Wicked Saint: Sinners and Saints Book 1
Page 9
Trailing off, I furrow my eyebrows and retrace my way to the deserted locker room. It shouldn’t be empty. Blair is on the girl’s track and field team. She told me once that it’s always packed right after school with girls from her team and the cheer squad squabbling to get changed for their practices.
I jump when my phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Lucas again.
Lucas: Let’s play a game today. You run and I’ll chase you. Loser has to give me a kiss. (That’s you [black heart emoji] [smirk emoji]).
“Asshole.” I put my phone away and linger by Mr. Garcia’s door.
It’s eerie in the empty room, every step echoing. I get the irrational feeling like I’m in a horror movie and my heart rate kicks up a notch.
I spin on my heel to head for the exit. Fuck this. Mr. Garcia can hit me up tomorrow for whatever he needed to see me about.
The lights cut off, sending my heart swan diving into my stomach. I let out a strangled sound, plastering myself against a wall of lockers. I cover my mouth with my hand and try to adjust my eyes as fast as possible to the darkness.
Some jerk is messing around. That’s all, I tell myself. Horror movies aren’t real.
A shadow moves in front of me before I can pull out my phone to use as a flashlight and my skin crawls with an automatic fight-or-flight response. With the hair on my arms raised to attention, I hold my shaking fists in front of me, balled tight to throw a punch.
“Hello?” My voice cracks. “Who’s there? This isn’t funny.”
Taking my chances, I skirt the edge of the room and make a run for the door. The handle won’t budge.
“What?” I hiss, yanking on the locked handle. “Are you kidding me right now?”
My heart pounds in a heavy thud-thud-thud, clanging against my ribcage. Panicked, outlandish thoughts dash through my head. I’m going to be some mentally unstable whack job’s victim and make the news. I can see the lead-in now: cult member uses corpse of eighteen-year-old high school student, Gemma Turner, to paint Satanic symbols in the locker room at Silver Lake High School.
“Not today, Satan,” I whisper.
Someone grabs me and a yell erupts from my lungs. I fling my arms and legs in wild arcs as I’m lifted from the ground, throwing all of my strength into aiming a blow at the assailant.
“Satan will have to take a number,” Lucas rumbles against my ear. There’s a smile in his voice. “Caught you. Give me a kiss.”
It takes a second for my mind to connect the dots. A pathetic wheeze leaves me.
I kick one last time and thrust my elbow into his side. The angle’s wrong and it ends up as a glancing blow that makes him snicker.
Lucas sets me down. After whirling me around, he presses my back to the lockers, looming over me as he plays with my hair.
“Looks like we’re locked in here.”
I can only make out some of his features—the edge of his jaw, the sharp ridge of his nose, his brow bone. Even without seeing clearly, it’s simple to discern how amused he is.
“So get your buddies to let us out. I’m sure they’re all laughing it up outside the door. I’ve got photos to take for my assignment.”
“Hmm, no.” Lucas drags his nose over my cheek. “I have a few ideas for how we can pass the time. I told you the rules of this game.”
We’re locked in a stalemate. I have nowhere to go with Lucas trapping me against the locker. I try to shift and he moves his hands to my shoulders, keeping me where he wants me.
He takes my bag and sets it aside.
“I have you all to myself now.”
The deep quality of his voice promises dark delights if I give in at last.
Lucas traces my neck, giving it a light squeeze when he wraps his fingers around it.
“No catty retort today? Has my kitten lost all her bite?”
I bare my teeth as he slides his knee between mine, ruining my leverage to stomp on his foot when he kicks my legs further apart. Lucas trails his lips over my cheek, the soft touch at odds with his hold on my throat and his other hand sliding down to my waist.
He nips my cheek and I hit my head against the locker when I startle.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I protest, clenching the hem of my skirt at my sides in case he tries anything.
Lucas is so close that I can feel the vibration of his smug chuckle. It pulls a string in my stomach, unravelling a desire I have trouble fighting. His other hand explores my body, wrenching a few buttons open on my shirt to expose my collar bone.
