Beyond Vengeance: Pacific Prep #3

by R. A. Smyth

  I couldn’t even tell you the last time I just sat and scrolled through various television channels. Watching TV wasn’t something we ever had the opportunity to do at the compound. Occasionally they would put on a movie as a reward, but it was once a year at best. After I managed to escape, I mostly lived on the streets for the few weeks before starting here. There were a couple nights when I sprung for a motel that sometimes came with a TV, but for the most part, I had to conserve every penny I had. It took me over a year to save that money and get everything in place for my big escape. I couldn’t just throw it away for the sake of a hard, lumpy bed for a night.

  Leaning back against the cushions, my whole body relaxes as I get engrossed in a crime show where some woman has been murdered and the detectives are running around in circles trying to figure out who did it. It’s painfully obvious the guy killed his wife; how the police can’t see that is beyond me.

  Although, whoever the producer is of the show, clearly didn’t know anything about what happens when you slit someone's throat. The best way is to stand behind the person. That way, you have the necessary force to pull your knife through their throat. It’s no easy job cutting through all that skin, muscle, and cartilage, especially if you want to be sure they’re going to bleed out quickly and not gain a second lease on life for long enough to call the police after you’ve gone. Plus, it stops you getting completely saturated in blood which is always a win.

  But by the looks of things, the guy on this TV show barely more than grazed the dead woman, and the angle of the wound is all wrong for someone of his height. It’s laughable how inaccurate it all is.

  My stomach grumbles as the show comes to an end a half hour later—they caught the guy eventually, but what took me two minutes to piece together took them the whole forty-five-minute episode to figure out.

  When my stomach grumbles again, I realize I’m not going to be able to wait until breakfast, and decide a raid of the guys’ pantry is in order. It’s already bad enough that I have to sit and be gawked at every morning while I eat my breakfast. If I go in there hungry and someone pisses me off, it will only cause more problems that none of us need.

  Chapter 10

  Maybe it’s knowing that Hadley is currently asleep mere feet away from me; that only a thin wall separates me from her, but I’m awake at the ass crack of fucking dawn. I toss and turn for a while before eventually giving up and deciding I may as well get up, throwing on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before leaving my room.

  As I walk into the kitchen, I come to a stop, watching Hadley as she bends down to reach into a cupboard, her firm ass in the air, acting like a red flag to a bull as my dick hardens in my sweats.

  I stand and watch her—something that has become my norm—unable to keep my eyes off of her. It doesn’t matter if she’s just sitting and studying, interacting with the guys or full on fucking them. Apparently, I’ve turned into a complete fucking pervert and will watch her do just about anything.

  I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve jerked myself off to the image of her fucking Mason while West stood behind her, pulling on her hair. It’s the hottest thing I’ve seen since I watched her come all over my dick—the second most commonly played video in my spank bank.

  She doesn’t notice me as she lifts a bowl out of the cupboard, standing upright. The only thing she’s wearing is an oversized t-shirt that barely covers her ass—most likely West’s, if the banging of his headboard against our adjoining wall is any indication of who she spent the night with.

  I’m happy for him. I know West has had issues in the past when it comes to girls and sex, so if he can find someone he can be himself with in the bedroom, then that’s great, but that doesn’t mean I’m not jealous as fuck.

  The way the top clings to the curves of her ass makes her look absolutely fuckable, and despite me mentally berating my dick to calm the fuck down, it’s as hard as a fucking rock in my pants. Not an uncommon occurrence when Hadley’s around, but it’s sure as fuck not comfortable, and jerking off to the image of her is a shitty substitute for the real thing.

  I don’t even remember moving, but the next thing I know, I’m standing beside the island in the kitchen, close enough that the overwhelming scent of her washes over me, flooding my senses. The combination of vanilla, honey, and sex is intoxicating, and my mouth waters at the thought of tasting her again, my dick twitching to remind me of his presence and making sure I haven’t forgotten about him and his needs.

