Heartless: A High School Bully Romance (The Privileged of Pembroke High Book 1)

by Ivy Fox

  I look deep into my lover’s eyes once again and see the trace of anger and dismay wanting to break free. Not wanting this hurt to continue living inside him, I slowly lower myself to the sand, my eyes never leaving his, so he can witness the trust and love I hold for him. I don’t miss the flicker of sadness that hides behind his now hooded eyes, provoking the fist that holds my heart to tighten mercilessly. My lost boy needs me to make him whole again, and I won’t let my own insecurities sway me from doing so.

  My shaky hands, now less confident than they were a minute ago, begin to unbuckle his belt. I break eye contact to focus on my task, and I unzip his jeans, pulling them down enough for his engorged cock to spring free. I swallow dryly, feeling the heat in my veins redden every inch of me, as the grains of sand beneath me begin to leave their mark on my knees. My gaze is still fixed on his ten-inch dick wondering how I’ll ever fit it in my mouth, when Ash tilts my face up by my chin, erasing my concern with the loving tenderness in his eyes.

  “Don’t be scared, Snow. It won’t bite,” he teases gently, running his thumb up and down my crimson cheek.

  “What if I’m not good at it?” I ask worriedly, gaining another soft smile from his lips.

  “Practice makes perfect, Snow,” he goads, trying to extinguish my doubts with his light banter. “Besides, I like seeing you on your knees. Far more than I should,” he adds gruffly, his dick twitching in the night air in agreement.

  I lick my lips, summoning all of my courage and determination, and wrap my hands around his quivering shaft. I hear Ash hiss out with the feel of my skin on his, spurring my nerve to lean in and get my first taste. My tongue lightly caresses the head of his cock, tasting the salty moisture. The sounds that fall from Ash’s lips gain momentum as I wrap my lips at his tip and gradually travel my way down. I go slowly at first, trying to acquaint myself with his velvety smooth flesh, but as my confidence increases, so does my hollowed intake of him. I was sure, upon first sight, that I’d be unable to get all of him inside my mouth. But with each stroke of my tongue, and the push and pull of my firm lips, I get much closer to feeling victorious of my accomplishment.

  I find myself captivated with how Ash falls apart from only my mouth. His cussing and howls ignite the fire within me. It’s evident, from the way my panties stick to my folds, that sucking Asher off is as much about his pleasure as it is mine.

  It dawns on me how much I like having this control, which is something I don’t often experience in my life. Either because my mother likes to wield hers over me or my body betrays me in that regard. It reminds me that I am helpless in controlling even my own well-being, no matter how hard I try to stay healthy.

  But this?

  This I can master. I can control every twirl of the tongue, every hollowed blow, every graze of my teeth. I can control the tightening of my grip on him, as well as the light caress on his hip. I control it all, and it’s too much of an aphrodisiac to keep my own pleased humming at bay.

  “Fuck, baby!” Ash shouts with unbridled passion. “Just like that, Snow,” he adds, his hand fiercely holding onto the back of my head, begging me to go deeper.

  I feel how much he wants to push me down, pleading with me to take him all in, but he can’t bring himself to show such aggression with me. Knowing that I’m the one who is really dominating him, and not the other way around, I release my hold from the base of his cock. I cover his hand with one of my own, while the other gently grips his hip, silently giving my consent for him to do his worst. It takes him all of two seconds to understand, but when he does, and his inhibitions are no longer in check, all hell breaks loose. With brutal force, he fucks my mouth, his cock fully covered by my wet, hollowed warmth. I try to breathe from my nose and relax my throat every time I feel his tip touch my tonsils. Although my eyes start to water on their own accord—from my gag reflex—I’m enjoying too much of Ash’s pent-up lust to have him stop now.

  “Look at me,” he orders, wrapping my hair in his fist, and giving it a tug so he can have a full view of my face.

  I crane my neck back as much as I can while continuing to deep throat him, without breaking our erratic rhythm.

  “FUCK!” he wails, pushing me softly away from him.

  My eyes go wide in shock and curiosity, watching Ash pump his weeping cock twice and cum all over my chest.