Cool air hits the top of my breasts. When he grazes his nails over my bra, I clamp my legs around his thigh and growl.
“Lucas, back off.”
My hands fly to his wrist, trying to tug him off my neck. He won’t move, so I dig my nails into his skin.
“Why do you fight me so hard, sweetheart? If you keep that up, I won’t make it good for you. I’ll have to punish you for being bad.”
Those words should turn my stomach and piss me off. Instead, heat spirals down my spine and pulses between my legs. Lucas catches the slight hitch in my breath and his hot exhale ghosts over my lips.
“So that’s what you like, huh, baby?” He squeezes my neck harder, to the point it’s almost a challenge to breathe. I swallow and my throat moves against his hand. He can feel it. He presses his wicked grin into my cheek. “Oh, yeah. You like that. Is that what you’ve been wanting? I should throw you over my lap, flip that sexy skirt up and slap your ass until it’s raw and throbbing.”
Fuck. I don’t mean to squirm, but he moves his leg and it connects with my aching center. I grit my teeth and try to tamp down on the cry that threatens to tear out of me at the contact.
A rough noise leaves Lucas and his hand drops to my hip, directing me to repeat the same motion. Surrounded by darkness, the confusing desire he stirs in me is easier to embrace.
With my air caught in my throat, I give a tentative rock of my hips, grinding on his thigh.
I make a small whimper and he answers me with another growl.
I’m afraid to say anything. Reluctant to break this weird spell entrancing us. It makes me feel dirty, but it feels too good to stop.
“You get off on me hurting you. That’s why you haven’t given up.” He bends his head and sinks his teeth into the juncture of my shoulder and my hips jerk in response to the rush of sharp pain mixed with heady pleasure. Heat throbs in my clit. “I bet you’ve been dreaming up ways to piss me off. Antagonizing me so I can’t ignore you.”
I want to deny it. He’s the one terrorizing me. But I can’t find my voice. I can only gasp and rock against the pressure he gives me. His erection prods my stomach, the firmness weirdly fascinating.
“How many times have you wished I’d hunt you down, slide between your legs, push your underwear to the side, and fuck you until you screamed? Did you dream about it in class?”
“N…o—nngh.”
A pleased hum answers my attempt to deny everything he’s saying.
My breaths come out labored, his tight grip on my neck controlling how much air I get. A moan echoes in the locker room and I think it came from me. The pleasure builds, coiling in my gut and making my legs tremble as I ride Lucas’ firm thigh.
If we keep this up, I’m going to come.
“Gemma,” Lucas rumbles, his breath teasing my lips.
He’s leaning in to kiss me. He stops short and a frustrated sound almost escapes me. I bite it back at the last second, my hold on his wrist flexing.
It hits me like a breaking wave.
I want to kiss Lucas Saint right now. I need it.
I wait for it, straining against him. But his kiss doesn’t come. I blink my eyes open—I don’t remember closing them—and peer up at him in the dim light. My eyes have adjusted to see better. His face is barely illuminated, but the lust in his gaze is intense and I want to taste it.
Licking my lips, I tip my head up. He stares at me for another beat, and then in a rush his lips crash over mine in a hard kiss.
Lucas digs his fingers into my hip as we grind against each other. His tongue swipes over my lips, then presses into my mouth. I’m powerless against the harsh way he claims me. The kiss is even more addictive than the first time.
It’s like being dragged down by a strong undertow, overwhelming and rolling over my body with relentless force. There’s no escape, no choice but to hold my breath and ride it out.
My knees go weak. Does Lucas have to be so good at kissing? I’m not going to give him an award ribbon.
Every last scrap of my resistance falls away.
I’m lost to the rush. The rise of delicious heat pulls me close to the edge. I need more.
