Saint: A Dark High School Romance (Angelview Academy Book 1)

by E. M. Snow

  I’ve almost got him right. Where. I—

  He stops me, holding my head still as he yanks his hips away. His cock leaves my lips with a pop, and I try to chase after it, but his grip is iron.

  “Saint! What the hell?” I glare up at him, angry he just denied me the sight of him coming undone.

  He grabs the bottom of my shirt and yanks it up and over my head, tossing it away with the rest of my clothes. Then, he grabs me around the waist and tosses me back further onto the bed. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him shove his jeans and underwear down his legs, the condom packet between his teeth. He’s looking at me like a predator, eager to feed, and I’m his willing prey.

  Once he’s totally naked, he opens the condom. I’m transfixed as he rolls it down his erection, then gives himself a few firm strokes before placing one knee on the bed.

  “I’ll come in that smart mouth later,” he hisses as he prowls toward me. “This first time, though, I want to be inside you.”

  My chest heaves with my uneven breaths, and I’m only capable of a nod as he settles above me on his hands and knees. We stare at each other for a heartbeat of time, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am. That this is surreal. That I could’ve never imagined this happening, not in a million years. Yet, now that it is, I wouldn’t do anything to stop it.

  I want him.

  I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anybody.

  It doesn’t make sense, and I shouldn’t feel this way, but I’m also done questioning it. Whatever this thing is between me and Saint is more than hate, and more than lust. It’s too powerful to resist, no matter how stupid being with him may be.

  “You ready, Ellis?” he murmurs.

  “Yeah,” I breathe.

  Reaching between us, he takes himself in hand and I spread my legs wide so he can line himself up with me. He pauses one moment, the tip of his cock wedged against my entrance, and then, with a thrust of his hips, he slides inside. I gasp, because his dick is so much bigger than his fingers, and it’s been so long since I’ve had sex with anyone. Once he’s pushed into the hilt, he holds himself still, as if he’s giving me time to adjust to him. Pressing one of his thumbs to my clit, he rubs it in slow, firm circles, and sparks of pleasure begin to shoot up through my body.

  I relax and my muscles become more giving as I get wetter. Soon, there’s no pain. I just feel full and stretched, and I want to clutch him tighter to me and grind my hips against him.

  “Good?” His voice rumbles, and I feel it moving in his chest, which is pressed tight to mine.

  “Good,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

  He doesn’t need further encouragement. He rolls his hips, then slowly pulls himself out until just the tip is inside me. Then, he slams back in. I let out a cry, and he begins to move with force. He’s so rough, but I love it. There’s no finesse to our sex. No playing. Just pure, animalistic lust and instinct driving us onward. He growls and snarls as he pistons into me, and I shriek until my ears hurt, clawing at his shoulder and arms with my nails.

  Dropping his head, he buries his face against my neck and begins licking and sucking my skin. I know he’s leaving a mark, a big one, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to hide it. I don’t care at the moment, though, especially when he lowers his mouth to my breasts, sucking and biting at my nipples while he thrusts into me.

  “Saint!” I chant his name like a prayer, but I don’t know what else to say. He’s stolen my ability to think and speak, and all that’s left is touch. Feel. His hard cock wedged deep inside me. The rough pad of his thumb pressing into my clit. His teeth scraping against my nipples. His big, rough hands pinning my hips to the mattress.

  He’s all around me. Consuming me. I couldn’t escape him now, even if I wanted to.

  But I don’t want to.

  I really, really don’t want to.

  What I want is to come, and he’s shoving me toward release like a freight train. I know it’s going to be intense, and I’m almost scared to reach it. But I don’t want him to stop pushing me.

  His thrusts become more brutal, and I think that means he’s getting close as well. It suddenly becomes a race toward the finish, and he seems determined for me to win. His thumb is rubbing my clit so fast now, his hands a blur. It’s too much stimulation, and I almost shove his arm to get him to stop touching me there, but the next moment, I’m crashing over the edge and nothing else in the world matters but the explosion of pure ecstasy coursing through my body.

