by Gemma Weir
“My problem is you. Spoiled little rich girl who think her shit doesn’t fucking stink. I hate bitches like you, who walk around thinking the world owes you something and that everyone should bow down at your expensive fucking shoes.” I hiss at Nova, vitriol spewing out with every word. I want to hurt her, and I watch as every barb hits its mark.
Then I see something in her eyes, something I wasn’t expecting; an emotion: panic. I recognize it with a familiarity that scares me. For a second, her entire body coils, like she’s getting ready to run. But why? Why would she run?
My eyes scan her face and then I see her. I see the beautiful Princess, not the manipulative bitch. This is Nova, not Bella, and even thought they might seem similar, that glimpse of fear, panic, or whatever it was, sets them apart.
The next minute, Zeke is on his feet and standing between us. I try to listen to whatever he’s threatening me with, but all my thoughts, all my attention is focused on her; how hard my dick is and how much I want her.
* * *
Present Day.
I walk the corridors, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. The kids in the Scions inner circle continue to hold court, just the way they did when the others were here, and no one stands out. Perhaps the girls all stand a little straighter and the guys talk a little louder, but nothing about any of them strikes me as out of the ordinary.
I’d hoped to be able to go to her tonight. Use the excuse of information of what’s happened at school as a reason to be there at her house. But I can hardly go around to tell them that nothing happened, that no one is any different.
I need to see my Princess. I know I should explain, tell her about my mom, tell her about Bella. But the idea of exposing myself to her is just too hard to consider. If I was normal, if I was capable of having a normal relationship with anyone, none of this would have happened and I’d be with Nova, comforting her, not on the outside desperate to be allowed into her orbit.
When the bell for lunch rings, I make my way to the cafeteria, unsure if I’ll be welcome at the table we normally sit at, or if I shouldn’t bother trying. The cacophony of noise hits me the moment I push through the doors. The entire school in one room, all laughing, joking and talking as a sea of kids pretend to be free, at least for the next hour.
I grab a burger and some fries and then scan the room, trying to decide where to sit now that I’m alone again. Before I decide to move, a small hand curves around my bicep; long, bright-pink nails with a small crown painted onto one grip onto my arm, the sharp points scratching at the skin.
“Hey, Valentine,” Brit purrs, moving forward, pulling me along beside her before I have time to question her actions.
The last time I saw her, she looked broken, her eyes downcast and fearful after the confrontation with Nova and Zeke. The girl beside me couldn’t appear anymore different. Her hair has been dyed several shades blonder so it’s almost white and it’s twisted into bouncy curls that bob up and down as she walks. Her shirt dips low, revealing plump tits barely restrained by the red lace bra visible through the white tank she’s wearing. Her skin is tan, her makeup thick, and the jean shorts she’s wearing are so tiny the cheeks of her ass are hanging out the bottom.
She’s dressed to impress and when we stop at the table full of the inner circle, she waves seductively, her lips curved into a confident smile. The guys’ eyes all drop to her tits, appreciative grins tipping their lips as they feast on the free show she’s so eagerly offering. The girls eye her more warily, their gazes taking her in, then moving to me. Soft smiles are flashed my way and it takes me a moment to realize that this is it, this is the play.
It was Brit. Brit either recorded that video, or found out who did and set it to play to humiliate Nova, the way the Scions had humiliated her.
Nova and Zeke ridiculed her; they cast her out of the top tier and the others followed suit. Brit went from being one of the most popular girls in school to the lowest of the low and now that the Scions are gone, she’s making her play and using me as arm candy.
“Hell, fucking no,” I hiss, prying her pink talons from my arm and pushing her away with a little too much force.
“Valentine,” she coos, her voice soft and affected.
“You conniving little bitch,” I say, shaking my head at her.
Her wide, shocked eyes don’t fool me. I can see the smirk barely hidden beneath her fake outrage. “What’s the matter, baby?” she pouts, all sweetness.
I laugh. “You’ll never be her. You could prance through the halls completely naked and you’ll still never be as popular, as revered.”
Her eyes harden and the shock disappears, replaced by indignant anger.
I don’t give her time to speak, I just smile pityingly at her, then laugh and walk away, pulling my cell out of my pocket as I go. I’m hitting dial as I walk out of the front door and head for the parking lot, glad that Brandi leant me her car to get to school this morning.
“What?” Zeke snaps when he answers.
“I know who it was.”
“What?”
“It was Brit. I’m on my way over; I’ll be there in ten.”
“I’ll speak to Nova,” he says, his voice wary.
“See you in a minute,” I say, ending the call and immediately dialing Nova.
“Hello,” she says, her voice quiet.
“I’m on my way over, tell Zeke it’s okay to let me in.”
“Valentine, you don’t get to demand I do stuff anymore,” she snaps.
“I know who set up the video.”
The line goes silent and I wish I could see her face, that I was there and that she’d let me comfort her. But who am I kidding? If I was there, she wouldn’t let me touch her.
“Who was it?” she asks, her voice catching.
“I’ll be there in five; just let me in, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers, and I end the call, dropping my cell to the passenger seat and driving as fast as I can to get to her.