  As if I could forget how fucking much I want to be buried balls deep in that tight pussy, having her scream my name as her juices drip down my dick.

  Sensing someone behind her, she spins to face me, her fists clenched tightly as though she was about to hit me. Why does that only make my dick strain harder to get to her? I’m on the verge of coming in my pants like a fucking virgin.

  Her eyes widen in surprise and she drops her fists.

  “What are you doing creeping up on me?” she snaps, but there’s no heat behind her words.

  “Sorry,” I mumble distractedly, my attention caught on where her nipples are peaking through her shirt. Is she as turned on as I am right now?

  I don’t know if she can read something in my expression, or see the obvious fucking hard on in my pants, but her pupils dilate.

  “Cam?” Her voice is breathy. There is so much confusion, hesitation, and heat in that one word. I can’t blame her for being confused and unsure. Ever since I opened my fat mouth and said her name in the dining hall, everything’s been so fucked up. I can’t believe I was so stupid as to think that wouldn’t change things. How did I not see that that’s the last thing she would have wanted? I was so busy thinking about claiming her publicly and showing her off so every other asshole in this place would know to keep their hands off her, that I didn’t think about what she wanted.

  Her tongue flicks out to run along her lower lip. There’s no way she doesn’t feel whatever the fuck this is between us, right? Even when I was furious with her, wanting to bury her ten feet under, thinking she was fucking my father, I still couldn’t ignore how much I fucking wanted her.

  But despite how intense this chemistry is between us, she still shouldn’t want anything to do with me. After what I did to her…What my father has done to her. The same blood runs through my veins as is in his. It’s no longer bright red and flowing, but black and sluggish, like tar. It’s sick and tainted, poisoned by generations of malicious hate and greed. The Rutherford blood is infected. I’m infected. Diseased to the fucking core. I should come with a fucking hazard sign.

  “Stop it,” she snaps, somehow able to tell my thoughts are spiraling out of control. “I’m sick of watching you drown yourself in self-hatred.”

  “You would too if your family was as heinous as mine.”

  She steps toward me, closing the distance between us.

  “You can’t be held responsible for anyone’s actions but your own.” Her tone is soft yet insistent, and I can see the truth of her words in her eyes. “As for your own actions…you have to learn to live with them. I’ve already forgiven you, but you have to forgive yourself.”

  “I don’t…” I trail off, sighing while I shake my head. “How?” I don’t know how to move on from what I did. I don’t understand how she can forgive me. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing within me worthy of forgiveness.

  “I have done far worse shit than you can ever imagine,” she murmurs. “The reasons behind your actions are what matter. Yours came from a place of pain; mine were for survival. We do what we have to, to scratch out some sort of existence for ourselves, and hope we can live with the consequences of our decisions. You need to learn to accept everything that’s happened and move forward with your life. It doesn’t do you, or anyone else, any good to drown in it all.”

  While there’s sorrow in her eyes, it’s clear, whatever she’s done, she doesn’t regret her actions. I find it impossible to believe her though. Sure, she’s probably had to do some fu
cked up shit to get by, and who can blame her? But there’s no way it can be as bad as what our parents are involved in; what my father has done to her. Just like I don’t fully believe she came here to kill me. They’re just words she’s said to try and make me feel better, to try and ease my guilt, and while I appreciate her effort, it’s not necessary.

  She reaches out, linking our fingers together, her palm resting on the back of mine. “I can think of much better things we could be doing with our time, instead of hating on one another,” she whispers in a low, seductive purr, glancing up at me through her eyelashes, a coy smile dancing along her luscious lips.

  She slowly directs our hands toward the hem of her shirt, using her hold to place my hand over her pussy so I’m cupping it.

  I groan at finding her naked and my fingertips instinctively curl, sliding through her wetness, eliciting a moan from the back of my throat. She’s fucking soaked already, and I can’t remember ever needing someone the way I ache for her. My balls are blue and ready to fall off, not the slightest bit impressed at having been denied her sweetness for so long.

