Broken Trust : Pacific Prep

by R. A. Smyth

  “Yeah. I mean, I always thought he was cute, but we’ve only ever been friends. I didn’t know he was interested in me like that.”

  “Girl, he’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to be interested in you,” I say, bumping my shoulder against hers. “You’re awesome.”

  Chapter 12

  Dumping my bag on a spare table in the library, I pull out my tablet and workbook, ready to get stuck into yet another night of studying. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear they were trying to kill us through sleep deprivation. How does everyone else manage this workload?

  Wrapping up my history homework, I move on to the next English assignment Cam and I have that is due next week. We need to compare and contrast two books from our reading list. Already knowing what book I want to use, I get up and go in search of it, walking amongst the stacks until I find the aisle I’m looking for, pausing when I see West blocking my way as he scans the shelves in front of him.

  I’m honestly not sure what to make of him. He’s been a lifesaver, helping me with computer science, but we never talk about anything personal so, despite us spending an hour a week together, I don’t feel like I know him at all. He’s quiet and nerdy, more interested in his studies than girls and social etiquette, yet I’ve seen that same flash of violence that Hawk and Mason, and even Cam, have.

  Pretending he’s not there, I saunter down the aisle in search of the book I’m looking for, ignoring when he notices my presence, his head turning slightly as he watches me approach. Finding it on the top shelf, I stretch up onto my toes, but I don’t have a hope of reaching it. Glancing around for a stool or ladder or something, I see absolutely nothing. How the hell do other students get books on the top shelf?

  Eyeing the bookcase, I figure I can easily climb up and grab the book. Wedging the tip of my boot in a gap on a low shelf, I haul myself up, until I’m several shelves off the ground and can grab a hold of the top shelf. With my free hand, I reach out to pluck the book, but just as my fingers touch the spine, my boot slips and I lose my footing.

  “Aah.” A small gasp escapes at the sudden movement, my hand instinctively clasping tighter around the shelf as I slide down the bookcase. Before I can regain my footing, an arm winds round my waist, catching me before I hit the ground, pulling me in against a hard, warm body.

  “What are you doing?” a gravelly, breathy voice whispers in my ear. Holy shit, does he normally sound so irresistible? His voice belongs in an audiobook. It would have women everywhere panting. The timber alone has me close to orgasm.

  “I needed a book,” I respond, my own voice coming out husky.

  West stretches above me, keeping one arm wrapped around me as his tall frame and long arm enables him to effortlessly reach the top shelf with his free hand. The move has him towering over me even more, penning me in, enveloping me in his clean, musky scent. His nearness is scrambling my brain, though, doing all sorts of stupid things to it.

  “This one?” he asks, the rumble in his chest making my panties damp as it vibrates through me. I’m not capable of doing anything other than nodding as he grabs the book I was after, lifting it down.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, taking the book from him. He holds on to it for another moment, neither of us moving. I can feel his breath on my cheek as he dips his head, inhaling the smell of my shampoo.

  “You’re welcome,” he eventually whispers, slowly sliding his palm across my abdomen, like he’s putting off letting go of me. But that would be crazy, right? Giving my hip a final squeeze, he steps away, the cold air replacing his heat at my back. I hear his footsteps as he walks off, but I don’t look around, trying to calm my racing heart rate and understand what the hell just happened.

  By the time I make it back to the study area, Cam has arrived, his stuff spread out over the table I was sitting at. As I head toward him, I scan my eyes around the room, searching for West or the other Pricks, but I don’t see any of them. Strange.

  “Hey,” I greet, settling back into my chair, finding Cam reading through the few notes I’ve taken in my notebook.

  “Why do you write it down in your notebook first, instead of using the tablet? It’ll take you twice as long to do the assignment that way.” Cam laughs. Things have come a long way since we were handed our first assignment. Don’t get me wrong, he still spends most of our time together flirting and driving me to distraction, but it’s different than before, and I’ve let go of my anger over the first party of the school year. I’d say we’re almost...friends? Maybe? I’m not sure you could put a name on what we are. People-who-are-friendly-but-also-have-an-insane-sexual-attraction-to-one-another? Hmm, that’s a bit wordy.

