“That’s it, baby.”
Lucas’ voice is barely recognizable as he loses himself in the throes of his own oblivion. The noise he muffles against my neck becomes a groan as his hips stutter and he drives his cock deep inside me.
For a minute, we’re both still save for our panting as we try to catch our breath. The come down from having sex is ricocheting through my body. A soft sound escapes me and I hug his neck.
Lucas envelopes me in his embrace. He rolls to his side, bringing me with him. His cock slips out, which is a weird sensation, but I don’t focus on it as he trails lazy kisses across my cheek.
“You were perfect,” he mumbles in a sleepy voice.
He gets up to discard the condom, burying it in the trash basket by my desk.
I sit up and draw my knees to my chest. My vagina aches with an emptiness.
An odd vulnerability slips over me. “Stay a while?”
“Yeah.”
Lucas returns to bed and pets my hair. He kisses my forehead and lays down, pulling me half on top of him.
It’s nice, laying like this. He’s sweet with me, massaging my shoulders and caressing my leg. It’s unexpected how attentive he is, but it puts me at ease.
* * *
Lucas is still there when I come out of a content doze. I don’t know how long I was out for, but he’s asleep, too. With a soft smile, I get up to grab the throw blanket from the bottom of the bed and cover us with it as I snuggle against his side. In his sleep, he wraps his arms around me, holding me tight.
The next time I wake up, my room is dark and Lucas is gone. I have a t-shirt on and I’m beneath the covers. No underwear, though. I rub my eyes and check my phone. 3:42am.
There’s a text from Lucas from after midnight.
He sent it with a picture of himself, the same open expression on his face from when he told me he wants to be an architect.
Lucas: Dream of me, sweetheart.
Twenty-Seven
Gemma
The weekend was a dream. Lucas texted me half-sweet-half-dirty one-liners on Sunday and selfies with Lancelot from a solo ride on the boat.
I’m riding on a giddy high, feeling like I can move on from my past and start on a fresh page.
But once I arrive at school everything crumbles to dust between my fingers.
I’m struck with confused mixed emotions. Should I expect things to change?
Are we dating?
Lucas and I didn’t hash that out. I forgot to ask between our low-key flirty sexting rapport.
But sex means I’m his girlfriend, I think. He did say in that possessive gruff voice that I was his. I hope that means he’s mine, too.
Walking through the parking lot with Alec carries a different connotation now. People that offer him high fives also greet me and ask to make plans to hang out. It leaves me on edge, tasting the crackle of something off in the air.
It’s exactly what I told Alec would happen—the same dickheads that bullied me would flip their tune and act chummy towards me after I became Lucas’ girlfriend. Officially.
It makes me uncomfortable.
We find Lucas and the others gathered around Devlin’s shiny red sports car.
“Yeah, I wanted to get one last ride out of her for the season,” Devlin says to one of the girls hanging around with skirts way shorter than dress code regulation. He winks at her. “They’re calling for an early snowstorm. Will you come keep me warm? We can get snowed in and ice skate on the lake.”
The girl coos with her friends. Two of them stand close to Lucas.
“We’ll make a party out of it,” Lucas adds, slinging an arm around the one on the left with bright red lipstick. “Blizzard Bash. That’s what we’ll call it. Start a hashtag.”
Carter whoops.
Alec and I approach. I hang back a bit. Lucas’ attention passes right over me. He doesn’t welcome me with open arms like I’m his girlfriend or sling hatred at me.
It’s like I’m invisible.
Wonderful. It’s what I wanted all along. To be ignored and fly under the social radar.
And now I no longer need that.
“Hey man,” Lucas greets, bumping fists with Alec.
“‘Sup.” Alec nods to the rest of the group. “What’s this about a snowed in party? I’m down.”
“I’m hoping we get a snow day,” says one of the short skirts, twirling her hair as she leans into Lucas’ side.
