Revenge at Raleigh High

by Hart, Callie

  “Mmm? What is it, Argento. Are you a little…hot and bothered?”

  “No.” She denies it immediately, even though she lets out a small, breathless gasp right after her denial. “I’m just—”

  “You want to be naked. You want me inside you. You want my hands all over your skin.”

  She pants again, a frustrated breath rushing past my ear. “Yes. I think—I think so.”

  I move my hand upward, my fingertips burning a trail over her ribcage until I reach the lacy cup of her bra. She squirms against me, and I chuckle under my breath. “You think…or you know, Silver? I can’t do anything with uncertainties.”

  “I—I know.” I am officially impressed. I never thought she’d be this brave, or this kinky for that matter. I get to my feet, holding out my hand to her, and she looks up at me with confusion in her eyes. “What? Are we leaving?”

  “No, dolcezza. I’m going to give you what you’ve been needing since we came down here. Come on. Come with me.”

  She doesn’t ask questions. Not even when I lead her through the mass of writhing bodies in front of the stage and pull us in the direction of the door that leads to the back rooms. God knows what kind of thoughts are racing through her head. She follows close at my back, wide-eyed as I guide her down a long hallway, passing numerous open doors, and into a large, open space that has been arranged with at least ten king sized beds.

  The stage crowd is tame compared to what’s happening back here. On one of the beds, three couples have all joined forces, stroking and touching each other’s naked bodies. A woman with heavy, swinging, natural tits bounces up and down on top of a guy I’m guessing she didn’t arrive here with tonight, while another guy lying on his back watches them fiercely, stroking his hand up and down his cock. Two of the woman make out, tongues laving and licking at each other’s mouth and necks, while another woman pants and moans against a handrail bolted to the wall, being fucked from behind by a third guy.

  Atop every bed, a similar debauched adventure is taking place, people grinding, and licking, sucking and fucking.

  Silver casts a stunned look around the room, her mouth falling open, the tip of her perfect, pink little tongue darting out to wet her lips as she takes in our new, highly deviant surroundings.

  I stroke her hair back over her shoulder, leaning into her so I can growl roughly into her ear. “How about this? Is this what you want, Argento? Or should we turn around now and head on back upstairs?”

  The black light cast off from the bulbs overhead make her teeth and the whites of her eyes glow green and as she meets my gaze. “I want to try. I wanna see what it feels like to…to be watched.”

  The growl intensifies in the back of my throat. She looks so damned innocent. So fucking delicious and unprepared. I hate that I’m not a better man. I should take her away from here and whisk her away from here immediately, but that’s not what I’m going to do. Her pale eyes are full of determination, which means she wants this. She’s going to be pissed if I deny her. And, damn me to hell, I’m not strong enough to err on the side of sanity tonight. I’ve already imagined her straddling me, riding the shit out of me on top of the bed to our right, and I want it more than I want to be good.

  I draw her into me, bringing my mouth down onto hers, and the softness of her pliant lips against mine coaxes a strained groan out of me. This can’t be fucking real. How can it be? I’m experienced in many things. I’ve fucked girls before. I’ve fucked grown women, who have asked me to do some pretty kinky shit, but I have never done this with anyone. I’m blown away that I’m getting to do it with a girl I have fallen so fucking hard for, even if it might not be the best idea in the world.

  I’m going to take it slow. I’m going to make sure she’s comfortable every step of the way. If she’s unsure even a sec—

  The thought cuts off when Silver pulls back, pausing the kiss, and she rips her shirt off over her head.

  Fuck. Okay. It doesn’t look like she wants to take things slowly.

  I stand back, half amused, half out of my mind with lust as Silver unbuttons her jeans and wriggles them down her hips. She only stops what she’s doing when she’s in her underwear, reaching around behind herself to unfasten her bra. “What’s the matter?” she asks, staring up into my face defiantly. “You coming over all shy, Alessandro Moretti?”