When I pull into the driveway, only their mom’s car is there and I take the risk of walking straight up to the front door, hoping that Echo doesn’t answer. I raise my fist to knock, but the door swings open before I get chance; both Zeke and Griffin are stood on the other side, matching scowls on their faces.
“Can I come in? I just want to talk, then you can hit me again or whatever.”
Griffin’s eyes drift to the black bruise beneath my eye and a slight grin twitches at the corner of his lips.
When they both step back, I cautiously move into the house, my eyes scanning for Nova, wanting to see her, even just a glimpse.
“She’s downstairs,” Zeke says coldly, noticing my searching.
“Can I talk to her?” I ask.
“You talk to us first,” Zeke says, closing the door behind him with a decisive thud. “Why do you think it was Brit?”
“She came in today: new hair, hooker sexy clothes, little crowns painted on her fingernails, and then she grabbed me and pranced straight up to your lunch table.”
“So what?” Griffin scoffs. “Brit’s always dressed slutty, that’s nothing new.”
I look to Zeke, locking my eyes to his. “You decimated her that day. She made a play for the crown and got burned. Have you even seen her since? Has she sat at the table with us? Has she spoken to anyone since? No. Then today she turns up dressed like that and tries to step into Nova’s shoes, even grabbing me and trying to act like we were a couple when everyone knows Nova and I are together.”
“You’re not together. You blackmailed her into acting like you were a couple, you sick bastard.” Zeke snaps angrily.
“But the only ones who know that are us and your parents. As far as everyone at school knows, Nova and I were… are together. It was Brit, I’m telling you it was her.”
Zeke looks to Griffin, who shrugs his shoulders, clearly unsure if they should believe me or not.
“Look, I called her on it. She didn’t admit it, but she didn’t deny it. She
just smirked. This was her.”
“Brit,” Nova says, emerging from where she’d obviously been listening from behind the basement door.
My eyes move to her without thought and as I stare, I memorize the way she looks, the way her baggy sweatpants sit low on her hips, the way her cropped football jersey flashes an expanse of her toned stomach.
I nod. “Brit.”
“We were friends.” Her tone is flat and emotionless, but she can’t hide the desolation in her tear-filled eyes.
“The reason she was so quick to believe that you were keeping guys away from her was because it’s what she was doing.”
“What?” Emmy says, stepping from behind Nova, reaching down and taking her friend’s hand as she stands next to her.
“The second time I met her, she offered to suck my dick if I stayed away from you. She told me you were a frigid bitch who didn’t put out and that she could keep me satisfied if I just pretended not to notice you.”
Nova’s eyes widen and the muscles in her arms tense as she grips Emmy’s hand. “We’ve known each other since Elementary school.”
“She offered to blow me loads of time,” Griffin says, surprising me when he moves to stand by my side, facing the girls.
“Just because she’s slutty, doesn’t mean that she’d go out of her way to hurt me like that. We were friends, good friends. I cried myself to sleep after that argument we had in homeroom,” Nova says, a single tear running down her cheek.
“She wasn’t really your friend, Princess. She just used you as a stepping-stone to popularity, and now she thinks you’re out of the way, she’s trying to take your throne,” I say, taking a step closer to her, my hands itching to pull her to me.
“If she wants it that badly, let her have it,” Nova screams, pulling her hand free from Emmy’s grip and wrapping her arms around herself. “Let her have it. Let her be the one they all gossip about. Let her be the one they all hate but pretend to like. If I’d known it meant that much to her, I would have walked away. Why would she do this?”
Unable to resist any longer, I take a long stride forward and pull her to me, cradling her against my chest. “She’s a weak, pathetic little bitch and I’m going to make her pay for this.” I promise.
“No,” Nova says, pushing away from me, quickly wiping the tears that have escaped from her eyes. “No more. She pushes, we push. She hurts me, I hurt her. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be popular; I never have. If she wants it so bad, let her take the job I never asked for in the first place. When I go back to school, I’ll just be Nova, not Nova the Scion or whatever they call us, not Nova the popular girl; just Nova the girl who had a meltdown then faded into the background.”
Lifting my hand, I run my knuckles along her cheek. “One problem with that, Princess.”
“What?” she asks, lifting her sad eyes to mine.
“You couldn’t fade into the background if you tried.”
My skin is tingling from where his knuckles brushed along my cheek and I want to go to him and press myself against his body. But I don’t know why I’m seeking him for comfort. Since we met, he hasn’t offered me support; he isn’t a friend or my boyfriend. Yet now, when I’m tired and sad and broken, all I want to do is wrap myself into his arms and let the quiet he brings swallow me.
I’m in my home: the place I feel safest, the place I am always myself and never have to hide. I’m surrounded by my family, by all the support I could ever want, and yet, I still want him. What’s wrong with me? I’m mad at him, I really am. I don’t trust him. I still don’t entirely believe that his motives are pure, but I just don’t seem to be able to quit him.
Valentine isn’t happiness. He’s anguish and torment, and yet when he touches me it’s the realest thing I’ve ever encountered. When there are no words, no lies or bullshit; when it’s just him and me and no one’s watching, it’s real, and right now that’s what I need.