  “Because it takes too long to write it on the tablet,” I tell him. “By the time I’ve written a sentence, I’ve forgotten where I was going with it. At least this way, I get it all down while it’s in my head, then I can just copy it across.”

  He shakes his head, rolling his eyes like I’m deliberately being difficult. “If you actually tried, you’d get better at it.”

  “Why?” I argue. “No one in the real world uses that crap. It’s all pen and paper beyond these hallowed halls of yours.”

  Holding up his hands in defeat, he concedes. “Do it your way.”

  We settle down to work after that, getting an outline and draft written for our assignment. It’s late by the time we finish up and, glancing around, it appears we’re the last ones left in the library. I lean over the desk to grab my things and put them in my bag when a presence behind me has me straightening and spinning around. Cam is standing right in front of me, his tall frame towering over me. I have to tilt my head back so I can see his face, the move bringing our lips within inches of each other.

  “You’re killing me, you know,” Cam murmurs, his eyes roaming over my face, the brown flecks of his irises holding me captive. “I can’t tell if you like me, or if you seriously think we’re just friends. There’s no way you don’t feel this tension between us, right?” He lifts my hand, placing it on his chest so I can feel his heart hammering against his rib cage. “Do you feel what you do to me?” As though the racing of his heart beneath my palm isn’t enough, he rests his hand on my hip, the pads of his fingers pressing into my skin as he grinds his hard cock against my thigh. The action has my chest heaving, heat coiling in my lower abdomen. “Do I do the same to you?”

  My mouth is too dry, my head too fuzzy, my senses intoxicated with his apple and lotus scent. I can’t think past the feel of his hard body pressed against mine, his dick grinding so close to where I need him most. He places his palm over my chest, as though needing to feel for himself just how badly he affects me, before slowly sliding it up until his thumb rests over the pulse in my neck, likely feeling it thumping beneath his fingertip.

  His eyes dart between my eyes and my lips, as I watch him intently, waiting on tenterhooks to see what his next move is. I can no longer deny that I need to know what his lips feel like pressed against mine. That voice in my head, telling me this is a bad idea, that it’s a line I shouldn’t cross, is barely more than a whisper at this point.

  I see it when he makes his decision, his hand sliding around the back of my neck, his thumb pressed against the underside of my chin, tilting my head as his lips brush over mine in a barely there kiss, testing the waters.

  I gasp at the contact, that small touch affecting me more than any kiss has before. Our lips meet again, more firmly this time, his tongue flicking out to run along my lower lip. Opening beneath him, his tongue dips into my mouth, gliding slowly over mine. Everything about him is unhurried, deliberate, like he’s thought about this a thousand times, and now that it’s happening, he’s going to savor every moment.

  He pushes his hips against mine, leaning over me, pressing me into the table until I’m perched on the edge. My fingers thread through his short, soft strands as I pull him harder against me, every lustful feeling I’ve been trying to ignore rising to the surface.

  He wedges himself between my l
egs, his hands slipping up my bare thighs until they dip under my skirt, his fingers trailing along the lining of my panties. My hips tilt up, telling him exactly where I need him. I feel him smile lasciviously into the kiss, his hand dipping between my legs. His fingers graze along the front of my panties before his thumb presses on my bundle of nerves, making me gasp into his mouth.

  “Mmm, baby, you’re so damn wet for me.”

  Pushing my panties aside, he slides his fingers through my pussy lips, pushing them inside of me. I pull my lips from his, my head falling back as I moan, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He moves to run his lips down my neck as his fingers expertly slide in and out of me, curling so he hits that perfect spot every time.

  It doesn’t take long until I’m a panting mess beneath him. Just when I think I’m about to combust under his touch, he pulls out of me. I growl at the sudden emptiness, but he simply gives me a coy smirk as he pushes my legs further apart, getting to his knees in front of me. Fuck, staring down at him kneeling in front of me, it’s breathtaking. I feel powerful, like a fucking goddess he’s about to worship with his hot mouth.