  I feel my lip pull back. I feel myself snarl. I don’t recognize myself right now, and I sure as hell don’t recognize Silver. “You’re fucking magnificent,” I rumble. My hands twitch, desperate to feel the soft, smooth silk of her skin beneath them. God, I wanna make her shiver and quake. I want to hear her panting cries for more over every other girl’s in this room. My leather jacket comes off slow. I drop it at my feet, not giving a shit if it gets lost or stolen. My t-shirt goes next, then my pants. Silver laughs softly as she attempts to remove her bra again, but I grab her savagely by the wrists, shaking my head.

  “Don’t touch yourself. It’s my right to strip you naked, Argento.”

  Her head tips back, and I fall on her like a winter storm. I tear the lace on her bra when I tear it from her. She gasps, fingers digging into my back as I fall to my knees and drag her panties down her body, exposing her to the world, for all to see. She’s off the ground, and I’m carrying her, throwing her down on the empty bed behind us two seconds later.

  There are eyes on us, watching us, feasting on our young, perfect flesh, and it seems to be driving Silver fucking crazy. She arches her back off the bed, rolling her head to one side, watching the couple on the bed closest to us fucking.

  “Alex…Alex…” My name comes out of her like a whispered prayer. “God, Alex, please.”

  She obeys me when I push her legs apart; my brave little Argento, spreading her legs for me, unashamed, opening herself to me in front of thirty other people. She’s fucking beautiful, like a night orchid in full bloom. I palm my dick, positioning myself between her legs, feeling the heat and weight of strangers’ eyes on my back.

  I rub the tip of my cock into Silver’s pussy, applying pressure to her clit, and she angles her hips up toward me, frantically shaking her head.

  “No. No. Just…just fuck me, Alex. Please. God, I need you so fucking bad. Please!”

  I fucking love foreplay. I love it more than the actual sex most of the time, but we are so beyond any of that now.

  I grit my teeth as I push myself inside her, supplying what she needs. She’s so tight around me, hotter and wetter than she’s ever been. I don’t stop thrusting myself into her until I’m balls-deep, and even then she grinds up, rolling her hips, asking me for more. Falling on her, I rock myself forward, hissing when she reaches up and grabs hold of my hair, pulling hard.

  “Harder, Alex. Please. Harder!”

  I oblige her, since she’s begging so nicely.

  Her nails drive deep into my back, making me curse loudly, and my mind goes blank. I’m no longer aware of what drives me, but I answer its call anyway, driving myself into her over again over again, so hard that I can feel her body rock with each impact.

  I love this girl. I love her more than I can comprehend, which is why I bite her when she pleads for me to sink my teeth into her skin. I close my hand around her throat when she pulls on my hands. I do whatever she urges me to, regardless of the fact that it’s too much. Too rough. Too wild. Too raw, and crazy.

  When she comes beneath me, frenzied, slick with our sweat, I don’t care that I’ve broken her skin with my love, and again I’ve made her bleed. It doesn’t matter, because Silver Parisi is slack and dazed from her pleasure and my body is numb from my own.

  It’s not until we’re dressed and leaving the basement of the club that we both notice Jacob Weaving leaning against the wall by the exit, wearing an ugly sneer on his face.

  23

  SILVER

  Thanksgiving comes and goes. Dad invites Alex to stay again for the first time since the storm, and I try and pretend not to notice the fact that Max and Mom aren’t here. As
a family, we have so many dorky holiday traditions that are all pointless without Mom and Max. My mother would never have allowed Alex to sleep in the house, even in the guest room, and my brother was a perfect little monster the last time I saw him, though, so I make the best of the situation.

  Jackie refuses to let Alex see Ben before they take off for Hawaii. He doesn’t mention it, but I know it plays on his mind as the three of us rattle around the big old house, concocting a surprisingly edible thanksgiving dinner between us. Dad cracks truly horrible jokes that make us groan. Nipper gorges himself on turkey, and even lets us pet his distended tummy while he digests his Thanksgiving dinner. He falls asleep on Alex at seven thirty promptly each night.

  In the mornings that follow, Dad and Alex do something really strange. They start running together. Even weirder, they spend an hour after their run locked in the garage together, hitting a punching bag Dad hasn’t used since…well, never. This gives me plenty of time to write music and get ahead on all of my school work, but I don’t get to hang out with Alex until the afternoon, when he’s finally changed out of his sweat-soaked clothes and showered.

