by E. M. Snow
Resting my hands on his chest, I drop my head back and move faster and faster above him. He grips my hips but doesn’t try to slow me down or speed me up. He grunts and groans, until the room is filled with the sound of our skin slapping and our mingled, breathless noises. As I move my hips over him, nothing else matters. There’s nothing in my mind but the pursuit of release. I can feel it, building in my gut, and I grind down on Saint as I chase after it.
“That’s it, Mal,” he growls, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Come for me. Fuck me harder and come.”
As if my body was just waiting for his permission, I feel my orgasm explode within me. I cry out to the ceiling as I spasm and clench my legs around him. He pumps his hips up into me, reaching his own peak, and with a shout, begins shooting inside me as his muscles strain and his face goes red.
When I come down from the high, I collapse against his chest. His arms wrap around me and hug me tight. He’s still inside me, and we stay like that without saying a word as we catch our breaths. I can hear his heart racing in his chest, and it makes me grin to know I did this to him. I made him breathless. I caused him to lose control of himself and made him lose his mind with pleasure.
He begins to rub my back with his big hand, and I feel so content and satisfied, I can’t even remember what it was I was supposed to be asking him in the first place.
31
The sunlight is the devil, and I want it to die. It’s shining right against my eyelids, forcing me from sleep. Slowly, I open my eyes and gaze around the room, momentarily disoriented as I realize I’m not in my own bed. I stretch and roll over to find Saint asleep on his back, his arm thrown over his head.
Propping up on my elbow, I gaze down at him with a soft grin. God, he’s beautiful. I love to watch him sleep. He’s been sleeping a lot more now, since we’ve started this thing. It makes me happy to know that I’ve had some part in easing his insomnia. At least a bit. His expression is soft, his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. I raise my hand and trace my fingers down his cheek with a feather-light touch.
His hand suddenly shoots up and captures mine.
“I’ve got a better place this could go.” He slowly leads my hand down his torso and slips it beneath the covers. He uses his fingers to wrap mine around his hard dick.
I bite my lip and begin to stroke. His eyes open and he locks eyes with me. We stare at each other as I work him with my hand. When the urge to kiss him overpowers me, I give in and press my lips to his. He lets out a grunt and comes in my grip.
After another kiss, I crawl out of his bed and creep into his bathroom to wash my hands.
“Who’s James?”
I freeze, the question coming out of nowhere and slamming into me like a runaway city bus. Reaching for a hand towel, I dry my hands and don’t offer an answer right away. I walk to the bathroom doorway and meet his eyes. He’s still lounging in bed, his back against the headboard.
“Why do you want to know about James?” I ask in a soft voice.
“You kept saying his name in your sleep.”
I release a deep, shaky breath. Fuck. Had I known I talked in my sleep, I’d never have stayed over.
“He’s no one,” I insist, turning away from him to find my clothes. He doesn’t say anything for a heartbeat of time, but then I hear him move out of the bed to wander around the room as well.
“Doesn’t seem like no one,” he comments after a few moments.
My shoulders stiffen. “Let it go, Saint. I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Why not? You’ve told me so much already. What could be worse than a meth dealing mom on the run?”
A lot, as it happens. My mom’s really on the tip of the fucked-up iceberg, and James is part of that huge chunk of ice hiding beneath the surface of the water.
“Haven’t I told you enough?” I ask with a shrug. “What more do you really want to know about me anyway?”
I feel him come up behind me before his hands clutch my shoulders.
“Is he an ex?” he whispers in my ear. His voice is hard, his grip tight. “The last guy you fucked? Some asshole waiting for you in Bum Fuck Georgia?”
He’s jealous again, but the ironic thing is, James isn’t the one Saint should be jealous of. Turning to face him, I’m startled by the way his eyes blaze when I meet them.
“Would you care if I had someone back home?” I can’t help but ask. It’s a stupid question, really, given the topic at hand, but I’m yearning to find out just what he feels for me.
One of his hands moves toward my collarbone.
“What do you think?” he growls. “If some fucker’s playing games with my pussy, of course I give a fuck.”
“Stop talking like I’m some object, Saint. And … and James and I were never a thing.”
His expression relaxes, but his fingers remain in place, and he rubs a strand of my hair between his fingers. “Then what was he? Why do you dream about him? This isn’t the first time you’ve said his name.”
I stare up at him, my mind scrambling for what to do. The temptation to tell him everything is right there, stronger than ever. I’ve already shared so much with him, and he’s been surprisingly accepting of it all. I think it helps that he’s as broken on the inside as I am, just broken in different ways. If anyone would keep my secret…
“A year ago, my house caught on fire, and James was stuck inside it. He died, Saint. James is dead so you have nothing to worry about. Happy?”
The words are out of my mouth before I fully realize I’m saying them, and then they hang in the air between us like a miasma. His brow furrows, and he stares at me in disbelief. For a second, I don’t think he fully understands what I’ve just said.
“Huh,” he says at last, then turns from me to walk to his closet. My eyes go wide as my jaw drops. That’s it? That’s all he has to say?
