Broken Trust : Pacific Prep

by R. A. Smyth

  Squeezing ever so slightly, she doesn't move an inch, doesn't speak up or fight back. Why? If anything, she's shown us how much of a warrior she is, so why isn't she fighting me now? Does she know something I don't? Does she think I won't really hurt her? I'm not even sure of that right now, so how could she be?

  With my free hand, I push down her shorts, tearing at the thin straps of her top until I can push that down too, leaving her naked in front of me so I can see every perfectly flawed part of her. If anything, her scars only enhance her beauty.

  My fingers flex around her neck as I take my time looking her over, drinking my fill. I can feel every struggled breath she takes, yet that power, that control, only makes my dick harder. For too long, I’ve been feeling weak. I think it’s time I claimed back some of that power.

  Using my tight grip on her neck, I push her backward until her back slams into the door. Still she says nothing, only glaring at me with defiance—and is that a flare of lust?—as I push my boxers down, wrapping my hand around my painfully hard dick. Unable to look her in the eye, I kick her legs apart and slam into her in one quick motion, surprised at how wet she is as I feel her spasm around me, adjusting to the intrusion. Fuck me, is she enjoying this?

  A slight moan escapes her lips, but I tighten my grip on her neck, cutting it off as I pound into her at a ferocious pace, every thrust meant to rid myself of this helplessness I feel, of this rage I have toward her; meant to punish her for her betrayal, her lies.

  My anger still isn’t sated, but it has somewhat abated by the time the familiar tingling starts and my balls draw up, my eyelids drifting closed as I explode inside of her, not even giving a shit that I didn’t wear a condom.

  Her pussy spasms around me as though she’s about to come. My eyes snap open, taking in her lidded eyes, blue-tinged lips and the crimson flush rising on her cheeks and cascading down over her heaving chest. The blush could be due to the lack of oxygen, but there’s no denying she’s about to cum all over my dick.

  Before she can do just that, I pull out, not letting her see my surprise as I fix an impassive look on my face. Her eyes snap to mine, the lust from a moment ago quickly replaced with irritation as she glares at me. Smirking at her, I use my still tight grip on her throat to fling her body toward the bed where she lands in a heap, my cum smeared over her inner thighs as it leaks out of her. Ignoring the twisting in my stomach, I tuck myself away, not looking back as I open the door and leave her behind.

  ***

  Feeling like my old self, I strut out of the changing rooms to cheers from the stands. I once again dominate in my race, beating the other kids by a mile, a huge, shit-eating grin on my face as I throw my arms in the air, facing the crowd.

  As students line up for the next race, I spot my dad standing at the far side of the pool. Grabbing a towel and running it through my hair, I drape it over my shoulders as I head toward him, knowing he won’t leave until he’s once again reminded me Rutherford’s are winners. Doesn’t he know by now that every time he spouts that crap, it only encourages me to do the opposite? I’d deliberately lose at swimming to piss him off if I didn’t actually give a damn about winning. I don’t have the same reservations with my grades, though, so he’s just going to have to accept the passes I’m barely scraping.

  As I get closer, I notice he’s avidly watching someone up in the stands. I’m standing right behind him, when I hear him murmur under his breath, “Elizabeth?” Glancing up, I scan my eyes over the crowd, but I don’t see anyone I recognize with that name. The only person who stands out to me is Hadley. Her head is ducked as she scurries away, attempting to hide in the crowd, likely trying to get out of here before I or one of the guys spots her. I don’t even know what she’s doing here. She’s made it clear she doesn’t give a shit about me, so why even bother showing up? If she was hoping her presence would throw me off my game, then more fool her. Nothing could interrupt my focus when it comes to swimming.

  “Who?” I ask, pulling my gaze from Hadley, once again searching for whoever my dad saw. He startles at the sound of my voice, not having heard me approach.

  “Who was the student I just saw? The new girl.”

  I shrug my shoulders, really not wanting to talk about her with him. “Just some scholarship student that started this year.”

  “Huh,” he puzzles, frowning. “I didn’t realize the school was taking on any new scholarship students.”

  I shrug my shoulders again. Whatever. What the fuck does it matter?

  “What’s her name?”

  I give him a weird look out of the corner of my eye, something about his tone is off. It’s sharper than usual, his eyes more beady looking. Maybe he’s on something?

  Whatever, not my fucking problem.

  Knowing if I don’t just hand over the name, he’ll make me, I say, “Hadley Parker.”

  He probably just wants to dig into her file. He’s a control freak, always needing to know everything about everyone around him, so he probably thinks he’s doing his due diligence by checking her out, making sure the school hasn’t accidentally accepted an application from some sort of delinquent. I’m sure the school does their own thorough background checks on new students, but whatever.

  “Why?” Despite the fact I tell myself I don’t care, I ask the question anyway.

  Waving me off, he simply says, “Just curious. You know I like to stay informed of who all attends Pacific Prep with you. Good job today, son. You did the Rutherford name proud. I can only hope you’ll bring the same drive and determination to the company with you.”

  Right. Unable to think of anything constructive to say, I give him a tight smile.