  He stares up at me, his tongue flicking out, circling my clit. “Holy hell,” I breathe, bucking against him. I press my hands flat against the table behind me, leaning back as he flattens his tongue, pressing it firmly against my already sensitive bundle. I can feel the familiar coiling in my stomach as he pushes two fingers inside of me once again, this time setting a faster rhythm that his tongue easily meets.

  “Cam,” I moan, just as that coiling in my stomach explodes, fire running through my veins until my fingers and toes tingle with a tantalizing orgasm.

  He laps up every drop before fixing my panties and pulling down my skirt, leaning over me, pressing his lips to mine. I can taste myself on him as he pushes his tongue between my lips, entangling it with mine, our combined taste flooding my mouth.

  “I knew you’d taste fucking delicious.”

  We don’t hang around for long after that, quickly grabbing our things and heading out. As we reach the door, I glance back, checking I didn’t leave anything on the table when movement out of the corner of my eye grabs my attention. My heart skips a beat at the thought Cam just went down on me and someone was around to hear it, but when I glance toward the movement, my breath catches in my throat, my eyes widening as they meet West’s. It would be impossible to miss his heated stare or the hard on in his pants as his gaze holds me frozen in place. Something passes between us. It’s nothing like the usual calmness I feel in his presence. It’s hot and energetic, palpable in the air between us. Before I can think too much about it, Cam calls my name, breaking the moment between us. Pulling my gaze from him, my mind is a jumbled mess of questions as I distractedly follow Cam outside.

  ***

  The next night, I’m in Emilia’s room as she gets ready to go on a date with Andrew. He asked her out last weekend and she’s been talking non-stop about it since.

  “What’s going on with you and Cam?” she blurts out, her gaze focused on the mirror as she does her makeup.

  “What do you mean?”

  Turning to look at me, she lifts an eyebrow, silently saying, are you serious?

  “Nothing.” I shrug, ignoring the tingling between my legs from our library session yesterday. That was so fucking hot and I’m more than ready for round two.

  “Look.” She sighs, turning around, giving me a serious look. “I’m only bringing it up because the others have noticed and, well, they're worried.”

  With furrowed brows, I ask, “Why?”

  “Because we make a point of staying out of their way, of keeping our heads down and just getting on with the workload. It’s an unwritten rule that we don’t get in their way and they won’t make life difficult for us. But you’re breaking all the rules.”

  “I…” I begin, not even sure how I was going to argue with that. She cuts me off anyway by raising an eyebrow.

  “He’s been hitting on you since the first day, and now you’re telling us you’re friends? But the Princes don’t do friends, and Cam definitely doesn’t do friends with girls.”

  My silence says everything to her. I never told her about my late night chats with Cam, but based on the hurt in her eyes, I should have said something. I tried to bring it up a time or two, but every time, I couldn’t get the words past my lips. I’m not used to having a girlfriend or talking about this stuff. It’s not natural for me to just tell other people about my private life.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, guilt hitting me hard.

  She waves me away, finishing up with her makeup and coming to sit beside me on the bed. “It’s fine. Forget about it. I know you’re a private person. I copped on pretty quickly that you don’t like to talk about yourself. Do I wish you felt like you could have told me? Hell yes, but I can’t be pissed at you just because it’s not your nature to share things. Now, how do I look?”

  She jumps up, doing a little twirl in front of me, her purple skirt spinning out. In cute ankle boots and a leather jacket, she looks gorgeous.

  “Andrew’s brain is going to short circuit as soon as he sees you.” I laugh, making her grin wider.

  Shortly after that, she leaves for her date, and I head out to the gym to work out my frustrations, running myself ragged before calling it a night. Flicking off the light switch, I exit the gym, finally feeling relaxed for the first time all day. How come it takes me to be so physically exhausted I can barely walk or think straight to feel at ease?

  I’m slowly dandering up the path toward the dormitories when movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. It’s well after midnight, no one else should be out here. Hell, I shouldn’t even be out here right now.