I must make a noise, because Lucas nips my lip and adjusts our position so I’m hiked up on my toes with my legs spread wide enough for my skirt to ride up indecently. He angles my body so that when his hips roll against me I can feel his cock pressing against my underwear. A hot flush moves over my whole body. A cry I’ve never made before gets stuck in my throat. It’s desperate, like a wild animal.
Lucas curls one hand around my thigh and drags it higher on his hip as he deepens the kiss. The hard ridge of his cock grinds perfectly against my throbbing clit. I think my underwear is probably soaked. An instinct calls to me, begging me to jump up and wrap my legs around his waist. My inner muscles clench as the ache demands more.
The darkness makes me braver. I give in to what I want and bury my hands in his hair to pull him closer.
“Fuck,” he bites out when he pulls back before recapturing my lips.
I’m nearly there. Small cries of need tear at my throat and I tighten my fist in his hair, thrilling at the way he hums into my mouth. I’m about to come. He flexes his grip on my neck and I rock my hips with more force.
So close, I just need—
Lucas rips away from me.
It takes a second for my brain to catch up with the moment. I pant and stumble for balance against the lockers. My skin prickles with heat and the cold metal of the lockers makes me shiver.
“What’s wrong?”
I’m breathless, my legs shaky and my vagina tingly from the almost-orgasm. I take a step forward. Lucas takes a step back and I halt.
My defenses fly back up and I collapse against the wall of lockers. It’s not because my legs feel like jelly, but I only tell myself that weak excuse to feel better about the mess of emotions fighting for my attention.
“Lucas?”
Intense desire fills his eyes. Instead of finishing what he started, he backs away into the shadows.
The click of the door reaches me and an indignant huff passes my swollen lips. I press my fingers against them. My body calls out for Lucas, my insides twisted and needy with the way he made me feel. After a beat, I re-button my shirt with hasty movements.
Of course it was another one of his mean pranks.
How could I not see it?
Worse, how could I kiss the guy who has been the champion of assholes to me? The guy who stole my first kiss and laughed about it?
The humiliation burns. I played right into his game.
I scrub my mouth with the back of my hand, ignoring the way it feels after kissing Lucas.
The only one to blame for this is yourself. Not your body. You gave in. You let it happen.
You wanted it, my mind supplies.
Why did I like everything he did? Is something wrong with me?
Releasing an angry breath, I close my eyes and touch my throat.
Fourteen
Lucas
Like the first crack in a wall, I’ve slipped through Gemma’s defenses.
I can feel it in the way her gaze tracks me in the days that follow the locker room encounter. It’s only a matter of time until she breaks. I’ve left her to stew. It was obvious how much she needed me to keep going when I pulled back and left her hanging on the cusp of orgasm.
One part of me reveled in the look that flashed across her face. I did that to her, broke down her high and mighty attitude until she was a shivering mess in my hands. Her surrender was beautiful.
Another part of me struggled to walk away. The lust on her face was like a siren’s call, drawing me back in to finish her off, to burn myself into her body so no one could satisfy her other than me.
I want her to come crawling to me.
Holding control over her is empty if she doesn’t want me to take charge by submitting to me. She’ll beg me to give her more.
There’s no way she’ll refuse me now. I’m in her head like she’s in mine. I don’t plan on leaving.
Now that I’ve tasted her, I need more of her perfect mouth and her sexy little sounds. Her fiery attitude and her stubbornness make her surrender that much sweeter. Gemma is an addiction. One that I might overdose on, because I need another hit.
My resistance lasts four days.
The plan to wait her out goes up in smoke.
Instead of Gemma muddling through seduction to get me to dick her down until tears of pleasure stream down her face, she does the opposite of what I expected.
The first inkling that something is wrong niggles at me as I pass Gemma at lunch.
She doesn’t pretend to avoid me only to secretly watch me, as she has in the last several days. She doesn’t jump into my arms, either. No, instead she meets my gaze head on as she exits the lunch line. There’s a self-assuredness in the tilt of her mouth, the determined furrow of her brow, and the brightness dancing in her eyes.
