feels like it’s burning up.

  “Talk to me, Elle. What’s going on in that head of yours? You have to tell me what feels good so I know what to do.”

  “You’re doing fine. It’s just when you touch me there, other parts of my body feel as if they want to be touched, too,” I confess on a ragged breath.

  “Where?”

  I open my eyes and look down at my heaving chest.

  “Oh,” he replies, then takes an excruciatingly long pause before saying anything else.

  “Chad! I’m dying here. What do I do?”

  “I got you, Elle. Just give me a minute, okay? Turn around. Let me spoon you.”

  “Not sure how that’s going to help, but m’kay.”

  He slaps my ass for my sass, and this time the sting only heightens the fevered pitch I was already feeling in my core. I know he wants me to tell him what feels good and what doesn’t, but admitting that his light spanking just turned me on even more is too embarrassing to admit.

  “Let’s try this again,” he orders, with his head next to mine on the pillow, hugging my back to his chest. Gently, he pulls my skirt up to my waist, and just like before, he runs his fingers up and down my outer thigh until I’m fully relaxed before he ventures down inward. Only this time, when he brushes against my wet core, his other hand is just as adventurous, running from my neck slightly down until it meets my breast, engulfing it fully in his hand.

  “Oh, God,” I blurt out.

  “Is that a good ‘Oh, God’?”

  “Yes! Keep going.”

  I feel him snicker behind me before he continues. Ever so lightly, he continues grazing the pad of his thumb on my panties while his other hand plays with the hard nipple on my breast. When he pinches it roughly over my tank top, I let out a gasp, my core desperately seeking the friction of his thumb.

  “Does that feel good?” he rasps, his hard breathing tickling my neck.

  “Hmm.” I groan.

  “Use your words, babe. I want to hear you say it.”

  �
�It feels good. So good.”

  “Good girl,” he praises before kissing the slope of my neck.

  I squirm in place while his lips continue to pepper my neck and shoulder with kisses. Unintentionally, my ass brushes against him, my eyes flying open when I feel his stiff cock in the crease of my ass cheeks.

  “Chad?”

  “Hmm.” He groans when my ass presses up against him for a second time.

  “Are you hard right now?”

  “Fuck yes,” he grunts, his teeth pulling on my earlobe, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. “It’s kind of hard not to be, Elle. But I’ll stop if it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

  “No!” I shake my head profusely and then bite my inner cheek for the outcry. “It’s okay. Just keep going.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks, his tongue trailing a fine line from the back of my ear, down my neck to my shoulder blade.

  Instead of using words to tell him how sure I am, I grab his hand and shove it into my panties.

  “Jesus, you’re killing me, Elle.” He grunts, biting into my skin as his fingers find my wet slit.

  “Why? Why am I killing you?” I pant on a gasp.

  “Because you’re so fucking wet already, and I’m going insane trying to figure out if you’re wet for me or for him.”

  It takes me a minute to decipher what he just said to me, but then I remember that Chad thinks I’m imagining someone else as he plays my body like a fiddle. Instead of admitting the truth, I simply press further up against him, hoping I can make him feel a sliver of the overwhelming sensations he’s causing me to have.

  Only this time, I don’t shut my eyes. I tilt my head to the side so that our gazes lock with one another. His Adam’s apple bobs furiously, his eyes a green meadow set aflame. I continue to slowly rub up against his stiff cock, as his thumb finds my swollen clit. I stifle the moan that wants to come out, my lids closing for half a second.

  “Don’t. Keep your eyes on me. Just look at me, Elle.”

  I’m so out of it I don’t even nod, but I keep my gaze fixed on him at all times, just as he demanded. Heat starts to rise from the balls of my feet to the top of my head, my belly fluttering away as he increases the rhythm and pressure on my clit. My breasts feel even heavier now, sensitive to his every touch.

  “Chad,” I whisper, unsure of what I want to say, knowing that I only want him to hear his name on my lips as my body begins to succumb to the euphoric feeling.

  I grind against his hand, needing that friction, while dry humping his hard cock from behind. My burning skin is a living, breathing thing, a live wire ready to snap at any second with the electric current running through my veins. Whatever sensation I’m chasing is right there, pulling me toward it at record speed. My jaw goes slack as I gasp for air, unprepared for the overwhelming phenomenon rocking my body.

  I’m so close.

  I’m so close.

  And as I’m about to beg for mercy, Chad’s hungry eyes fall to my lips before capturing them with his. It’s with his kiss that I fall off the precipice, blinding light scorching every inch of my skin until nothing of me exists except this feeling. My soul hovers above us, greedy to prolong whatever this is, while my heart shatters into a million little pieces remembering this is not real. It’s only a fleeting moment shared with a friend and not as the lover I want him to be.

  “Are you okay?” he asks softly, rubbing his nose with mine.

  No.

  “Yes,” I lie. “Are you?”

  “I will be once you grab a pair of the twins’ sweatpants for me.” He lets out a weak laugh. “I can’t exactly leave your room like this,” he explains, pointing to the wet spot on his crotch. It should please me that he came with me, but my muddled thoughts can’t even go there right now.

  Not when they’re consumed with so much doubt.

  “Who was she?” I whisper. “Who was the girl that… you know?”

  A deep frown creases his forehead before he hides his face away from me, pulling me into a hug.

