Mayhem at Prescott High

by Stunich, C. M.

  “What can I say?” Vic purrs, putting a palm on either side of me and leaning in so that I can smell him. He smells like fresh sweat, and Scotch, and cigarette smoke, and I'm absolutely living for it. Getting married at seventeen, in all reality, is dumb as fuck. Like, I'd make fun of anyone else for doing it. But, this is me and Vic and Havoc, and it just works. “I like your cunt. I like filling you with my seed. I'm primal and stupid and horny. Wanna try to tame me, Bernadette?”

  I give him a dark look.

  We both know Vic can never be tamed.

  “I don't know, Victor. When you find your balls, let me know. Because I'm pretty sure I stole them in the last few weeks.” He chuckles, pushing his face up against the side of my throat and grazing my tender skin with his teeth.

  “Do not mistake my being nice to you as anything but that: a favor. It is not submission. It never will be.” I reach up and grab him by the hair, and he returns the gesture, doing the same to me. Unfortunately, I'm the one who lets out a gasp first.

  Asshole.

  “Suck me off, so I can kiss you and taste my cum on your lips.”

  “I hate you,” I whisper back at him, but when he slants his mouth to mine and kisses me, all I can taste is his carnal appetite, endless and yawning like a chasm, insatiable. And yet, I want nothing more than to try my very best to fill it.

  Victor's tongue sweeps mine, a hot fury that soon takes over my conscious mind. I blame it on the magic of the honeymoon, but really, it's just us. Me and him. We are sin incarnate, and we both know it. My legs spread of their own accord, but thankfully, when Vic starts to undulate his hips against me, we have the sheet to protect us. Doesn't stop him from putting the very tip in, but the fabric's in our way and he ends up cursing and growling against my mouth.

  “This is what I was talking about,” I murmur against his lips. With a string of colorful curses, Vic sits up and rakes his fingers through his hair. His pupils are so dilated that his irises look entirely black. In reality, they're a very dark brown, but it's impossible to see the color without a whole lot of light. “Now, get on your back.”

  He gives a derisive snort, and I scowl.

  “Nah, how about you get on your knees for me?” he asks, cocking a brow as he stands up and yanks me to my feet. I try to keep the sheets with me, but end up tripping over them and falling into his tattooed arms. His grandmother's ring sparkles on my finger as I curl my hand around his bicep.

  See what I mean?

  Give and take.

  We are not willing to accept equality. One of us always wants to be in charge. Like last night, when I rode his ass into the mattress until I was satisfied.

  Vic slides his fingers into my hair and kisses me again, working his mouth against mine until I'm making sounds that are most definitely finding their way out the open balcony door and into the ears of Havoc’s remaining members.

  At least the girls are at breakfast with Aaron and Callum.

  And no part of me is concerned about that; they couldn't be safer.

  My knees feel weak as Victor massages the back of my head with his inked fingers, encouraging me to let down the seemingly infinite number of shields around my heart. He breaks them into pieces, with every kiss, every look, every touch. He spirits my numbness away, leaves me vulnerable and aching.

  I want to please him, and I hate myself for that.

  But not as much as I love him.

  “I hate you,” I murmur again, but he just grins against my mouth, giving me one, last punishing kiss before I slide my palms down the length of his beautiful body and drop to the floor. My left hand, the one with my still-fresh HAVOC tattoo, encircles the base of his cock, squeezing until I get a satisfying groan to pass through those wicked lips of his.

  “Hate me while I’m loving you,” he says as he lets his head fall back, resting his big palms on the top of my head. For a moment there, I almost believe Victor’s being nice. He shatters that notion pretty quick. “Hate me while your mouth is wrapped around my cock.” His fingers tighten in my hair, encouraging me to take him between my lips.

  I let him guide me there, let him push as much of himself into my mouth as I can take. It takes both my fist and my mouth to hold all of him and even then, it’s a challenge. My stomach muscles tighten with anticipation as I move back, swirling my tongue around the tip of Victor’s cock and tasting both his cum and my own honey. The combination of the two is intoxicating, amplifying the slight buzz in my head from the Scotch and a morning filled with orgasms.