  The lights along the path turn off at midnight—some sort of stupid notion that students are unlikely to stay out until all hours of the night if there are no lights on the path—so it’s pitch black out, but I can see the faint shadow of people moving amongst the trees.

  Pausing, I stop and watch, seeing silhouettes flitter amongst the treeline as students in pairs, or individually, slip into the forest. Confused about where they could be going, I stand stock still in the middle of the darkened path until I don’t see any more movement, then I abandon my plan of heading back to my room and instead make a beeline to where the other students disappeared amongst the trees, curiosity getting the better of me.

  Reaching them, I slip into the forest, moving carefully over the uneven terrain. What the hell are people doing out here in the middle of the night? Most parties are thrown in the dorms or down by the lake, and I hadn’t heard anything about a party going on tonight.

  I traipse through the dark, silent forest for several minutes before noise up ahead draws my attention. Moving closer, light starts to filter through the trees and I can hear people cheering. Huh, maybe it is a party.

  A clearing opens up in front of me and I can see a crowd of boys forming a large circle in the middle of it. Someone has strategically placed flashlights amongst the crowd, providing an eerie glow and casting shadows that make the whole scene appear macabre.

  Another roar goes up from the crowd, and, peering through the bodies, I can just about make out two boys in the middle of the circle. Both of them are topless and covered in sweat as one of them helps the other to his feet. One kid has a cut above his eyebrow and if I squint, I think I can make out bloody knuckles. Is this some sort of amateur fight club? How rich kid of them.

  The cheers from the crowd die down as Hawk raises his hand in the air. For the first time, I notice the four of them standing at the far end of the circle. I don’t know how I missed them initially. They somehow tower over the other students, their demanding presence and steely aura drawing everyone's attention.

  Mason strides forward into the makeshift ring in only a pair of boxing shorts. His head is held high, confidence oozing from every step. And why shouldn’t he be confident? He’s by far the largest guy in our year. He could break some of the s
crawnier ones in half without breaking a sweat. No one immediately steps forward to challenge him and, as he surveys the crowd, some of them even take a step back.

  “Don’t make me pick one of you pussies,” he bellows.

  After another moment’s tense silence, someone steps forward. I can’t initially make out who it is, but with another step, the lights glances off his face and I get a clear look. Deke. Of course it is. After the verbal beat down West gave him at the party, I bet he’s been waiting for this opportunity to get some payback.

  A cruel smirk cuts across Mason’s face as he cracks his knuckles, making it clear he’s going to enjoy destroying him.

  Tearing his top over his head and piercing Mason with his own dark look, Deke flexes his muscles, widening his stance and preparing to face off against the muscle machine that is Mason. With both of them crouched low, ready to pounce, they stand and glower at one another, waiting for some sort of signal. After a tense moment of silence, Cam barks out, “Go,” and the two of them launch themselves at each other.

  Deke is all pent up anger and aggression, his hits sloppy as he attempts to pummel Mason, who, in stark contrast, delivers punishing blows to Deke’s midsection, making every hit count. It’s painfully obvious that, of the two of them, Mason is the fighter. His punches are well aimed and intended to inflict pain, whereas Deke is just punching whatever part of Mason is closest to him. There’s no skill or tact in his movements, no forethought to his hits. It’s an unexciting match that quickly ends with Deke laid out on the floor, barely moving. I scan my eyes over the other kids in the crowd and quickly deduce that none of them would make for an enthralling fight, except maybe Mason and Hawk. I’d quite happily watch Mason beat the crap out of Hawk. Give me a seat and a cold can of coke and I’ll watch that shit all day.

  A couple of other football players step forward to help a groaning, half-unconscious Deke to his feet while Cam claps Mason on the back, a dark grin on his face. Glancing at the other Pricks, I notice all of them are wearing matching sinister expressions, only made more terrifying by the half-light of the flashlights. Not wanting to hang around and risk getting caught, I slip into the darkness of the surrounding forest, silently making my way back to the dorms, replaying what I just saw in my head, unable to forget the sadistic looks on all of their faces.