Gemma heads for the table she shares with her weird friend, confidence swinging in her steps. My attention falls to watch her ass. My palms tingle with the desire to touch that perfect ass again.
It’s not until the end of the day that I understand why she met me head on at lunch.
I walk out to my Jeep to grab my equipment bag for practice. The weather is nice today, bright and sunny, so I took my prized baby out to show her off rather than my usual ride.
Maybe I drank too much over the weekend or my head isn’t screwed on right today. But as I scan for the classic white Jeep Wrangler, discomfort crawls over my skin.
My Jeep is missing.
I swing my gaze back and forth in a faster sweep, searching for my car.
What the fuck? Where is it?
For a second, I can’t breathe. My heart pounds in my ears as my nerves spike with a nasty jitter.
“Where the fuck is my Jeep,” I snarl to myself, whipping around to look in the rows I’ve passed.
People call my name, trying to get my attention. Their words go in and out of my ear at the edge of my perception. The only thing I can focus on is killing the asswipe that stole my Jeep.
Rushing over to the spot I know I parked in, all I find where a white fucking 1990 Jeep should be is a square of paper. I rub my fingers together as I glare at the note. With a grumble, I retrieve it. I unfold it, accidentally tearing an edge with the force of my actions.
A smiley face drawn in black marker stares up at me.
My stomach twists, followed by a rising surge of outrage. It heats my skin as it builds. The paper shakes like a leaf in my clenched grip.
When I find out who did this, I’m going to kill them. They’re dead. This douchebag’s life is officially over as soon as I find them.
No one fucks with me or my Jeep.
I restored it piece by piece last year. The pride that blooms in my chest when I drive it around isn’t because I have a sweet ride—it’s because I rebuilt the classic myself. My sweat and blood went into it. Other than Lancelot, it’s the most important thing I own. Someone knew that and knew exactly how to cut me deepest.
A few guffaws echo around me and my glare snaps up. They’re asking for my fist in their face. Maybe they know or saw something. After I punch them for laughing, I’ll beat answers out of them.
It’ll feel good to burn off the angry energ
y surging through my body by punching the shit out of something. Better a face than a brick wall.
I snarl as I turn around and spot a couple of stoners toking up on the hood of a car. They give me lazy smiles and hold up lopsided peace signs.
“Did you see the Jeep that was parked here?” I hardly recognize my voice as I stalk up to them.
“Hell yeah, man. Sweet ass ride,” one says, his eyelids drooping.
“Did you see where it went,” I force out through my teeth, enunciating harshly.
The other stoner shrugs and scratches the beanie swallowing his head.
“It was like magic, dude. One second it was there and the next it was rolling away.”
My head cocks and I blink. As I form a fist, my knuckles crack. I grab the closer one by the lapel of his school jacket, the fabric bunching as I yank him closer.
“Details. Now.” I do nothing to stop the crazed stretch of my mouth that makes the stoner’s eyes widen. “Talk fast.”
“I don’t know, man! It was hilarious though.”
The wheezing amusement breaks off into choked coughs when I give him a rough shake.
“If you don’t want me to smash your face, you’re going to tell me where the fuck my Jeep went!”
“Chill, man,” says the other stoner. He scrambles to pull out a phone and tosses it to me. “Look. See, it’s sick, right?”
I catch the phone one-handed, earning a drawn out ooh from their appreciation of my dexterity.
Before I look at the phone, Devlin and Bishop jog up to me. They’re in their practice jerseys and soccer cleats.
“Lucas,” Devlin snaps. “You need to get to the football field now.”
I don’t have the patience to parse the pinched expression on his face. Bishop looks antsy, which is weird for him. With a feral growl, I release the stoner and follow my friends.
I toss a look at my empty parking space.
“My phone, man!”
Rolling my eyes, I throw it at the guy. He yelps as it clatters to the ground. I don’t give a shit if the screen cracked. Not my fucking problem.
“Now, Lucas! I’m serious.”