  I scream against his skin, no longer even capable of saying his name. My nails dig into his shoulders until beads of blood bubble up. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though, as he keeps driving in and out of me, drawing my orgasm out longer and longer until I’m sure I won’t last another second without completely passing out.

  When he comes at last, I know it the moment it begins to happen. His maddening thrusts pause for a split second of time, and then he arches his back, his breath catching, as his hips shove into me as hard as they can. He pulses inside me as he releases into the condom.

  When we both come down from the high, he collapses on top of me, but then rolls to the side so he’s not crushing me. We lay in total silence as we catch our breaths. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I had the most mind-blowing sex of my life with Saint Angelle.

  And I can’t believe how badly I already want to do it again.

  “Hey, what’s up with your scars?”

  I glance over at Saint, who’s lounging against my headboard, still completely naked. We’ve just finished round two of more bone-rattling sex, and I’m spent. I can hardly move, but his question makes me jerk into a sitting position. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I yank my bedsheet over my legs and chest, where I have patches of fading scars, though none of them are super noticeable unless you’re really close to me.

  Like Saint’s been for the last couple hours.

  “They’re nothing,” I quickly say.

  Pressing his full lips into a firm line, he gives a slow blink, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. I don’t really give a shit if he believes me or not, though. He’s not getting the story behind my scars, no matter what he says.

  “They don’t seem like nothing,” he replies. “They seem like fucking something.”

  “Well, I don’t want to talk about them, so just drop it.”

  He rolls over so he’s on his side and props his head in his hand. “Touchy subject?”

  His tone makes me pause. He doesn’t sound like he’s mocking me. He sounds … curious, but not mocking.

  “You could say that,” I grumble.

  Reaching out, he tugs the bedsheet from my grasp, baring my breasts again. With the tip of his finger, he traces the pattern of one of my scars. The contact is so gentle and warm, I shudder as need pulses through me.

  “These look like burn scars.”

  I push his hand away. “I said I don’t want to talk about them.”

  He stares at me for several moments before releasing as sigh, as if in defeat.

  “Fine, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know any of that stuff anyway.”

  It’s a sharp reminder of what we’re not. We’re not friends. We’re not dating.

  But we’ve slept together, so that’s got to mean something.

  I just have no idea what.

  Swinging his long legs to the side of the bed, he stands, and I can’t stop myself from ogling his ass. His ass should win an award, that’s how perfect it is.

  “Taking off?” I ask as he begins to gather his clothes.

  He glances back at me with a smirk. “Why? Ready for round three?”

  I don’t think my vagina would ever forgive me if I agreed to more hard sex tonight. I’m sore enough as it is.

  “No.” I shake my head and stretch on my side, just like he had, so I can watch him get dressed. As he pulls on his pants and shirt, I can’t help but ask, “What are we, Saint? What does this mean?”
<
br />   He turns and gives me that panty-melting, wicked grin of his. “Thanks for the fuck, Ellis.”

  I groan as he turns and walks out my room without a backwards glance. That wasn’t an answer, but of course he knows that. Maybe we’re not enemies, but he’s sure not done messing with me.

  All alone, I’m left with nothing but the memories of our dirty, dirty night together, and even more questions than when this day had started.

  21

  The next morning, I’m not sure what I should be feeling. Fear, probably. Definitely fear. There’s no way Saint hasn’t already told half the school what we did last night. God, I’m already sick to my stomach just thinking of all the bullshit I’m going to have to put up with now.

  I’m on my way to meet Loni and Henry for breakfast to celebrate the success of Parents’ Weekend, but I’m terrified to face them. If they know what I’ve done, they’ll hate me. They’ll think I’m pathetic, at best, and a total masochistic doormat at worst. And I wouldn’t even be able to blame them.