  I’m still covered with his release on me when he pulls me to my feet, his lips landing on mine for the first time tonight. The passion and desire in this one kiss are so astounding that I almost combust with the force of it all. His eyes are full of a myriad of emotions—love being right at the very center. He covets my lips as if memorizing their soft feel on his. It’s so intense I have to lock my arms around his neck to keep my balance, melting further into his passionate embrace. I’m breathless and boneless by the time it’s finished.

  When Ash breaks away, his breathing is just as fierce and, like me, it takes him a few minutes to recover. But my worry throttles back with a vengeance when his tender gaze morphs into an unfamiliar, darker shade—as if shutters have been pulled down to conceal his every thought.

  “I have to give you an A for effort, Holland. For your first time, you weren’t all that bad. Or maybe that’s a lie, too,” he mumbles the last part to himself. “But it’s gonna be a hard pass on whatever else you’re offering tonight,” he states coldly, spreading his cum on my erect nipple with the tip of his finger.

  His bitter words rob me of speech, but not of my pride, so I swat his hand away in disgust. His nonchalant shrug just confuses me more as he begins to adjust his pants as well as the hard dick that doesn’t seem to share in its owner’s opinion.

  Forgoing my bra altogether, I pick up my T-shirt and pull it over my head, the sticky release instantly clinging to the fabric.

  My words come in full force when Ash begins to turn his back on me, looking like he’s about to leave without even an apology for his deplorable choice of words. I grab his elbow, halting him, and turn him to me to figure out if maybe my ears were deceiving me.

  “Ash! Stop! What is going on? Why are you acting like this?” I shout.

  He just rolls his eyes and turns his back on me once more, ignoring me completely. I jump in front of him, placing my hands over his chest, preventing another step.

  “What are you doing, Asher?” I croak, the aggravating tears starting to burn my eyes.

  Why is he acting this way? Why?

  “What does it look like? I’m leaving,” he relents, grasping my chin in his grip. “It was good while it lasted, but now I’m bored with you.”

  “What?” I whisper, confused and hurt by his apathy.

  “Jesus! Can’t you take a hint, Holland? Thanks for the blowjob and all, but I wouldn’t touch your skanky-ass pussy with a ten-foot pole. Who knows where it’s been?” he snarls, and my hand instinctively snaps out to slap the sneer off his face.

  My body begins to tremor at what I’ve done, as he holds the cheek I’ve hit with his own palm. The sadistic glare in his eye only heightens my confusion and rage.

  “You know I’ve only had sex once. I told you about it.” I swallow hard, his taste still lingering in my mouth.

  “Yeah, you’ve told me a lot of things,” he rebukes, looking at me like a piece of trash someone forgot to take out. “But what you’re selling, I ain’t buying. Don’t call me again, and don’t you dare call Ollie. We’re not interested,” he responds with so much revulsion, I have to push down my own bile from surfacing.

  “What is wrong with you?” I whimper.

  The eerie laugh that comes out of him chills me to the bone.

  “Everything! Everything is wrong,” he mumbles, revealing the strain in his voice.

  I try to make sense of this, but there is little of it to grasp on to. The only thing I know for certain is Ash is suffering, and apparently, he wants me to share his misery.

  “I see that you’re hurting, Ash. It’s obvious you’re going throug
h something, and I really wish you would just talk to me so we could work it out. But hurting me won’t help you in any way. I’m disappointed that you would even try. You don’t hurt the ones you love.”

  “See, that’s where you and I disagree. Seeing you break will help me immensely,” he counters, running his fingers through his short hair. “And soon, I’ll have all the time in the world to make you feel every ounce of pain you’ve caused me.”

  “Me?! I would never dream of hurting you, Asher. I told you, I love you,” I plead to his heart and common sense, but all it does is add fuel to an already volatile flame.

  He grabs me by the throat, and it’s the first time his grip isn’t done with affection. I see hate dwelling in his hazel eyes, and I feel a flicker of something I never thought he’d ever be capable of bringing out of me—fear.