Reaching for his hand, I wrap my fingers around his wrist and tug. His head lifts and he looks at me quizzically. But I don’t speak. I don’t tell him what I want or how I feel; he doesn’t deserve to know. He’s used me to his own confusing ends for weeks and now even thought I shouldn’t, I want to be selfish.
“I need to talk to him, then I’m going to take a nap and try to forget about all of this for a while,” I say to my brother, glancing quickly at the others before I turn and head for the stairs. I don’t release Valentine and he follows me silently into my room.
When his feet cross the threshold, I release my hold on him and move to close and lock the door behind us. Without saying a word, I push down my sweatpants, kicking them to the side as his eyes watch me like I’m the rarest most fascinating thing in the world. I’m only wearing my cropped jersey and tiny panties as I rise up onto my tiptoes and press my lips against his.
Soft full lips meet mine and I let out a tiny moan when he kisses me back, his tongue sliding into my mouth and brushing along mine. One of his hands touches my hip, sliding around my back, then pulling me closer until my breasts are plastered against his chest, my nipples pebbled and sensitive.
His kiss pushes away all of my sadness. It pushes away all of the drama, expectation and anger and all I’m left with is sensation and want. Not releasing his lips, I find his arm with my hand, then slide down until my fingers touch his. He moves to link our hands together, but that’s not what I want, so I wrap my fingers around his palm and pull his hand between us, settling it between my legs where I’m hot and wet and needy.
I’m using him and he knows it. But right now, I need something to anchor me, to take the edge off the chaotic feeling that’s coursing through my body.
“Nova,” he warns, separating himself from my lips only long enough to growl my name, before he claims my mouth again.
Tearing my lips from his, I lock eyes with him panting and feral. I stare into his desire filled depths, refusing to drop his gaze as I reach for his hand and this time slide both of our fingers into my panties. “You owe me this,” I rasp.
His eyes shutter for a minute and I hold my breath, dreading him refusing, leaving. But I shouldn’t have worried. Heat bursts to life in his eyes and a hard smile spreads across his lips.
“Get on the bed, Princess.”
I don’t rush. Instead I slowly step away, letting our fingers slide out of my panties and moving backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed and I slowly lower myself to the mattress. He follows, stalking me, crawling over me until I’m lying flat on my back with him hovering above me, his jeans straining at the crotch.
My fingers itch to reach for him, but I don’t. I wait with bated breath as he slides my panties over my hips revealing my sex inch by inch. His head lowers and he captures my lips with his, kissing me until I’m breathless and squirming beneath him.
He pulls back and I follow him not wanting to let the kiss end. “I’ll do this today, Princess, because you need it and I can see that, but this is the only time. After this, the only way I’ll touch you is if you’re mine.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead he slides down my body and his talented lips and tongue press against my pussy. I arch off the bed, pushing myself closer to his tongue, needing him to lick me, to make me feel the way he did the last time he touched me like this.
Fingers glide up my inner thigh, then slide into me, filling me and causing desire to pool in my stomach. Slowly he pumps in and out. His tongue licks, flicks, and laves at my sex, at my clit, until I’m panting and gasping, my hips moving without thought, seeking more, wanting more.
Heat builds higher with each passing second. His tongue circles my clit and I cry out with pleasure. I pant and gasp as his fingers slide in and out of me, pushing me closer to release, until finally chaotic sensation explodes within me. My ears buzz, my eyes close tightly, and my body clenches, desperately trying to prolong the ecstasy.
When my orgasm eventually fades, a blissful numbness washes over me and my muscles relax. I don’t open
my eyes, unwilling to look at him, to see how he looks; or to feel the inevitable guilt I know is waiting when I admit that I used him to make myself feel better.
Only right now I’m not thinking about him, I’m only thinking about me. Valentine confuses me and as much as I know I need to, I’m not ready to think about him, or really deal with how he behaved toward me or why.
I feel the warmth of his lips against my stomach, then the brush of cotton as he slides my panties back into place. He doesn’t speak; what could he say right now that wouldn’t spoil everything?
But I feel when his weight leaves the bed and hear the turn of the lock and the click as he leaves, closing my bedroom door behind him.
Opening my eyes, I stare at my ceiling above me, even now, still full of my post orgasm endorphins I know I shouldn’t have done that, but a part of me just doesn’t care. I want Valentine more than I should.
All of this: him, Brit, school, seeing a shrink; it’s a lot and even though I know I should probably try to make sense of everything I’m feeling for him, I just can’t; not yet anyway. He took from me and today I took from him. It doesn’t make it even, but for the first time I’m at least on the scoreboard.
Curling to my side, I close my eyes again and within minutes I’m asleep. I dream of him and me and wake up more confused than ever. When I go back downstairs, Mom is in the kitchen making dinner. “Where is everyone?”
“Your brothers are in the basement and I sent Emmy and Griffin home. I expect they’ll get more clean clothes and just come back, but at least I tried,” she says with a laugh.
“Brit was the one who set up the video.”