  I get to the oceanfront restaurant that I can tell just by looking at the outside is going to be way too expensive for me, and hurry inside to find my friends. They’re already there, sitting together by the wall of floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the water. Loni catches my eye from across the restaurant and waves. She doesn’t look pissed, which I take as a good sign. I make my way over to them with a wide smile on my face that I hope hides my panic.

  “Hey guys, sorry I’m late,” I say as I slide into the seat next to Loni. I hide my wince as the parts of me that are still sore this morning press against the hard chair.

  “Oh, no worries,” she replies. “We just got here a couple of minutes before you.”

  “Great.” I release a breath of relief when the server appears to take our drink orders. She gazes at us with uncertainty, and I wonder if she can tell we’re from Angelview. I smile at her and try to be as friendly as I can, and she visibly relaxes. Once she’s got our drinks written down, she walks away to give us a few minutes with the menus.

  “Oh my God, guys, I’m so glad that’s over,” Loni gushes. “Thank you both again for all your help. I couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

  “No problem,” I say, my smile more genuine. Maybe Saint hasn’t said anything yet? Or maybe it just hasn’t reached these two? Whatever the case may be, I should probably just relax and enjoy their friendship while I still have it. “It ended up kind of being fun, in the end.”

  “Funny you should mention that…” Loni trails off as the server returns for our food orders. We give them to her, as well as the menus, and she leaves us again with a parting smile.

  I open my mouth to ask Loni what it was she was going to say, but Henry beats me to the punch.

  “Did you guys hear about the shit that apparently went down with Saint and his parents?”

  My stomach drops to the floor, I swear to God it does.

  “Um … no,” I mutter, sounding all sorts of guilty. “What kind of drama?”

  “Saint and his dad got in a fight in the parking lot before his parents left yesterday,” Henry explains with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on his face.

  “Whoa, like a fight, fight?” Loni asks.

  “Nah.” He shakes his head. “Though that would’ve been fucking epic. It was an argument, but it apparently got so heated, Saint shouted at his dad to, and I quote, get his crazy ass off the fucking campus before he put him in a body cast.”

  “Holy shit,” I say on a sharp breath that hurts my lungs. That must’ve been why Saint showed up to my room so drunk last night. I wonder if that’s a common thing between him and his dad? If it is, I could almost feel sorry for the guy.

  Almost.

  Loni makes a face. “Well, his parents have to be crazy, I’ll give him that. What the hell else could possibly explain Saint?”

  I decide it’s best we change the subject away from him.

  “Hey Loni, you were going to say something before the server arrived, I think?”

  Her face lights up as she remembers, and she sits up a little straighter in her chair. “Oh, yes! You’re right. Thank you, Mallory, you beautiful Southern belle, you.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What do you want?”

  “Can’t I compliment my friend without an ulterior motive?” she asks, her face the picture of innocence.

  “We both know you can’t,” I deadpan.

  She releases a dramatic sigh. “Okay, here’s the thing. We had such a good time planning Parents’ Weekend, that I thought we’d keep the ball rolling right into the Halloween Masquerade Ball?”

  “The what?” I ask. How many fucking events does this place have?

  “The Halloween Masquerade Ball,” she repeats. “It takes place every year right before Fall Break. Since we did such a great job with Parents’ Weekend, the planning committee wanted yours truly to take on the ball as well.”

  “And of course, you said yes,” Henry says in a dry voice, but it doesn’t carry to his eyes. Like always, the guy stares at her like she hung the moon, and I can’t help wondering if she’s ever noticed.

  “Of course!” she declares. “The Ball is one of the highlights of the year. I wasn’t going to turn down the chance to make it my own spectacular extravaganza!”

  I can’t help but laugh. Loni is so full of energy, she should exhaust me, but instead, she exhilarates me.

  “All right, I’m in,” I say with a grin.