“We’ll get drunk as fuck and go sledding.” Lucas gives everyone a lazy grin as they cheer for his suggestion. “And a snowball tourney.” He tips a salacious leer at the girl he has his arm around. “Hot toddies and hot tub time.”
Devlin waggles his eyebrows and blows a kiss to the girl he was flirting with over his car. “My kind of party.”
My lip curls. What the hell is this?
The Lucas Saint that visited my room on Saturday and told me about Oak Ridge College of the Arts and this douche are not the same people. The mask he wears at school is back in place. I was silly to think what we shared would make him change around his friends.
Lucas is still toying with me, happy to play possessive, but afraid to commit to more. I’m not having it.
“Count me out.” I wrap my arms around myself. “I’m more of a movie marathon under a blanket sort of person during a snowstorm.”
Lucas lifts a brow and cocks his head to the side.
“Suit yourself. I guess I’ll need to find a few new cuddling partners. What about you, darling?” He addresses the girl batting her eyelashes at him as she presses her breasts into his side. “Yeah, you’re down to keep me company, right?”
I bristle, gnashing my teeth. Lucas ignores the daggers I shoot his way.
“Of course, Lucas.”
I almost gag at her breathy tone. Jesus. This is a school parking lot, not the set of a porno production.
You’d never know the difference with the syrup in her tone.
Lucas chuckles and walks off with his cohorts in tow, keeping his arm around the flirt’s shoulders. I stay back from the group as they head for the steps to school.
Alec darts a concerned glance my way, but I ignore him.
Whipping out my phone, I let Lucas know that won’t fly with me.
Gemma: What was that?
It doesn’t take long for his response, my phone buzzing as I trudge to my locker.
Lucas: What?
Gemma: ??? Bimbo 1 and Bimbo 2 hanging on your arm? The cuddling? Sorry if I don’t like parties, but don’t think you can be a fucking manwhore and I’ll be cool with it.
Lucas: Chill out, that’s not what was happening. I was playing wingman. I can’t help it if chicks flock to me. You’ll have to deal.
My eyebrows fly up. This fucker…
Gemma: Don’t act like you weren’t eating up the attention. I won’t be yours if it’s a one way road.
Lucas: You are mine. It’s cute you’re jealous.
“Ugh!”
A few people glance at me curiously. I duck my head as I fume.
I don’t like the fake Lucas he presents to everyone else. I thought he was letting me in, showing me he was someone else past all the bullshit. I can’t get a read on him like this other than the neon sign declaring him a giant asshole.
* * *
Despite my anger in the morning, I take a seat next to Lucas on autopilot during lunch. Blair isn’t in school today and I’m feeling stranded at sea amongst ruthless sharks. Blending in is better than painting a target on my back by sitting away from Lucas.
Everyone at the table looks at me like they know something I don’t. There’s that same sickening hunger for blood dancing in their gazes. It grates on my senses, like they’re sticking me with needles to dissect me.
I’ve been on my guard ever since the start of school. Almost two months of daily heckling, lewd jokes, and stupid tricks aren’t erased by an open conversation and the passion Lucas and I shared. It’s a sharp contrast to the lackluster greeting this morn
ing and our argument after.
Lucas is lost in a conversation with Carter about what they’ll do if the playoff game this week is rescheduled. They gesture with their hands as they discuss the possibilities.
It’s more of the fake Lucas. I can tell and he hasn’t even addressed me yet.
The tight lines of tension around his eyes give it away. Those creases drop away when we’re alone.
I wish I sat at my old table by the window. The other people at school have all been nice today, but I feel the chill in the air here. There’s something coming. Anticipation is a live wire running a current down my spine.
I zone back into the conversation when I realize they’ve stopped talking about football. The topic changed to something I never wanted to hear Lucas talking about so brazenly in school.
Lucas fidgets, tugging on his ear. “Nah, man, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“You do, though,” someone down the table says.