  She pushes against my fingers until I curl them upward, both her fingers and mine sliding into her tight channel. Her lips part on a breathy gasp, and I stare transfixed at the glisten of moisture on her lower lip as I slide deeper into her, feeling her walls spasm around us.

  I want this—her—so badly, but disbelief that she could want me after everything stills my fingers inside of her, even as my dick practically screams my ear off for putting a stop to this when he was so close to getting where he’s been dying to go for months.

  “You already have the others. Why would you need me?”

  Her eyes dart back and forth between mine, a rare vulnerability taking over her features. She walks around with walls so high and thick nothing could break through them, but right now she’s letting me see a part of herself she doesn’t show many people. In fact, when I think back to her wary, barbed wire attitude when she first arrived at Pac, I’m not sure she let anyone get close to her before she showed up here.

  “None of them are you,” she says in a quiet whisper, looking deep into my eyes and letting me see just how much she means what she says. “You constantly remind me of what I’ve been fighting for. When I found the strength to escape Lawrence, my entire focus was on survival, but you’ve shown me what it’s like to live. The nights we spent in the dining hall, when you told me about everything you and the guys used to get up to when you were kids, it made me realize what I’d been missing my whole life. I craved that sense of belonging, of having friendships, and feeling that deep-seated loyalty the four of you share.

  “You were the first one to see me. To make me laugh and forget about the dark past I was running from and the uncertain future I was heading toward. With you, I was able to just live in the moment and enjoy it.

  “I miss that. I miss you. I miss the way your touch burns my skin and ignites a fire in my soul. I want to feel that again. I don’t want to go another day without you.”

  Well, fuck me raw and piss on my grave. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

  There’s nothing I can say. Nothing I can do except give her exactly what she wants. With my fingers still deep in her pussy, I flex them, pressing against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Removing the last bit of distance between us, my chest pushes against hers as I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, drawing her toward me.

  I slant my lips over hers, swallowing her moan of pleasure when I press my thumb against her clit. Her small hands fist the front of my t-shirt as I pump my fingers in and out of her, repeatedly gliding over her G-spot until I feel her clenching around me, her soft cries driving me on.

  “Cam,” she pants in a half plea-half moan just before she finds her release, her juices running down my hand while I continue to finger-fuck her through her orgasm.

  As her scent permeates the air around her, I lose myself to my basic needs. Carnal hunger takes control as I wrap my hands around her thighs, lifting her up onto the island.

  She gasps as her bare ass hits the cold marble and I fist the bottom of her t-shirt, tearing it over her head and exposing her to me. Her nipples harden in the cool air of the room, and I dip my head, licking her areola before sucking her nipple into my mouth, biting teasingly on the sensitive skin.

  I push against her chest until she’s lying flat on the island, staring up at me with half-lidded eyes, her pupils blown with desire. Her breaths come in rapid pants that make her tits bounce up and down in the most inviting way.

  Fuck, I want to stick my dick between them and come all over her chest.

  But I want to taste her more. I’ve been fucking dreaming about eating her out again. I swear, some mornings I’ve woken up with the lingering taste of her on my tongue.

  Pushing her thighs apart, I lick my lips as I devour her glistening pink pussy with my eyes. She’s so fucking wet, the evidence from her last orgasm still coating her folds.

  Lifting her legs so they rest on my shoulders, I lower my head between her milky thighs, nibbling on the soft skin until she’s a writhing mess beneath me.

  Only when she’s practically begging for it do I push my tongue between her drenched pussy lips, moaning against her skin as I lap up her juices. When I place my lips over her clit, sucking it into my mouth, her hands thread through my hair, smooshing my face against her pussy, and I inhale her scent. She smells like the best wet dream. All dirty sex and carnal desire.

  “Fuck, Cam,” she moans, grinding against me as I slide my tongue down her slit until I push it inside of her.

  With one hand wrapped around her thigh, I use my other one to undo the drawstring of my sweats, shoving them and my boxers down my thighs until I can free my cock. Gripping my length, I give it a few quick pumps, groaning in pleasure and causing her to moan at the vibration.