“Umm, did you hear me?” I ask, moving after him as I pull on my shirt.
“Yeah.” He disappears into his walk-in closet and starts digging around for clothes.
“A-and … it doesn’t bother you at all?” I move to the door and peer inside after him.
He glances over his shoulder at me and shrugs. “Why should it? Shit happens. It’s not like you murdered the guy.”
My lips part in shock. It’s not like I didn’t murder him either.
“How are you so cavalier about this?”
He pulls on a pair of jeans, then digs out a black t-shirt before turning back to face me with it clutched in his hand.
“It is what it is. It happened. It’s done. It’s not my problem and doesn’t make you less fuckable.”
Oh, hello again Mr. Hyde, I thought I screwed you away…
He pushes past me, falling back into silence. I can’t help but watch him for several moments, completely baffled by his response. It wasn’t at all what I expected. It’s not really acceptance. He just doesn’t care.
I don’t really know how to feel about that.
“Okay, Saint.” I think it’s time to go. The atmosphere in the room is weird now.
Almost unbearable.
He doesn’t respond, so I turn for the door without another word.
“I’ll see you at the swim meet tonight,” he calls before I’m able to step out into the hall.
Blinking, I turn back to him. “Al-alright.”
He smirks and nods his head, then pulls his shirt on. With slow, hesitant movements, I shut the door and walk away from his room, feeling stunned and uncertain as to what the hell just happened.
My blood is humming with anticipation as I stretch, readying for my first official race at my first swim meet of the season. I’ve been getting more and more excited all day long waiting for this, and I haven’t even had room in my mind to think of Saint and his strange reaction to my confession about James this morning. In fact, as I pull my leg back to stretch out my quad, I realize I haven’t seen him all day. He wasn’t in gym today, though I guess he did tell me he’d see me tonight.
<
br /> I wonder where he is.
“Ellis, you’re up!” Coach Friedricks shouts.
I jump to attention and hurry forward. There’s a decent-sized crowd filling the stands around the pool, and I quickly scan it to find my friends. Loni and Henry are in the front row, and they wave at me excitedly when we make eye contact. I let my eyes wander some more, and I find Gabe and Liam sitting near the top of the bleachers, but Saint’s not with them. I frown, momentarily distracted as I search for him. The other swimmers are starting to move toward the blocks, and I know I need to follow them, but I just need to see him…
There! I spot him standing at the end of the bleachers near the door. Our eyes meet and his nostrils flare as he gives me a solemn nod. I bite my lip to hide my smile and excitement that he’s here, not even caring that his odd expression doesn’t change. I shouldn’t care this much, I know that. It’s not exactly healthy, what we have, I know that too, but in this moment, I can’t make myself care about any of that.
He’s here. He’s putting in effort. He’s showing me that I’m not just a steady fuck.
I’m something more.
With that thought making me giddy, I hurrying to my starting block and force my focus on my race, knowing he’ll be watching every move I make.
I walk into the auditorium after my swim meet riding a high. I won my race, and the entire crowd went crazy for me. It was the first time since coming to Angelview that I felt truly accepted, even for a moment. I know it likely won’t last, and half the school will be back to hating me in the morning, but I’m soaking up the feeling for as long as it lasts.
An assembly is scheduled for right after the meet to celebrate student achievements for the now completed fall sports. For once, I’m not dreading being stuck in a room full of my classmates. I’m not even stressed that I have two finals tomorrow that I need to study for. I’m prepared for them, and once their over, I’ll head back to Georgia to spend winter break with Carley. Everything is clicking for me right now. I’m not worried about Dylan or concerned about Saint. After a year of absolute shit, it kind of feels like things might be looking up for me at last.
That should’ve been my first clue that shit was about to hit the fan.
The awards presentation went on longer than was probably necessary, but several of the coaches and teachers didn’t bother to stick to the one-minute speech rule the headmaster laid out at the beginning of the event. When they finally begin to wrap things up, I think we’re home free, but then Headmaster Aldridge tells us to remain seated as there are several announcements regarding Winter Break that we need to hear.
To my complete and absolute shock, Saint and Laurel suddenly take the stage.
What the fuck? Why are they giving the announcements?
My shoulders tense and there are alarms blaring in my head. Something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.
But Saint wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, right? I’m just being paranoid and besides, Laurel is the president of the student council. Even though she would love nothing more than to publicly humiliate me to death, at least I know that he and I are past that.
We don’t hate each other anymore. We don’t want to destroy each other anymore.
Right?
My gut twists with dread as I sit and wait to see what they’re going to say.
“Thank you, Headmaster Aldridge,” Laurel says in that baby voice she uses when she wants extra attention. Turning her attention to the crowd, she smiles wide, but Saint remains silent behind her, his expression blank even as a muscle spasms furiously in his jaw. “First, before we get into anything with Winter Break, we are very excited to welcome a new member of the Angelview family. As many of you know, poor Mrs. Buckingham was forced into early retirement this year because of health issues. The administration has been hard at work searching for a new history teacher to replace her, and we are happy to say that they’ve found a wonderful candidate to fill the position.”