  “You’ll be home for Christmas break in a few days. We’ll talk more then. We have a lot we need to discuss with you boys.”

  Yeah, I bet you do. Like maybe the fact the company we’ve always been told we’ll inherit one day is actually a front for a black market mercenaries-for-hire organization. Well, too late. We discovered that little nugget of information on our own, thanks to West and his next level genius skill with computers.

  It blew our minds. Fucking obliterated them. Our parents have always been cold, detached...ruthless almost. But then what prominent businessmen aren’t? I remember West telling us once that some of the most successful business leaders are actually psychopaths, or have similar traits to them. Something like that anyway. Sure, our parents are successful and they share some of the tendencies West mentioned. They’re definitely egotistical and apathetic, and they certainly never gave a shit about us beyond how our successes or failures reflect on them. Even so, I never would have thought them capable of this.

  We’ve discussed every scenario, but regardless of what we come up with, there is no denying they are involved. We haven’t been able to find out anything regarding the inner workings of it all, only that all four families co-own and oversee the overall running of the organization. Maybe we’ll get more answers when we’re home over Christmas.

  My father takes off to speak to the coach as I spot the guys leaving the stands. After a quick shower, I meet them outside the changing rooms, all three of them sporting huge grins as I pull the door open.

  “Well done, man,” Hawk congratulates, bumping my fist as West slaps me on the back.

  “You were on fire out there,” Mason enthuses.

  Their praise lights me up. Why can’t my father show such genuine happiness at my successes? These guys make it seem so easy. We always have each other's backs, we’re always supporting one another. I can trust them to stand behind me in anything. That kind of loyalty is hard to come by, but what we have is forever. No girl will ever come between us, and definitely not someone like Hadley.

  “Come on.” Hawk jerks his head toward the exit. “We’ve got some celebrating to do.”

  Chapter 26

  I don’t know why I went to that stupid swim meet, especially after what Cam did last night. I’m both disgusted with myself, shocked at his actions, and, most dist
urbingly, turned-on by the whole thing. I’m clearly sick in the head. I’ve spent my whole life around abusive, dominant men, and I know that exposure has seeped into my sex life. I like my sex rough—although, I never hand over control like that—but last night was on a whole other level. I was lightheaded and on the verge of passing out when he released his grip on my neck.

  I’ve no idea why I let him treat me like that. I could feel the pain pouring off him and I guess I felt...guilty?

  Yet, despite his hatred of me and the anger emanating from him, I went to that meet. I had to know he would win. I had to see him in action, because, regardless of what he might think, I do care about him. He made me fucking care. I was never supposed to fall, never supposed to give a damn. Except all those late nights I spent with him, trying to find out more about their parents and listening to him talk about his childhood, it made me see him as more than just the flirty guy I needed to get close to. Combine that with the way he used to look at me like no one else in the room mattered, not to mention the unbelievable sex...how could I not fall for Cam Rutherford?

  Shaking him out of my thoughts, I walk through the campus gates. This is the first time I’ve been outside these walls since the day I arrived. I meant to do this ages ago, but, well, life kind of got in the way. Crossing the road, I head down the wooden steps to the beach. It’s insane that the school is this close to the ocean, with this view, yet they stuck the dormitories all the way at the back of the campus.

  Stepping onto the beach, the smell hits me first. The brine of seawater is so strong I can practically taste it. Looking around the uneven shoreline, strewn with rocks, shells and chunks of seaweed, I find myself alone, except for some man at the far end of the beach. My boots sink into the sand and I hastily kick them off, feeling the hot grains between my toes with every step I take toward the ocean. The crash of waves and seagulls crying are the only sounds I can hear.

  Just before I reach the water's edge, I drop my boots and sit on the sand, my legs outstretched in front of me as I slide my hands through the rough grains, enjoying the feel of it beneath my fingers. My eyes soak in the sight in front of me, the steady push and pull of the tide, the waves rolling inland before they dissolve into foam on the beach. It’s bliss. Here I can forget about Pac Prep, the Pricks, the Princesses. The reason I’m here.

  Tilting my head back, I close my eyes, letting the sun hit my face, warming it; the cool breeze just enough to offset the heat of the day. For a long while, I pretend I’m just some woman on a beach, enjoying her day of relaxation, until I feel someone watching me. Snapping my eyes open, the guy I saw earlier has walked down the beach toward me. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, with a tattoo covering one arm.

  With the glare of the light, it’s impossible to make out his face, but as he gets closer, recognition dawns. Beck. He must see me as he heads this way.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” he calls out as he approaches. “I thought you’d be busy packing for the end of term.”

  “Foster kid, remember? I’ll be spending all my holidays here for the rest of the year.”

  “Ah, I wasn’t sure. Do you mind if I sit?”

  Shaking my head, he lowers his athletic body onto the sand beside me, keeping a respectful distance between us. God, I thought he looked good in his preppy waistcoats, but holy shit, he’s fucking lickable right now. I hadn’t realized his tattoo went all the way up his arm, and his t-shirt does nothing to hide the fact he clearly works out.

  His eyes roam over my face, his lips thinning as he takes in the purple bruising on my cheek. Emilia lent me some of her makeup to cover up the worst of it from prying eyes and whispering students, but the swelling and discoloration is still obvious up close.