  She turns to me, her hands clasped against her chest. “Really, Mallory? Don’t feel any pressure. You can tell me no if you really want to. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

  “No, I really want to help,” I assure her. Though I have no intention of going to any social event at Angelview and risking absolute public humiliation one way or another, helping out with these kinds of things looks great on a college application. Especially if that college is Ivy League. Besides, Loni’s my best friend at Angelview, and she’s done so much for me already, it’s the least I can do for her.

  That, and I want to soak up as much time with her as I can before she finds out I fucked Saint and dumps me as her friend. The very thought makes my gut twist and a cold sweat break out on my forehead.

  Loni’s rattling on about the ball, but I’m suddenly trapped in a panic spiral. If Saint tells anyone what happened, I’m done for. Yet, I know there’s nothing I can do to stop him. If he decides to blab about the fact that we had sex, and not just any sex, fucking incredible sex, then I’m not just going to be the girl everyone hates anymore. I’m going to be the slut who lets her tormenter between her legs. Too late, I realize I’ve given Saint the exact thing he’s always wanted ever since we met.

  A way to break me.

  Son of a bitch!

  The next morning when classes resume, I expect nothing but disgusted looks and slut-shaming as I make my way through the dining hall for breakfast. To my surprise, however, I get nothing. The usual dirty looks, sure, but nothing to indicate that my classmates have any new information they can use to make my life hell. I make it through breakfast in relative peace, and then head to English class.

  Again, I expect weird stares and taunts as I cross campus, but few people even pay any attention to me. I had thought Saint would’ve been busy spreading horrible rumors about me after Saturday night, but I’m shocked to realize that he may have actually kept his stupid, gorgeous mouth shut.

  As I walk into the classroom, though, I stop short. Liam’s in his usual, far away seat, his attention focused solely on me. The disgust I expected to see from everyone else is clear in his gaze.

  Fuck.

  He knows.

  I suppose it was too much of me to expect Saint to keep the news of what we did from the other gods.

  I make my way to my seat and try hard not to look at him, even though I can feel his eyes branding a scarlet S into my chest. He’s pissed, but I don’t really get why. He and Saint have a rocky relationship, sure, but that doesn’t mean he nee
ds to sneer at me the entirety of English class just because I lost all sense of reason and slept with the guy.

  Feeling indignant, I turn and meet his gaze with a glare of my own. We stare at each other for several moments, the silence stretching between us tense and sharp. I refuse to be the first to look away, even though I’m getting increasingly uncomfortable with our staring contest. At last, he releases a huff of indignation and drops his focus to the hand on his desk that he keeps clenching and unclenching

  I look toward the front of the room as the teacher begins class, feeling as though I’ve just won some great victory. The feeling is short-lived, however, when not five minutes later, I can feel him staring at me again. I don’t look. I don’t engage. I’m not in the mood to play his head games.

  If Liam’s so mad about me and Saint hooking up, then he can take it up with Saint.

  I’m done with their swinging dick bullshit.

  “Shit, Ellis, you’re quick on your feet.”

  I don’t reply, swinging at Gabe as hard as I can. He manages to duck my gloved fist and dances out of my reach. We’ve got another free day in gym, and somehow, I let this asshole convince me to box with him. I think that part of me just saw it as an opportunity to burn off the steam that was still boiling inside me because of Liam’s dumb ass.

  Admittedly, Gabe is pretty good, but I’m better. At first, I thought he was holding back, perhaps too afraid to hurt me, but he’s not holding back now. I’ve gotten in multiple hits, and he’s yet to land one. I’m not typically a violent person, but when the participant is willing, it can be pretty damn cathartic to beat the shit out of someone.

  I catch him off-guard with a left uppercut that sends him stumbling backwards. He shakes his head, no doubt dazed from the impact, but then he grins at me, his gaze sparkling like he’s having the time of his life.

  “Damn, it’s a shame Saint won’t let you join the boxing team,” he says with a shake of his head. “You’d kill it, and I mean, there’s only like five other teams in the country so you’d get to take your hillbilly-ass all over the place.”