  “Let go of me, Asher,” I order stoically, not once letting on how he just shattered all my dreams and hopes with his intimidation and disrespect.

  He doesn’t tighten his hold, but that doesn’t matter to me. The threat alone slices through my heart, leaving nothing but broken glass that he can easily use to carve out whatever remains standing. I watch, stock-still, as his blind rage evaporates, and utter shame coats the border of his eyes. He lets me go, taking two steps back away from me, and this time I don’t bridge the gap that he’s so intent on keeping between us. Driven by Ash’s obnoxious attitude tonight, I raise my head high in contempt, looking at the man I love as if he were a total stranger to me.

  “I really wish I could just make you disappear from my sight. It would make things easier. You might have started this, Holland, but believe me when I tell you, I’m the one who will finish it if you come near Ollie or me again.”

  My swollen eyes open, disturbed by the light passing between the dark, navy curtains being pushed apart. The sunlight kisses my face, but the bright glow fails to warm my cold bones. The familiar clacking of Vivienne’s heels on the varnished wood floor comes closer to my side of the bed, stopping a few feet away by the lounge chair in the corner of my room. I don’t turn to face her or acknowledge her presence. Instead, I just lie there and stare at the pale, white ceiling.

  “Are those tears for me?” she asks curiously as she sits on the chair. I feel the teardrops she’s referring to dampen the pillow beneath me.

  “No,” I rasp, my throat sore from crying all night.

  “I didn’t think so,” she responds.

  I know she wants my full attention since she doesn’t come to my room unless she has some new rule or unpleasant, humiliating remark she’s itching to dole out.

  “I can only presume you’ve spoken to your grandmother then.” She sighs, annoyed. “That old bag loves to steal my thunder even with the tedious things.”

  Confused as to what my grandmother has to do with her unexpected visit, I turn to my side, wiping my face beforehand, so my mother doesn’t see any more of my tears. I know how much she enjoys them.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, and the shark grin that tugs on her lips creates a whole new wave of nausea. I spent most of last night on my knees on the bathroom’s tiled floor. I was really hoping I didn’t have to start my morning the same way.

  “Oh, so she didn’t talk to you yet. What fun,” she singsongs, the leg over her thigh bobbing about in delight.

  “Just say what you came here to say, Mother, and be done with it. I don’t have time for your games today,” I quip, turning away from her.

  I hear her heels stomp on the floor, and all too soon her cold fingers wrap themselves around my chin, sinking her nails into my skin and jerking my head to the side, forcing me to look up at her.

  “Make time,” she sneers, brutishly pushing my face away as if repulsed by the mere touch of my skin.

  Sitting upright on my bed and clutching my fists on the duvet, I throw her the same fake grin she is so fond of dishing out.

  “How can I help you, Mother?” I grit out, not able to hide the venom in my words. Today, I have no will to pretend she’s worthy of such pleasantries. I’m too brittle and raw as it is.

  “Better,” she huffs out, sitting back in her seat. “As you know, tomorrow is a big day for me. I want you to be on your best behavior. I will not tolerate defiance of any kind. Is that understood?”

  I give her a stiff nod, unsurprised she came into my room for this reason.

  “Good. Now, there may be some people in attendance that are more curious than most. If anyone should show any interest in you, which I doubt will happen, you are to say that you lived with your grandmother, because she is frail and in dire need of companionship. Like a dog, if you will. But since her son’s death, your presence in her house has weighed on her, understandably so. Therefore, you’ll be moving into the Grayson Manor with me once Malcolm and I return from our honeymoon, and you are to look elated at being welcomed into such a prestigious family.”

  “But won’t your guests find out I’m lying? I mean, I assume most of them live in New York, too. Won’t they find it odd when they see I didn’t move in with you?” I ask, confused as to why my mother would want to be caught in such a banal lie.

  “Who says you’re not? Malcolm and his children expect your arrival in two weeks’ time. I’ve already spoken with your grandmother to tell her that you will no longer be her responsibility, but mine, seeing that I am your only legal guardian. The old hag didn’t like it much, but I have the law on my side. Literally and figuratively.” She chuckles, referring to her husband-to-be.