“It’s for real. Lucas finally won the bet to fuck our resident prude. He really did, look,” Carter boasts to Devlin, offering his phone. “Check this master with his after sex selfie.”
Ice encases me from head to toe. What?
Carter’s eyes flick to me as I sit rigidly beside Lucas.
Devlin does the same, his brows creasing. “You need to hit the gym, bro.”
Lucas swats across the table for him. “Shut up, I lift plenty in the weight room.”
The lemmings all laugh as I stew in humiliation. This has to be some nightmare.
“Can I see?” I swallow when they all turn their attention to me. It’s like they forgot I was there. I clear my throat and fiddle with my fork. “I want to see it.”
I set my jaw as Lucas lays his hand over the back of my neck, pinching to keep me complacent.
“You know what happened this weekend, sweetheart.” His tone is light, but the warning is clear.
Oh, Lucas doesn’t want me to see? I shoot him a mutinous glance. Too fucking bad.
If I’m going to be degraded, I’ll damn well witness just how badly Lucas betrayed my trust. The ice capsule around me cracks with fissures. They see my brave face, but inside I’m screaming at the top of my lungs.
“Do I? I think I need photographic evidence as a reminder. I don’t think it was that memorable without a little souvenir. You apparently thought so, too.”
Lucas’ eyes bounce between mine, shadowed with the danger my instincts predicted. His jaw clenches and he holds up his hands.
“Do what you want.”
A glacial river floods my veins, crystalizing the blood flow as Devlin slides Carter’s phone across to me with a frown.
Carter: Bro, where u at, I got tix for DJ Smokescrn tonight. U in?
Lucas: Bit busy here. [Fist emoji]
Carter: Right on, brother!!! [100 emoji] Finally plugged that whiny bitch up good with a sausage. Did she cry?
The conversation ends there. The words waver as my eyes blur with unshed tears. The sting slices me deep as I see what Lucas has done.
Lucas sent Carter a photo of us. We’re in my bed. It’s clear he’s still naked as I sleep on his bare chest. I’m what keeps him modest in the photo, but the curve of my ass is visible at the bottom edge of the frame.
There’s no question about how we got that way.
Carter slaps a wad of cash on the table. Several other people do the same. Devlin holds my wild gaze, frowning as he slips money from his wallet and adds it in.
Lucas lets out a forced bark of laughter that grates in my ears. I want to slap my hands over them to push everything out. Then slap him. Hard.
At first I don’t understand, like I’ve watched a wreck happen from the sidelines. My mind is still lagging at the text message, unable to process what’s going on here. When it clicks, my vision swims with dizziness and it takes a minute for me to realize that brittle wheezing noise is me struggling for air.
The doubt from earlier turns my insides to sludge as money exchanges hands.
“Pose with your winnings, dude,” Carter instructs, holding up his phone. “I’m putting this in my Insta story. Hashtag playa gonna play.”
Fissures spread across my heart like a frozen lake cracking, each new break audible only to me. People see me as this tough girl persona. They don’t think they can hurt me because I don’t let them.
But it hurts. It hurts so much.
Lucas made me believe he wanted me.
That was a lie.
None of his actions were sincere. I meant nothing to him. Just a bet to win for bragging rights.
All Lucas wanted with me was to use me.
Each new truth stabs a different point of my body, that cold dissection tray flaying me open for the world to see how gullible I was and how easy it was to shatter me.
I’m so angry at myself for falling for his tempting empty words after all the shit he put me through. Lucas is the worst kind of snake in the grass, his venom activating only when it will have the most lethal effect.
I’m a trophy to Lucas after all. A conquest and nothing more.
The hunter caught his prey and the game is over.
I jump when Lucas wraps his arm around my shoulder. My insides crawl as his lips graze my cheek.
“I was just a bet to you?” They go silent at the unbridled tone, my voice coarse and severe.