  When I first met Alex, I was naturally very worried about how my father was going to take a heavily tattooed, motorcycle-riding bad boy invading my life and claiming every waking moment of my day. Turns out, I should have been more worried about Dad stealing Alex from me. They even seem to have their own secrets and private jokes, all be them heavy disguised as underhanded digs.

  The Wednesday after Thanksgiving, Alex surprises me by sneaking into the shower in my en suite…while I’m in it. He fucks me hard up against the tiles, his hand firm and demanding, mouth hot and wet against my skin, and when he comes, he roars so loud that Dad slam’s the front door and leaves the house.

  Reluctantly, Alex says he has to go back to the trailer after that. He has shifts at the Rock he needs to show up for, and there are other mysterious things he has to take care of over the next couple of days that are going to monopolize most of his time. He won’t tell me what he’s up to, but he seems excited. Energized. It feels like the world’s ending when I kiss him on the doorstep of the house, sulking because I won’t be able to see him again for three more days.

  He laughs at my pouting mouth and over-the-top complaining, but he’s the one who struggles to let go of my hand as he walks away down the driveway.

  Dad does me a solid and doesn’t mention the fact that he definitely heard us having sex when he comes home. He doesn’t mention anything about the fact that Alex is gone either. Two days later, on Friday evening, he stands in my bedroom doorway with a heavy-looking black bag in his hand, face a little grim.

  “Gotta go out for a bit, kiddo,” he says, leaning against the door jamb. “I ordered in some Chinese food for you. Extra Orange Chicken. Should be here in about half an hour. I’m not gonna be back ’til late, probably. No need to wait up for me.”

  I stick a piece of paper inside the book I was reading, marking my place, and then I set it down, eyeing him suspiciously. Black jeans. Black t-shirt. Black jacket. “God, Dad,” I groan. “Please tell me you’re not gonna start dressing like Alex now. It’s great you guys are bonding and all, but this is a little ridiculous, don’t you think?”

  Dad’s eyes widen, his head tipping to one side. “I can’t believe my own child would be so hurtful,” he says theatrically. “The very last thing I’d ever do is mimic your brooding, grumpy boyfriend. Black is a classic look, Silver. You can never go wrong with black. Especially if there are clandestine meetings afoot.”

  “No! Dad! Are you going on a date?”

  “No, no. God no. Never mind. I probably shouldn’t have said that. I have to get going or I’m gonna be late. Don’t forget to listen out for the doorbell, okay?”

  “Dad?”

  He was turning to leave, throwing his words over his shoulder at me as he walked back out onto the landing, but the second I say his name, he stops. “Mmm?”

  “What’s with the bag?”

  “Huh?”

  “The bag. The black one you’re holding in your hand. What’s in it?”

  Dad falters, looking down at the offending article that he indeed is still holding in his hand. “Uhhh, just…books! Just some old architectural books I’m returning to a friend.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Are you lying to me, Father?”

  He nods without hesitation. “Yep. Not proud of it. Hoping we can move on without this being a thing. I have a bag, and it contains a few items that I’m choosing not to tell you about. I’m afraid that’s gonna have to be good enough, kiddo.”

  “They’re not sex toys, are they? Urgh, Dad, you are going on a date!”

  “No! No w—hey, wait. What would be so bad about me going on a date?”

  I pick up my book and open it. “Well, you look like you’re about to break and enter somewhere for starters. And then there’s the matter of the weird facial hair you’re still cultivating. If you are planning on trying to romance any new prospects soon, you should probably let me take you shopping—”

  I look up from my book; the doorway to my bedroom is empty. The mere mention of shopping has always had my father sprinting in the opposite direction as fast as he can humanly manage. I think all of that running with Alex this week is paying off, though. The old man’s exits have become infinitely faster.

  24

  ALEX

  “She said I looked like I was about to go break and enter, for fuck’s sake.”