  The two of us sit in silence for a while, comfortable enough in each other's presence now that neither of us feels the need to say anything. Only a few short weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to sit beside him like this. Not without my every sense in overdrive, waiting to see what he would do, ready to react if he made one move I didn’t like. Instead, my nerves are ablaze for a completely different reason.

  “It’s beautiful out here.” His voice is filled with awe as he takes in the view in front of us, seeing the same beauty as I do.

  “It is,” I agree. “I’ve never had time to just sit and take it in before. I’ve caught glimpses of the ocean, watched other kids playing in the sand, but I’ve never just sat and enjoyed it.”

  He doesn’t pry further, something that I appreciate. I think that’s what has endeared me to him most. If anything, he’s shared more with me than I’ve shared with him. He’s entrusted me to keep his secret about who he really is, without asking anything of me.

  Licking my lips, I pull my legs up in front of me, wrapping my hands around my knees before blurting out, “When I was thirteen, my only friend was murdered in front of me.” He doesn’t respond, but I can feel his eyes on me, and even though I don’t look away from the rolling ocean, I know I have his full attention. “She was killed because she wouldn’t do what some scumbag lowlifes wanted her to do.”

  I rarely let myself think about Meena, but it’s thanks to her I’m finally free. If only she hadn’t had to die for me to realize there must be more to life than what we’d been subjected to.

  “She always talked about coming to the beach,” I say in a flat, monotone voice. “We’d tell each other all the things we were going to do when we got here. I promised her we’d see it one day, together.”

  My chin trembles as tears prickle behind my eyes, my chest aching with the grief of her loss as I press my forehead against my knees, taking a few deep breaths to collect myself.

  Beck keeps quiet, not saying anything as he gives me the time I need to gather myself together. Eventually I sit up, leaning back on my arms, pressing my hands flat against the sand. “She would have loved it here,” I murmur as I look out over the sea-green frothy water, taking in the sun’s glow on the horizon. It’s so picturesque. Better than anything we could have dreamed up.

  The feeling of a warm hand on mine pulls my attention back to Beck. His features are soft as he looks at me with empathetic eyes, a sad smile lifting his lips.

  “I think she’d be proud of who you’ve become,” he murmurs gently. “The depth of your strength is incredible.”

  We both sit in silence for the rest of the day, only making a move back toward campus when the sun starts to set, its yellow-red rays painting the sea a bright amber.

  Despite not having done much with my day, I’m exhausted by the time I make it back to my room, and I’m really not in the mood when I find West leaning against the wall beside my door.

  “What are you doing here, Wes?” I sigh, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

  “I need to talk to you.” His tone is pressing, his brows furrowed and his lips pinched, all of it making him look more serious than normal as he watches me closely. Unable to handle his overbearing gaze, I push through into my bedroom, not giving a crap if he follows me or not.

  Dropping my bag on the desk, I turn around to face him, crossing my arms over my chest as I look him over.

  “Okay…” I raise an eyebrow impatiently, wishing he would hurry up and get to the point; tell me whatever he has to say so he can leave me alone.

  He steps hesitantly into the room, closing the door behind him and standing awkwardly in front of it, glancing around like he’s never seen the inside of a girl’s bedroom before, but I know he’s been in this exact bedroom so I’ve no idea who he’s trying to fool.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  The room looks pretty much the same as it did the day I moved in. Sarcastic asshole.

  “We don’t all have money or time to waste on decorating,” I snipe at him. If he’s just come here to insult me, I’m going to be fucking pissed.

  I notice his eyes lingering on the bookcase.

  “I’ve found a new hiding spot, in case you were wondering.”


  “I wasn’t.”

  His words have my eyes narrowing on him. Is this some sort of recon mission? Are they trying to get the notebook back?

  Taking another step toward me, he holds out a file I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying. Staring at it warily, like it’s a bomb and not a collection of papers, I make no effort to take it from him.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “You said you were raised in foster care, right?”

  I hesitate before confirming, my thoughts racing as I try to figure out what he’s getting at, my eyes flicking up from the envelope to his watchful gaze. “Yeah.”

  Fuck, if he’s been doing some digging, he’ll have discovered my backstory is a complete lie. There’s no way he can know the truth, though. Even if he did somehow stumble across it, there’s no fucking way he would believe it. No one in their right minds would.

  My heart races, every muscle tense. Everything inside of me is screaming that this is bad.

  “Do you know who your real parents are?”

  “What are you getting at, Wes?” I demand, snapping at him, not liking one bit where this line of questioning is going.

  The fucker just raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to answer him.

  “No,” I snap, “I don’t.”

  Realizing I’m not going to touch whatever the hell is in that folder, he inches toward the bed, dropping it on the covers. My stomach churns, this gut wrenching feeling that I know exactly what is in that folder making me feel physically sick.

  “What did you do, Wes?” I glare at him. Who the fuck is he to stick his nose in my business. Why the fuck would he even go looking for my parents. Does he think he’s doing me a favor? Just because he’s got the perfect rich family, he thinks we all want to know where we come from?