Sins at St Joseph's Academy: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (The Fallen Book 1)

by MV Ellis

  I lower my mouth to her neck and speak into it. Almost touching, but not quite.

  “You don’t need to scream, unless it’s when you’re riding my dick.” Awareness pulses through my body as I feel her react to me. She doesn’t say anything, at least not in words, anyway. She doesn’t have to—the heat between us, and the way her body hums against mine, speaks a thousand words.

  She moves forward and makes to walk away, but I don’t budge, so now we’re jammed against each other again. No complaints about that from me. In fact, I love the way I can feel her racing heartbeat banging against my chest.

  “Zeph, you said I could go.” She pushes against me with both palms flat against my pecs. Big mistake. Huge. The zing of arousal that sparks between us at her touch has us both gasping.

  “And you can. On one condition.”

  “What? I’m tired, and I want to go home.” She sounds weary, and wary, and a little defeated. For a moment, I’m struck with a small pang of guilt before quickly pushing it aside. Fuck that shit.

  “The condition is that you look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t want me. That you haven’t wanted me since day one. Tell me that you weren’t turned on by what you saw in the bathroom tonight. Tell me that, all of that, and I’ll back off. For good. But don’t fucking lie to me, because I will know.”

  As much as I want to stay sandwiched against her with my boner pressing into her, I step back a little more. I need to be able to see her face when she responds.

  She looks me dead in the eye, unwavering. She’s stronger than I originally gave her credit for, that’s for sure.

  “Asshole.” She hisses the word like it’s poison on her tongue.

  “You won’t hear any arguments from me, but I’m not in it for you to like me. Just say you don’t want me and we’re done here.”

  She stares at me as though I’m the Devil, and she’s not necessarily wrong. What she doesn’t do is speak. Or move. Or blink. Or breathe.

  “Yeah, thought so.”

  I catch her flying hand at the wrist way before it connects with my face, and slam her arm against the wall behind her head, repeating the procedure with the other hand before she even has a chance to think about raising it. She pushes against me, but I lean forward, pressing into her with more of my bodyweight.

  When my lips crash down against hers, it’s like doing a fire walk over the surface of the sun. Every fiber, every atom of my body, is alight with feeling. The rise and fall of her chest brands me every time her skin brushes mine, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Our connection is pure fire.

  We tear at each other’s mouths with the ferocity of wild animals—her deer to my jaguar. She may be the hunted prey, but she’s not giving up without a fight. She continues to push against my hands, and I lean even harder into her. We’re so close together, I swear I can feel the blood coursing through her veins. She battles me with her tongue and teeth, raking across my tongue, probing my gums, and finally, biting down hard on my lip.

  It hurts like a motherfucker, but it’s the most satisfying and torturous pain I’ve ever been in, and as soon as it eases slightly, I crave more. My dick has been rock hard from the moment I walked into the room—actually, before that, since I came inside the blonde, only to lock eyes with Blake as she gawked at us—but now it’s threatening either to snap in half or to burst through the tough fabric and metal zipper of my jeans.

  “Do that again,” I pant into her mouth.

  She obliges by not only chomping down again, but harder this time. My dick throbs even more intensely to match.

  I let go of her hands, not because I want to give her freedom or options, but because I know she’ll try to use them against me in some way, and I’m one-hundred-percent into the idea. Plus, I need her to be less clothed and more wrapped around my dick, stat, and I’m going to have to use my hands to make that happen.

  I place a palm back on her neck and squeeze. I love the way we fit together like a puzzle—holding her throat in my hand feels as natural to me as breathing. With the free hand I reach for the zipper of her tight jeans, wishing she’d worn a skirt for easier access. I drag them quickly down, grazing the inside of her leg with the nail of my index finger at the same time.

  Her body bucks to my touch and my dick begs for mercy. Patience isn’t my thing, but Blake is severely testing what little I do have. It takes all my willpower not to tear off her panties in one harsh yank of the hand and quickly do what my entire body is screaming for.