  I clench my jaw, pulling up my hood against the cold. We’ve been planning for days, making contingencies in case something comes up, organizing meeting points in case we’re separated, and it seemed like we had our bases covered. Cameron hasn’t stopped freaking out since he arrived fifteen minutes ago, though, and I’m already trying to come up with a way to make him stay in the fucking car. The last thing we need is him losing his shit in the middle of this and blowing our cover.

  “Just because she said that’s what you looked like doesn’t mean she knew that’s what you were gonna do. Everything’s fine. Look, if you want to go home—”

  “No way. Not happening. Just pass me the flashlight. I’m not going anywhere. Jesus, at least if I’m here and we do get caught, we’ll have some credibility. Who’s going to believe that you were just passing through the neighborhood and accidentally found yourself inside Caleb Weaving’s pool house?”

  “I fail to see how your presence gives us credibility,” I argue. “What brilliant excuse would you have for us being inside Caleb Weaving’s pool house?”

  He grumbles under his breath. “I’m a respected member of the community. I designed the mayor’s house, for fuck’s sake. I’m on the town planning committee. I’m sure whatever I came up with would be more plausible than, ‘I got lost and the door was open.”

  “All right, Poindexter. Why don’t you work on that in your head while I figure out how we’re going to get around the side of the house without setting off those perimeter lights?”

  The Weaving residence is a monstrosity—a disgusting show of wealth and power presented in the gaudiest manner imaginable. Cam pretended to throw up in his mouth when I killed the engine of the Impala Monty loaned me. “Who tries to combine baroque facias with art deco window casements anyway?” he’d mumbled. I was more offended that the place was painted a pale bubblegum pink color and sticks out amongst the gathered trees like a thumb that isn’t just sore but has also had a hammer taken to it. The ugliest, most expensive home I have ever fucking seen. Leon Wickman’s place was probably almost as costly, but that building was designed with finesse, married with an understanding and appreciation for nature. The sprawling Weaving manor is just a fucking mess.

  “There’ll be a mains box somewhere near that tree over there,” Cam says, pointing. “There’s an electrical box just underneath that window, too. See it? We don’t want to cut any of the wiring. That’ll scream foul play if someone comes across it. We can just—”

  I get out of the
car, making sure the door doesn’t slam closed behind me. I can’t sit and listen. I can’t just fucking sit anymore. I’ve waited long enough. When Monty said I had five days to come and cleave my pound of flesh from Jacob Weaving’s body before the cops came and carted him away, I did what I thought was right. I dismissed the suggestion out of hand. If justice was finally going to be served, then me showing up in the middle of the night to hurt the fucker would be pure, unadulterated, selfish vengeance. That decision stuck in my throat. Staying my hand felt like a missed opportunity to wreak chaos in the bastard’s life, but it had also felt, I don’t know, like I was growing up. Becoming a better man or some shit. And then he went and tried to drag her into the boy’s locker rooms, like he thought he could still do whatever the fuck he felt like and get away with it, regardless of the fact that I’m in Silver’s life now, and that? That altered my perspective. That brazen, fucked up act changed my mind so quickly, it nearly gave me fucking whiplash. No way was I was going to be able to stay my hand when I laid eyes on those bruises around her throat. I no longer had a choice.

  Juvie’s bad. Prison is worse. A strange code of honor exists between most inmates inside penitentiaries. Armed robbery; assault; theft; even fucking murder: there’s a vast litany of crimes that can land you behind the bars of a cell, and your indiscretion usually won’t matter to the guy you end up bunking with. But rape? Pedophilia? Those are two sins that’ll usually land you in the prison infirmary for a very, very long time. Repeatedly.

  Jake’s not going to enjoy his time at Monroe or Cedar Creek. Whichever prison they send him to, it doesn’t matter. It’s going to be a living hell on earth for him. But it’s not enough, damn it. The moment he laid his hands on Silver again, I knew no punishment was going to suffice unless I administered it fucking personally. I’ve been fighting the urge to wait until tonight to come over here. Every night, it’s been tempting as fuck to sneak over here without Cam and leave a mark or two of my own on Jacob, but I’ve held back shown restraint.