  My head bobs a few times, just to work up some friction. Then I draw back, running my tongue along the underside of his dick, down to his balls. I tease the seam with my tongue as my eyes lift up to find Vic’s face. His head is thrown back in bliss, lips parted, fingers massaging my scalp.

  He’s completely open to me right now, drowning in reckless abandon.

  I could probably kill him, if I really wanted to. Is that a strange thought to have? Regardless, it brings me a perverse sense of pleasure. I’m on my knees, but he’s the one who’s vulnerable right now. When I slide my mouth over the length of him again, Vic’s hips thrust in response, driving deep into my throat. I keep my hand in place to control him, drawing back and then squeezing hard with my fingers. Using my saliva as lube, I draw my fist along him until I reach the end of his shaft, and then I let go. He lets out a little growl, but I quickly grab him at the base again. Over and over, I repeat that motion, like I’m milking him.

  “Mouth,” he snarls, yanking my head back to his cock. Vic thrusts between my lips, and I groan, shifting in place. I’m soaking wet again. Well, I never really stopped being wet. That’s how my last three days have been. Since we walked away from the decrepit ruin of Victor’s grandmother’s house, we’ve been fucking nonstop.

  We are addicted to each other’s venom.

  No doubt about that.

  I start to hum, a trick that I learned, aptly enough, from the halls of Prescott High. Nobody knows how to give a better hummer than a girl from the southside. The vibrations in my throat travel through my tongue and into Vic, the world’s most perverted song.

  “Right there, princess,” he groans, his fingers tightening their hold on my head. I place my right palm against his lower abs, feeling the rock-hard muscles clench as a powerful climax digs its claws into him. When I try to pull back—to correct his usage of the word princess—he thrusts forward with a violent groan, spilling hot, salty seed across my tongue.

  I swallow and draw back, swiping my arm across my lips. When I turn a poisonous glare up to Vic, I find him grinning down at me, clearly satisfied and smug and annoying as shit.

  “Princess?” I ask as he offers me a hand, yanking me to my feet and tucking my naked body against the front of his. “There is no princess in chess. Call me queen or find a new nickname altogether.”

  “How does cupcake sound?” he asks, laughing at the scowl on my face.

  “Glad you find it funny. How about we make it serious?” I quip as Victor catches my much smaller hands between his larger ones. Seeing our newly slashed palms pressed together, HAVOC tattoos intertwined, dulls my anger. But just a little. “Don’t make me cut you, Victor Channing.”

  “Get dressed, my queen,” he says, looking at me for the briefest of moments with pure tenderness in his expression. He closes his eyes, as if to regain his composure. When he opens them, they’re sharp with cunning and thick with violence. “We have a big day ahead of us, after all.” He releases me and turns to head for the shower, dropping the robe with—likely—the sole purpose of flashing me that muscular ass of his.

  Dick.

  Then again, when I close my eyes, I can hear his wedding vows in my head. The words were whispered softly against my ear as he moved inside of me with deep, slow strokes, loving and rife with romantic intent.

  “Bernadette, you are the driving force behind everything I do. You always have been. I can’t thank you enough for that. Without you, I wouldn’t have had a reason. A re
ason to live. A reason to fight. A reason to succeed. You’re the oxygen in my blood and the electricity that makes my heart beat.”

  My cheeks flush as I shake my hands out.

  There’s a reason Victor didn’t want to say his vows aloud at the wedding.

  They were meant for me and me alone.

  But … are mine supposed to stay secret?

  Because I’m not certain that I’m meant for him and him alone.

  “Callum scared the fuck out of some kids at the aquarium,” Aaron says, pulling into the parking lot that edges the beach. It’s winter in Oregon, so not ideal beach-going weather, but then, it never really is. Saying beach is a bit misleading; coast would be more appropriate. The water is always too cold to swim in, but on a warm day, you can enjoy the surf teasing your ankles.

  It’s sunny out and we’re renting dune buggies. I’ve never done that before, despite the fact that Newport is a mere two hours from Springfield, an easy getaway spot for local families. Pamela has never taken me anywhere. I hear talk that Penelope and I went to Disney World once when I was three. But then, I have no memory of that, so does it matter? Besides, if I had to make a bet, I’d say my dad was responsible for such a trip.