  Her hands tighten in my hair and she tugs on the strands, pulling my head back.

  “You’re fucking amazing at that,” she pants, “but I need your dick in me. Now.”

  Yes, ma’am.

  I don’t waste a second shucking out of my sweats and boxers, as I pull my top over my head.

  The height of the island has her swollen pussy lined up perfectly with my throbbing dick, and I don’t give a single fuck about how unhygienic all of this is as I push inside of her.

  The feel of her wrapped around me has my balls tingling and I’m close to spilling my load already, but there’s no fucking way I’m coming so soon. I focus on reciting the months of the year backward until the feeling subsides, and only then do I dare pull back until only the tip of my dick is left inside her.

  I can feel her clenching, as if trying to stop me from pulling out, and I smirk down at her as she gazes up at me in a blissed-out haze before I slam all the way in.

  Her mouth drops open on a silent gasp as I repeatedly hit that magical spot inside her until I feel her spasm around me, and her head tilts back, eliciting a scream from her.

  I hope Hawk isn’t around to hear that or I’ll be getting an earful later—totally worth it though!

  I continue to pound into her as she gushes all over my dick, until my balls draw up and I find my own release, grunting as I come.

  “Fuck, that was way better than I remember,” I groan, leaning down and kissing her as she chuckles breathily against my lips.

  “Let’s not wait so long to do it again.” Her voice is raspy, her cheeks flushed, and she looks royally fucked. Just looking at her has my dick twitching within her, and we both groan before I reluctantly pull out. I doubt we’d get a second round uninterrupted. I’m surprised no one has disturbed us already, and I don’t really want Hawk to tear my balls off for fucking his sister on the kitchen counter.

  I’m handing Hadley her top and pulling up my sweats when West’s voice takes us by surprise.

  “About time,” he quips, leaning against the kitchen doorway in his perfectly pressed uniform. How long was that asshole watching us? I can’t
get a read on his expression as he pushes off the doorframe, clapping me on the shoulder as he walks past. Moving in front of Hadley, he plants a heated kiss on her lips. He doesn’t appear to be the slightest bit bothered by the fact I just fucked his girlfriend.

  Hadley smiles into their kiss.

  “Morning,” he murmurs against her lips, sounding like a sappy idiot. What the fuck has this girl done to all of us?

  “Morning.” She smiles at him before jumping down from the counter. “I’m going to go shower.” With a final, lingering look my way, she walks out of the room, leaving me feeling awkward as fuck as I blatantly ignore West’s gaze drilling into the side of my head.

  “So, that happened.”

  “Yup,” I respond dismissively, grabbing food out of the fridge to make omelets for breakfast and putting on a fresh pot of coffee for everyone. I’m the only one who knows how to cook. There wasn’t exactly a lot to do growing up and when I wasn’t with the guys, I’d be bored out of my mind. One day, I accidentally flicked onto the cooking channel and thought it would be a laugh to give it a go. After setting off the smoke alarm and somehow managing to start a small fire in the pan, our housekeeper agreed to help me, so long as I promised to never attempt anything when she wasn’t around.

  After that rocky start, I quickly discovered an enjoyment in the process. It was a great distraction when my dad was being even more of a prick than usual, or when none of the guys were free.

  I don’t cook often—there’s not much of a need when the dining hall is right beside us and you can order food to go from it—but every now and again, I like to immerse myself in it and forget about whatever problems we’re facing—or distract myself from awkward questions and unwanted opinions from West.

  “I’m glad, man. It’s about time you stopped moping around.”

  My eyebrows pull together. “I haven’t been moping,” I argue.

  “Well, whatever you wanna call it, it will be good to have the old Cam back.”

  He squeezes my shoulder before lifting down two mugs and filling them with coffee while I chop the vegetables and go about making us all breakfast with a bit more pep in my step than I’ve had recently. Nothing like morning sex with the girl you can’t stop thinking about to put you in a great mood.