  I’m too dumbstruck to say a word. Has everyone lost their damned minds suddenly? Is insanity filtering into the Hamptons’ water supply or something? Because if it is, I want no part in drinking the spiked Kool-Aid.

  I throw the sheet off me and sit on the side of my bed, intent on talking my mother out of this foolish idea. She hates me. Always has, always will. What purpose does it serve, ripping me away from my home just to be a prop in her new marriage? Sooner or later, she’ll drop her guard, and everyone will see what a vile woman she is, even toward her own flesh and blood. I’m sure that isn’t something she wants to be broadcasted.

  “Mother, please. You must reconsider. Let me stay at Brookhaven. I turn eighteen in just a few months anyway, relieving you of your legal responsibilities. You can tell Judge Grayson you can’t bring yourself to take me away from the only home I’ve ever known. I’m sure he’ll sympathize, and even reward you for such a sacrifice. Please, Mother. Don’t make me go,” I plead earnestly, hoping she realizes that the disadvantages of taking me with her far outweigh any benefits she stands to gain with my presence in the household.

  “I have made up my mind. So has the judge. We will all live like one happy family. Isn’t that what you always wanted? Wasn’t that what I heard you constantly cry out to your father on the phone every time he called? Well, there you have it. Wish granted.” She shrugs, getting up from her seat, apparently done with our conversation.

  “Mother.” I try to reiterate my plea, but she just holds out her open palm, halting all my appeals.

  “Sunday morning I have arranged a town car to take you back to Brookhaven. You have two weeks to pack and bid your goodbyes to that old shrew you call a grandmother. After that, I expect you to arrive in New York as if it was always your desire to live there. Malcolm has even been gracious enough to enroll you at Pembroke High, one of the most elite schools in the state that only a few are privileged enough to attend. I hope you thank him properly tomorrow for his generosity. Is that understood?” she adds menacingly. I give her a curt nod in reply, knowing any attempt in changing her mind will be in vain.

  “Good.” She smiles sinisterly, walking toward my bedroom door. Before opening it and showing herself out, she turns around, eagerly leaving one more condescending remark. “And, Holland, please put an icepack over those eyes. Tomorrow is a day of celebration, not a funeral.”

  “How come it feels like one then?” I mumble when she closes the door
behind her.

  This summer was supposed to be the last time living under her thumb, but her new nuptials just made it clear that I’ll have to endure her for the foreseeable future.

  I pick up my phone, and I am not surprised to see a few voice messages from my grandmother. She’s most likely to be upset because of my mother using the legal-guardian card, forcing me out of her home. I’ll have to call her back and calm her temper.

  No matter what my mother has up her sleeve, I’ll be eighteen in October, so I can pack up my things and leave without her being able to do anything about it. I just have to play along for the next few months. If I can stomach it, I’m even willing to finish my senior year in New York. Judge Grayson’s advice on attending a traditional educational environment, even if only for a year, does help in my college applications. It may be a sacrifice now, but it will help me in the future.

  The pain in my stomach resurfaces when I see there are no messages or texts from either Ollie or Ash. I want to give them their space, especially after what happened with Ash and me last night, but I can’t leave things as they are. I need to know what is going on and why they are both trying so hard to drive me away—Ollie with his silence, and Ash with his humiliation.

  There is a subtle knock on the door, and a small brunette enters my room. I recognize her as one of the girls from Monique’s Beauty Salon. She has the glam suitcases with her indicating that the dog-and-pony show is about to begin. My mother wants tomorrow’s wedding ceremony to go off without a hitch. I suppose it wouldn’t do to have her maid of honor looking like she was at death’s door. I offer the girl a small smile and ask if I can take a quick shower. It’s probably the last opportunity I’ll have to release the rebel tears that still cling to my lids.

  The whole wedding hoopla served one purpose at least—it made me focus on keeping my smile, even when all I wanted to do was lick my wounds. The whole day passes by in a blur and, before I know it, I’m in my pale-pink, maid-of-honor dress, bouquet in hand, waiting for the bride to arrive and get this show on the road.