  “I didn’t say it was a girl.”

  And with that confession hanging in the air, it feels as if someone finally opened my bedroom window, thrusting a cold, bitter wind of clarity into the room and sucking all the ambiguity out of it. My previous suspicions disappear like a puff of smoke in a windstorm. Where doubt once ruled my thoughts as to the identity of the person who could try and sway his heart away from mine, only certainty prevails.

  Santiago.

  How I hate you.

  Chapter 22

  Saint

  Enraged, I saunter hurriedly into the bathroom as the girls putting on their makeup, screeching their heads off the second they see me in their safe space.

  All but one, that is.

  “Leave,” I order.

  All of them scramble away, except for little smug Elle Grayson. She leans against the sink, crossing her arms under her breasts, making those two puppies look even more tantalizing. But today, I’m not going to be distracted by those beauties. Not when I’m seething with rage.

  “This is the girls’ bathroom, Saint. I know you can read.”

  “Funny,” I rebuke, eating up the distance between us.

  “What do you want?”

  “Heard you and Boy Scout got to third base yesterday.”

  Her cheeks flush crimson, but her ice-cold stare on me never wavers.

  “What’s it to you?”

  I shrug nonchalantly, while inside, I’m doing everything in my power not to strangle the spoiled, rich princess where she stands.

  “Just found it odd that two friends would do that type of shit together.”

  “Last I heard, you two did some pretty intense shit too, friend.”

  Shit.

  Chad told her about our time together, too? Damn Boy Scout and his big mouth. Doesn’t he know you don’t kiss and tell? But he’s not the one I have to deal with now. The little she-devil standing before me is.

  “Is that what we are… friends?” I tilt my head to the side mockingly.

  “You know we’re not.” She sneers, lifting the corner of her upper lip in disgust. “I only tolerate you for Chad’s benefit.”

  “Ditto, Princess.”

  She rolls her eyes at me, turning around to face the mirror, pretending to fix her hair.

  “Are we done here?” she asks in annoyance.

  “I don’t know. Seems to me we’re never done as long as we don’t get what we want,” I reply, tugging at the end of her long ponytail.

  She instantly turns to face me, swatting my hand away from her.

  “And what do you want?” she asks with the same hatred that’s currently sizzling through my bloodstream.

  “Not what. Who. And you know exactly who that is, Princess. Don’t act dumb. We both know you’re not.”

  “Over my dead body, will I ever let that happen.”

  “I’d like to see you stop me. What a pretty corpse you’ll make,” I tease, pulling on a lock of chestnut silk.

  Of course it was stupid of me to lower my guard down for even a second. Distracted by the feel of her hair running past my fingertips, the she-devil surprises the fuck out of me when she latches onto my hand with her teeth, biting down hard into my palm until a trickle of blood falls onto the ceramic bathroom tile.

  I grab Elle by the nape of her neck, roughly pulling her to me until our chests slam against one another while attempting to pry my nicked-up hand away from her sharp teeth.

  “Ha! There is my little hellcat. I knew she was in there somewhere.”

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” She shakes her head violently, punching my chest with her delicate fists. But throughout her outburst, my hold remains solid and true.

  “Or what?” I smirk venomously.

  “I’ll claw your eyes out, Santiago. I swear to God, I’ll end you.”

  A hard laugh rips its way through my throat as I lean in closer to her.

&
nbsp; “I’m right here, hellcat. Go on and do your worst. Try it. I dare you,” I provoke, putting my hand right at the seam of her lips.

  She rises up onto the balls of her feet and bites it for all she’s worth. Her teeth sink yet again into my flesh, and my cock hardens at the touch of her tongue on my skin. I snatch my hand away, her feral gaze locked with mine as she pants like a mad animal, thirsting to get its teeth back into me.

  “You think a little blood scares me, Princess? You’re going to need bigger fangs than that to scare me off.” I warn with my face inches away from hers.

  “You want a fight? Prepare for war, Saint.”

  “You’re cute when you get all riled up.”

  “Don’t patronize me, asshole.”

  “Oh, I’m not. I’m just telling you how much fun it will be for me to break that perfect facade you put on for everyone, Chad included.”

  Her demon eyes burn with hellfire, my stiffening cock only growing with the hate embedded in her gaze.

  “Chad knows who I am.”

  “Does he really, though? I think I know you much better than he does. I know the lengths you will go to to get what you want. But see, I’m not afraid of lowering myself to your level. You don’t scare me, Princess. You never have.”

  “And you think you scare me?” She huffs. “Please. You’re nothing. Nothing!”

  I kick her legs apart, a loud gasp spilling from her lips when I place myself right in between her thighs.

  “Oh, I’m something, baby. I’m the boogeyman who fucking terrifies you. I’m everything you hate and despise because you see your reflection when you look at me. Tell me I’m lying.”

  “You’re lying!”

  I grip her jaw with such force I’m sure to leave a bruise, but Elle doesn’t so much as blink.

  “Your little games with Chad end today.”

  “Or what?” she seethes.

  “Or I’ll play for keeps. You don’t want that, do you?”

  The sliver of vulnerability that flashes for a split second in her eyes is enough for me to know that she thinks she can’t win. I know by heart that type of helplessness—the wretched feeling of powerlessness that consumes your very soul. I feel it burning inside me every day.

  “Let me go, Santiago!” she orders.