  Pam just isn’t the type to take two little girls on a kiddie vacation.

  Anyway, renting a dune buggy for eight hundred bucks a day is such a Fuller High thing to do. Oak Valley brats probably own the company that manufactures the fucking things. Prescott kids … usually just steal them.

  “How so?” I ask, raising a brow as I glance over my shoulder at the girls. They’re strapped into the bench seat together, with Heather in the middle. Victor looked like he was going to burst a vein in his neck when I told him I was riding in the Bronco with Aaron. But then he looked at Heather, her eyes narrowed, mouth turned down in a deep frown, and he knew he had little choice.

  If my little sister doesn’t like Vic, we’re going to have problems.

  “He hid behind the shark tank and leapt out!” Heather explains, her green eyes lighting up with joy. “We thought it was funny, but he made a little girl cry.” She grins big, but then her smile fades and she narrows her eyes at me. “You would’ve seen it if you’d been at the aquarium. Aren’t you and Vic bored in the hotel room all day?”

  “I, uh,” I start, trying to wonder how I ended up essentially becoming the parent to an eight-year-old. “We’re on our honeymoon, Heather.” She wrinkles her nose at me and leans over to whisper something in Kara’s ear. They both giggle as they stare back at me, and I raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to fill me in on what’s going on?” I ask as Aaron chuckles and shuts the Bronco’s engine off.

  “All I said was that you were probably kissing all over each other,” Heather quips, giving me this sassy little look that reminds me of, well, me. She really thinks she’s figured me and Vic out. God help her that she doesn’t ever understand us. I want her to spend her life with someone … normal. Painfully normal, really.

  “Oh, you guessed it,” I say, and all three girls groan and roll their eyes as I open the door and hop out onto the sand-covered pavement. The wind swirls my hair around my face as I stare out at the nearly-empty beach with a peaceful sigh.

  This is what we all needed: normalcy.

  “There’s certainly a lot of sand here,” Oscar says, sitting on the hood of the Camaro in a black t-shirt and long, dark shorts. It’s so weird to see him wear anything but a suit; it always catches me off-guard. Remember how you saw him naked and vulnerable above you? How he made love to you and then ran off like a colossal prick? Did that catch ya off-guard, too, Bernie?

  The girls take off past me, squealing and kicking off their shoes as Aaron struggles to keep up with them, yelling warnings about staying away from the water. I turn to Oscar with an angry fire burning in my belly.

  “Yeah, it’s a beach,” I snap, drawing his attention around and over to me. It’s only been nine days since we ruined Aaron’s couch together; it feels like a fucking lifetime. And yet, I’m still furious over the whole situation. I know we’re both trying to pretend it didn’t happen, but I only know my own motivations for doing that: I’m embarrassed. That was an intimate moment to share with someone, and Oscar ruined it for me by running off and refusing to tell me what was wrong. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? Because you sound fucking stupid right now.”

  Oscar scowls at me, breaking that placid asshole look he enjoys wearing as a mask on his handsome face. I feel a spark inside at his expression though. I mean, it’s proof that he’s feeling something, right?

  “You’re a cunt, Bernadette Blackbird. I’m assuming you’re aware of that?” he snaps back at me as Vic’s bike pulls up alongside the Camaro. Victor doesn’t hear what Oscar said to me, but as soon as he climbs off the Harley, he’s side-eying the both of us.

  “Do I need to intervene in this shit?” he asks as he studies the pair of us with a look that’s one-part amusement, two-parts jealousy. “You two need to work through your crap, or we aren’t going to survive the rest of the school year.” Victor stands between us in holey jeans and a tight t-shirt that says Fuck You on the front of it. Very subtle. Add in his large statue, muscles, and ink, and he gets gawked at wherever he goes. I thought security might tackle him on his way out of the hotel this morning.

  “We have nothing to work out,” Oscar lies, his tongue as slick as a snake’s. He slides off the hood and stands up, iPad tucked under his arm as per usual. Bet you wouldn’t leave your precious tablet alone on her period after coming inside of her, you nightmare of a man. “All is business as usual. We’re running nearly fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.”