  Instead, I find the edge of the delicate fabric between her legs, and follow the trail to her sweet spot. I quickly kick my knee into the gap in her thighs, then forward and up, taking her leg with me to give me better access. Then, without warm-up or warning, I roughly shove two fingers hard inside her, knowing instinctively that she’s wet and ready for me.

  Every muscle in her body stiffens, including those wrapped around my fingers, and she pulls her lips away from me for the first time since they touched, letting her head loll backward against the laundry wall. Her eyelids fall closed heavily, reminding me of an old-fashioned baby doll...

  I snap my thoughts back on track before they head the way I know they will if I’m not careful, and totally wreck my vibe.

  “Nooooooo you don’t. Open up. First one to come is a loser, and I want to see the look in your eyes when I win.”

  Her eyes snap open, and she wrenches her head forward, again looking up at me with a defiant stare.

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  The challenge is clear, and I’m totally there for it.

  “Me too, Bambi. Me motherfucking too.”

  Chapter 16

  Blake

  * * *

  “First one to come is a loser.”

  His words ring in my ears and reverberate around my brain, eclipsing all rational thought. They silence the niggling voice in the back of my head telling me that what I’m doing is crazy, and I should stop now, and get out of the mess I’m in while I’m less behind.

  Somewhere deep in my subconscious I know it’s too late for that now, anyway. The level of insanity that has me riding Zeph Cross’s hand in the laundry at his party, or anywhere for that matter, means I’m already too far gone for sensible decision-making.

  I’m also way too competitive to back down from a challenge, or to want to lose one, and as he pumps his fingers into me, and I grind down onto him, Zeph’s words are definitely that. I rotate my hips in small, agonizingly slow circles while he matches my pace as he pushes in and out, back and forth inside me. It feels so overwhelmingly good, I can hardly bear it.

  As much as it burns me to admit it to myself, or to him, he’s right when he says I’ve been attracted to him from day one. In fact, the way I react to him, even when I’m trying my damnedest not to, has me thinking about the true meaning of the word for the first time in my life. Attracted. I’m pulled toward him like iron filings to a magnet, even though I don’t want to be.

  Zeph smells like a heady mixture of liquor and cologne, which, for some reason, I find powerfully seductive. His bright blue eyes glisten with exhilaration and the smile on his face is both handsome and devilish. He growls in a low voice into my ear again.

  “There’s no way out, little doe. I never lose. Ever.”

  My heart hammers so hard in my chest, I swear he can hear or feel it. He’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean I’m going down without a fight.

  I still my hips in an attempt to ease some of the friction from his fingers, but he has other ideas.

  He probes deeper inside me, adding a third before increasing the size of the circle as he rotates his hand, denying me of the relief I am hoping for.

  With his free hand, he lifts one of my legs, bending it at the knee to change the angle of my body, and plunges his fingers even deeper.

  Holy shit.

  I can barely breathe. Or see. Or think.

  Floored though I am by his touch, I still have my wits about me enough to realize
that I have a slight advantage, now that both of Zeph’s hands are occupied while mine are free.

  “Don’t be coy; I saw the way you looked at my dick in the bathroom upstairs. I know you liked what you saw. You want it, and me. Never let it be said that I deny a girl her heart’s desire. I’ve got what you need right here.”

  He nibbles on my ear lobe and I let out a squeak, shaking my head.

  “I didn’t mean to walk in on you—”

  “Shut up, I didn’t tell you it was okay for you to talk right now.”

  Is this guy for real? What the fuck… I can’t allow him to talk to me that way, but I don’t know how to argue with him either.

  He groans into my ear and pumps his hand inside me faster, and my thoughts become a jumbled mess.

  The smell of alcohol on his breath threatens to overpower me as he continues to invade my body. He stares down at me with a fierce and probing look.

  I’m so conflicted, because on the one hand, he’s a monster, yet on the other, there is something in his eyes that draws me to him every time I look at him.