Oh. Okay. This is a seems safe enough. A new teacher is a good thing.
I release a sigh. I am just being paranoid.
Laurel raises her hand and speaks loudly into the microphone. “It is my pleasure to introduce our new faculty member, Mr. Dylan Porter!”
As the rest of the assembly applauds, my heart stops. At Laurel’s introduction, the new teacher steps out onto the stage and makes his way over to her. I’d know him anywhere. Even with his new haircut and short beard.
Dylan.
Dylan is the new teacher.
Dylan is going to be working at my school.
Dylan, James’ brother, who swore to never speak to me again. To hate me until his dying day.
What. The. Fuck?
My breathing becomes erratic as my gaze bounces from Dylan to Saint. I didn’t tell him about Dylan, did I? I’m certain I didn’t, but this can’t be a coincidence, even though it has to be because I just told him about James this morning. Saint’s not looking my way, though. His face is still an impassive mask, and it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking right now.
Please, God, don’t let him be behind this. Just let this be a twisted turn of fate.
Laurel’s talking again, but I don’t hear her. There’s a ringing in my ears that’s making it impossible to escape my thoughts. I turn from Saint and stare at Dylan, and as if he can feel my eyes on him, he turns and meets my gaze.
He doesn’t look surprised to see me, though he looks far from pleased about it. That means he knew I was here. Did he intentionally seek me out? Apply for this job, knowing I’d be a student?
So many questions are running through my mind that I almost miss what Laurel says next. Her words manage to latch onto my attention, though, with her last piece of advice.
“All right, everyone. Have a safe Winter Break, and remember, stay away from drugs.”
My entire body stiffens. It’s such a random thing for her to say. Such a random warning to give. It doesn’t make sense in the context of the rest of her speech, talking about winter sports schedules and test make-up opportunities. There are no other warnings about alcohol or unprotected sex.
Just drugs.
I know where this is going even before she turns her cruel, triumphant glare towards me.
“Doing drugs can have terrible consequences, as Mr. Porter is tragically all too aware of.”
I turn my eyes to Saint, but he’s still not looking at me, and now I can see that it’s intentional. My heart begins to crack at the realization of what’s happening.
“A year ago, Mr. Porter’s younger brother tragically died in a fire caused by a drug lab exploding.” With each word Laurel speaks, I go a little number inside. “James Porter was the quarterback of his high school’s winning football team. He had a bright future ahead of him, and it was sadly stolen because of drugs.”
Look at me, Saint. Goddamn look at me!
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Laurel is going on with her talk, and I ready myself for the coming blow because I know I can’t stop it now, not even if I try to leave. She wants her pound of flesh, and she’s about to claim it.
“But James Porter did not die because he himself was using drugs. No, he died a hero.” Laurel is upping the drama. Making it hurt so much more as she slowly twists the knife in my heart. “He was trying to save one of our own, Mallory Ellis, and her unborn baby from the unsafe living environment her mother had created for her. With the grace of God, though, the entire Porter family has chosen to forgive Jennifer Ellis for her crimes.”
The room goes very still as the information is absorbed by the masses. Slowly, people begin to turn to stare at me in shock. Then, a low murmur begins to fill the room as the whispers start up. I ignore them all, though. Their pettiness and disgust don’t matter right now.
I just keep staring at Saint, who hasn’t flinched, hasn’t moved a muscle the entire time he’s been up there.
He did this. He caused this all to happen. I trusted him with my sec
rets, and he betrayed me worse than anyone has in my entire life.
Worse than Jenn.
Worse than Dylan.
My heart is shattering, and I can’t stop it. I don’t feel the pain because my body is shutting down. It knows I can’t handle what’s happening. Knows I’ll go insane if I feel everything my mind wants me to feel right now.
He and Laurel had done some digging. I told him about James and the fire, but that was only hours ago. I hadn’t spoken a word about the baby. My baby. My baby that I’d barely had time to come to terms with before he was lost.
I tear my gaze from Saint to look at Dylan, and he’s still staring at me. He doesn’t look satisfied or vindicated. Doesn’t look furious or hateful.
He looks cold.
Emotionless.
As if nothing fazes him anymore.
I suppose I can’t blame him for hating me. After all, James wasn’t the only person I took from him.
That’s my worst secret. The one no one knows. Not even Carley.
She always assumed the baby was James’, but it wasn’t.
No, the baby that I lost, the baby that I dreaded even having, was Dylan’s.
32
I hold my head high as I hurry from the auditorium. I need to get the fuck out of here.
“Let’s see the track marks, meth slut!”
“Did you overdose and kill your baby?”
“Trailer trash bitch!”
“I wish you’d have died in that fire.”
The taunts of my fellow students chase me out in the cool evening air. I can’t let them see how shaken I am. I can’t let them think I’m weak. Moving forward, I ignore their jeers and cruel words as best I can, though I can feel tears burning the backs of my eyes, trickling down my numb face, falling to my flushed chest.