Deny it, I beg in my mind. Be my Lucas. Tell me it’s not real.
“It was just for fun, sweetheart,” Lucas mutters in a soothing tone. For everyone else’s benefit he goes on. “It doesn’t mean anything. Just guys being guys.”
Too little too damn late, Lucas.
The anger and pain morph together to create a horrible torrent inside my chest.
“Guys being guys,” I mutter. “Right.”
Time to tap out. I can’t sit through the rest of the period with him. I don’t want to be near him another second.
As he receives praise for his success, I shove away from him with a grunt. In my scramble to get up from the table I trip, smacking into the linoleum.
A hush falls over the room. The vultures smell fresh meat to feast on. Here comes the lamb for sacrifice, hand delivered by their golden Saint.
My knee throbs as I drag myself up, scrubbing at my burning eyes. The ache runs deeper than a bruised knee.
My pride. My trust. My heart.
All of them bruised by Lucas and the brutal way he toyed with me.
“Gemma?” Lucas holds a hand out to me, hard lines etched on his face. There’s a crack in his mask, but he won’t let it fall. Through the crack, there’s a hint of regret. Guilt, even. It’s not enough. “Are you okay?”
How could I be?
“Yes,” I snarl, turning a glower on him. His jaw tightens. “Leave me alone.”
My feet carry me from the cafeteria. Each painful breath leaves my throat raw, like the scrape of nails slicing me open. I run for the bathroom.
It’s empty. Small mercies.
I run the faucet and hold on to the sink with a white-knuckled grip.
I knew better. I should never have let myself get drawn into Lucas Saint’s world. I can’t fit myself in with the crowd.
It’s better to watch from the outside. It protects me and my heart.
I bend down and splash cool water on my blotchy face. I look like hell in the mirror. The loose strands of my braid are wet, my eyes bloodshot, and my nose running.
Worst of all is the same betrayed look in my eyes from when I was sixteen.
I called it when I wrote those words on Lucas’ windshield to get him back for everything.
Beautiful destroyer. That’s what Lucas is. A plague on the heart, out for destruction for his own sick mind games.
Twenty-Eight
Lucas
Gemma isn’t around the rest of the day.
When I chased her out of the cafeteria, she disappeared too fast for me to follow.
I didn’t think Carter would need to be told not to spread the photo around.
Things got out of control.
Once the topic came up, I didn’t know how to shut it down. It’s not something I’ve ever done before. My mask was slipping and it was a challenge to keep it from falling.
Laughing with my friends at lunch was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It didn’t feel good at Gemma’s expense, not the way I’d fantasized about at the start of the year.
The tension hasn’t left me since lunch.
It was stupid to think I could keep Gemma and my mask. The two don’t go together. She sees through it.
I need a way to fix this. But I can’t figure out how to explain to Gemma how things have changed since I set this in motion.
Scraping my fingers through my hair in last period, I send another text. Gemma has ignored all of my messages today. And she blocked me on her Instagram. I found that out when I went on to send her a DM.
Lucas: Babe, talk to me. Can I see you before practice?
I’m ready to cut out of class early to find her. God only knows what’s going on in her head.
I sit up when three gray dots appear on the screen. They disappear and return twice. I tug on my earlobe as I wait for her response.
At the front of the room, my english teacher pauses her lesson to squint at me. I slouch in my desk in the back row and put the phone on my lap so she doesn’t take it from me. She tips her chin up and keeps talking about nouns or analogies or whatever.
I tune the lesson out as I will Gemma to answer me.
At several long minutes, my phone vibrates on my thigh.
Gemma: Get one of your other girls to suck your dick today. Not feeling it. The others can have you.
My brow wrinkles. Other girls? Is this about those Coyote Girls from the parking lot this morning?
I grit my teeth. Damn it. That meant nothing. It was me being a wingman to Devlin. He was itching to get laid.
Wicked Saint: Sinners and Saints Book 1 Page 19