  He’s so bad, yet so sexy at the same time, but it’s not just that. There’s something behind his angry, or sexy, or brooding glare that seems to contradict his unfailing confidence and arrogance. I can’t quite pin down exactly what it is, but it’s definitely there.

  “I’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll lose this game before it’s even started, and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it. And then when I’m done, not only will you be begging for more, but I’ll have wrecked you for other guys. For life.”

  “You’re deluded.” My voice cracks into hollow laughter.

  “Okay Bambi, you carry on telling yourself that, but we’ll see who has the last laugh.”

  In the nick of time, I get my shit together and remember where I come from. Back home, there’s no way I would put up with this crap for more than five seconds. What the fuck have I been thinking to let Zeph get away with it for as long as he has?

  Not that his behavior is my fault at all, but one thing I know about guys like him—whatever side of the tracks they come from—is if they get any sense of weakness, they’ll exploit it and attack, whether physically, or in some other way. I learned that from first-hand experience of the way my dad treats my mom. Treated her.

  It is the thought of my mom that finally snaps me out of my trance.

  I slap Zeph’s face as hard as I can.

  “Really Bambi? That all you’ve got?” His ice-cold laughter rings around the small space. “Take another shot, but make it count this time.” He offers me the other cheek, his cruel smirk adding a level of menace to his taunting invitation.

  I decide against hitting him again, knowing it won’t make any difference, and wrack my brain for an alternative.

  My body kicks into gear almost before the idea has properly formed in my mind, and my hand shoots out to his throat, squeezing it the same way he did to me minutes earlier.

  He pauses for a moment, and my blood runs cold waiting for his next move. “Jesus Christ that’s so fucking hot. Squeeze tighter.”

  What? He’s insane, but then maybe so am I, as it’s turning me on massively, too, which kind of defeats the reason I did it in the first place. Still, I follow his request and squeeze tighter, reveling in the fact that his eyes momentarily roll back in his head and he grits his teeth as though in pain.

  I doubt very much that I’m truly hurting him, so I know that means I’m affecting him, just like he’s affecting me, but it at least gives me hope that maybe I can win this thing.

  Just as I’m about to move my other hand to his throat to join the first, Zeph brings his knee up under my bent one and holds it that way, freeing the hand that was previously holding it. He reaches downward, and as I follow the movement I realize he’s undoing his fly. I pull my focus back to his face sharply, looking him in the eye.

  “I need to go.” My voice is low and firm as I squirm, trying to bring my leg down.

  “You that afraid of losing our bet?” He thrusts his fingers inside me even harder, and my body bucks again. Hell yes I’m afraid. In fact, I’m terrified, but then another idea hits me.

  I squeeze his throat tighter and let my gaze fall below his waistband. Just as I suspected, he has his dick in his fist and is pumping back and forth.

  Two can play at that game, Mr. Cross.

  I reach down and swat his hand away, replacing his fingers on the shaft with my own. I squeeze as tight as I can while still being able to pump back and forth, which I do while mimicking the rhythm Zeph has set with his fingers inside me. I know I’ve hit the spot when his jaw falls open and his eyelids slam shut. I watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he lets his head droop backward.

  “No you don’t. Open up. I want to see the look in your eyes when I win.”

  At my words echoing his from earlier, Zeph pulls his head back up and glares at me as though he wants to erase me, just by the power of his stare.

  I carry on undeterred, and when his hand once again shoots to my throat, squeezing hard, I revel in the feeling.

  Now we’re mirroring each other’s movements, each with a hand on the other’s throat, while I have the other hand pumping Zeph’s dick and he works me over with his.

  We’re eye-to-eye, angrily staring each other down, in the most bizarre Mexican standoff ever. It’s like a game of sexual chicken, where neither is prepared to yield, and it’s by far the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

  As Zeph pushes and circles his hand back and forth inside me, my arousal climbs to heights I never even knew it could. I’m so turned on that the one leg I’m balancing on while Zeph still has the other cocked over his arm turns to jelly, and not just from the strain of standing that way.