  “Nothing to work out?” I echo and Victor groans, sliding his hand over his face. “You bloodied your dick and ran, Oscar. I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  The way he looks at me, I’ve never been more certain that I was looking in the eyes of a person who was intent on committing murder. Hopefully, just not mine. Maybe he’s thinking of Mitch Charter or something?

  After all, we left Prescott High a mess.

  We left them cheering our destruction in the hallways.

  We left a missing and bloodied Havoc Crew.

  We left Kali’s smirking face and Billie’s whispered quips.

  My fists clench at my sides and I force myself to take a deep breath.

  “Ah, yes,” Oscar says as Vic scowls, clearly annoyed at having to discuss me fucking other guys on his honeymoon. Yet another atomic bomb waiting to explode and wash us all in emotional fallout: Vic seemed to be under the impression that I wouldn’t be having sex with anyone else after the wedding. “That’s right: you’re the type that gets emotional about sex.” He looks me straight in the face, but I can’t read anything in those gray eyes of his. The light catches on the lenses of his glasses, further shielding him from my scrutiny. “But rest assured, Mrs. Channing, that it meant nothing to me; I’ve already forgotten.”

  Liar.

  The word sings in my mind, bright and clear and sharp.

  I narrow my eyes, but I don’t get the chance to respond because Vic does it for me.

  “I told you that things would change after Bernadette and I were married.” Victor’s words are low and dark, drawing Oscar’s attention in an instant. “I meant it. This is your warning, Oscar. Don’t make me follow through with a threat.”

  Oscar’s face darkens and tightens up as he returns Victor’s stare, all the while desperately trying to maintain his stoicism. He’s acting like this situation doesn’t bother him, but it’s breaking him into pieces. It’s written in the tense lines of his body, in the shape of his mouth, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the tablet in stern claws by his side.

  “Understood, boss.” His eyes flick my direction as he reaches up a tatted middle finger to push his glasses up his nose. “My apologies, Mrs. Channing. All I meant was that you needn’t worry about what happened between us on the couch ever happening again.” He smiles at me, and but hi
s expression is hot with anger, and his lips are as sharp as a dagger.

  I feel my spirit puncture and start to bleed from the attack.

  “You're forgiven for today's transgressions, Montauk,” I purr back at him, stepping so close that when I pull in a breath, I smell cinnamon instead of salt water and sand. Oscar's stone-still in front of me, like he's managed to wrestle all those demons inside of him back into their cage. Impressive. “But you are not forgiven for fucking me on my period and running. You owe me an explanation.”

  “I owe you nothing,” he breathes back, moving around me and taking off down the hill toward the picnic table where Hael and Callum are waiting. I watch him go, seething on the inside and wishing him ill with every subsequent breath.

  “Jesus Christ, you two are going to put me in an early grave,” Victor grumbles, taking off down the path with the obvious intent that I follow after. With a sigh, I do, because as mad as I am at Oscar, I'm all-in for a life with Havoc.

  What has been done cannot be undone.

  My contract is signed and sealed in my blood; my fingers are stamped with ink; my heart is fractured into five fragments. No matter how much I wish it weren't, one of those pieces belongs to Oscar Montauk. Always has.

  Like I said when he was pushing me down onto the couch, “Since elementary school.”

  He let me cheat off his tests in sixth grade; he told me he was allergic to apples, so I’d take his from him, so I always had some extra food to bring home in case Pamela forgot to feed me. How can I forget those things? How can I forget that when I asked if he were in love with me, his response was, “You're bleeding.”

  Gah!

  I kick the sand and run the fingers of both hands through my hair to shake out the pink-tipped blond strands. I'm going to kill that cocksucker before we graduate if he doesn't start opening up to me, I swear to fuck.

  “I hear you terrified some young children at the aquarium?” I ask Callum, trying to force a smile as I saunter up to the table next to him and Hael. The latter is already shirtless, basking in the sun and grinning like a man who's just escaped the noose. I mean, Brittany as a baby mama would've been rough, I'll grant him that. He deserves to smile, but only a little seeing as the bitch just broke her Havoc price.