  I’m not the only one deeply affected by the intensity of the situation. Zeph doesn’t alter his steely glare, but his jaw is slack, and his breath is fast and shallow. I love the fact that he’s as turned on as I am.

  I pump my hand harder and faster, and we continue our battle of wills, pushing each other closer to the edge with every thrust. Arousal spreads through my body, and what’s normally a warm glow of pleasure with other guys burns through me like white-hot fury with Zeph.

  It’s an overwhelming combination of ecstasy and pain, and as much as I don’t want to give Zeph the satisfaction of winning our game, I don’t know how much more of it I can take without imploding. It’s the most intense experience of my life.

  Just as I think I’m going to have to concede and let go of the orgasm I’m gripping so tightly to, Zeph groans and starts bucking back and forth, in and out of my hand. His movements are wild, and his angry glare has been replaced by a frown of concentration, and gritted teeth.

  He’s so close that his dick is throbbing in my fist as I squeeze tighter, matching his rhythm thrust for thrust. Not. Long. Now. Just a few more pushes. Victory is so close, I can—

  There’s a sudden flurry of movement, and before I know what’s going on, Zeph has pulled away, wrenching his dick from my hand, and yanking his fingers from inside me. Damned if even the rough graze of his fingers as he snatches them away from my body doesn’t turn me on even more. My orgasm is in sight, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it at this point.

  Zeph moves like a predator, and like his helpless prey, I have no idea what he’s doing until it’s done. He releases my knee and my neck, and flips me over so that I’m facing the laundry counter, then he kicks my legs out with such force that I have no choice but to grab onto the edge to steady myself.

  A blink later, and Zeph pushes roughly inside, hard and deep, then quickly grabs each of my hands from the edge of the countertop and pulls them sharply behind me, using them to lock my body in place. It’s uncomfortable, but hotter than hell, and the message from Zeph is clear—he’s in control.

  Though I hate myself for it, I can’t seem to stop from pushing backward hard, craving more of him and practically impaling myself on his dick to get it. He follows
my lead, plowing into me so hard and fast, over and over, that I’m not sure how much more I can take. Still, my body seeks more, even though my mind is telling me I’ve had enough. Too much, in fact.

  Zeph drags my hands higher, and I have no choice but to rest my cheek against the luxuriantly cool marble surface of the laundry vanity or risk him pulling them from their sockets, yet somehow the plain just intensifies the pleasure.

  When he reaches around me and strums his wet thumb down my throbbing clit, I’m done. My body erupts, then melts into oblivion, every nerve-ending making me feel more alive with sensation than I’ve ever been.

  It’s a few moments before I realize that the animalistic growl reverberating around the walls and floors is coming from deep within me, and few more before I can make myself stop.

  Zeph responds in kind, hammering into me with a speed and force that lets me know he’s close, before jerking backwards with such power, I’m surprised he doesn’t fall over. Instead, the telltale warmth of cum spurting over my ass, and Zeph’s own primal groan, confirms what I already knew.

  For an eerie moment, neither of us moves, and the air is thick with tension and unspoken words. I have no idea how to do anything but breathe and keep myself from tumbling to the ground from sensation-weakened legs, and even those things are a struggle—mentally, and physically. My face is still pressed into the marble, which is part of the reason I don’t fall.

  The sound of Zeph’s zipper breaks the spell I’m under, then his voice in my ear shatters it completely, hitting me like an angry slap to the face.

  “You were never going to win this, Bambi, but you made it like stealing candy from a motherfucking baby. Now clean yourself up before I send the boys in to add their deposits to the sperm bank.”

  Chapter 17

  Tyce

  * * *

  As the door to the laundry slides open, Blake whips around on her heel, eyes ablaze, firing words to match.

  “Jesus Christ Zeph! Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone? You won, congrat—” Her features crumple in surprise as she realizes I’m not Zeph.