SAVAGE: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rosewood High Book 3)

by Tracy Lorraine

  I lean back harder into him and he palms them and pinches my nipples so tightly that a bolt of lust shoots straight to my core.

  “You think all the guys down there are hard, watching me play with your tits?”

  A low groan rumbles up my throat, my only answer to his question as my head rolls back on his shoulder, my eyes falling closed with the pleasure.

  “Eyes open. I want you to watch them watch you.”

  In reality, everyone seems to be going about whatever it is they’re doing down there, and although they can probably see our figures, I doubt they can see what we’re doing or the fact that I’m topless.

  “You want more, sweet cheeks?”

  A “yes” falls from my lips before I even realize I’ve said it, my body so desperate for the release he can give me now he’s started.

  His hands leave my breasts in favor of my jeans. They’re pushed from my hips, and in seconds they’re pooled at my ankles. Ethan demands I step out of them before kicking them back into the room.

  “Nice choice,” he says, running his finger over the delicate lace of the G-string I’m wearing. “Did you know that red’s my favorite color?”

  I shake my head, although seeing as the school and his team play in red, it was a good guess that he’d like it. Not that that was why I bought it of course. Bullshit, a little voice screams in my head.

  His hands stop on my hips, and I’m spun and pushed up against the railing. The cold bites into my bare ass, but I don’t have time to think about it because the darkness in Ethan’s eyes captures my attention. He looks wild. I’ve no idea if he’s been drinking tonight. I can’t smell it on him, that’s for sure, but he looks like a man possessed. I wonder if it’s desire or just pure hate that’s running through him.

  For the first time tonight, a slither of fear creeps in. Is he going to take this too far? Force me to do something that I’m not ready for? This game we’ve been playing, this push and pull is fun and all, but I’m very aware that it could turn into something very ugly very quickly, and if that happens then I’m afraid to consider the fact that he really could shatter me. He could drag me back to my past, and I’m not sure how I’d manage to get myself out of that dark hole I was once in. Especially while under the same roof as him.

  His eyes bounce between mine, and for the briefest moment, I see something else in them. Something more than just the desire and anger. Something deeper. Something painful, and it’s that I latch onto. He’s acting out, trying to prove he has power over this house and the things that happen inside it, but deep down, his actions are coming from his pain over what’s been forced on him. I get that. I understand that burning anger for something you have no control over. It’s probably the reason I’ve allowed things to go as far as they have between us. The reason why I’m once again standing basically naked in front of him, giving him everything—or almost everything—he wants because I see more. I see deeper, and he fucking hates it.

  No sooner has it appeared does it disappear, and his eyes harden once again before dropping to my heaving chest.

  “Well, sweet cheeks. That’s one sweet show you’re giving those people down there.”

  I swallow my nerves as he takes a step toward me.

  “You want to give them the finale?”

  I swallow loudly and his eyes flick up to mine. They hold for a beat, and I swear he can see my fear for what comes next.

  I’m out here, naked for all intents and purposes, and totally at his mercy. I could scream, but really, no one would hear it. He can do—take—whatever he wants right now, and as much as my body might be desperate for what he can give, I’m not sure it’s worth it.

  “Jump up,” he demands. His eyes flick to where my palms are resting on the wide stone barrier that’s stopping me from falling to the pool area below.

  “Uh…”

  “Do. It.” He steps closer, looks at me from under his lashes, and helps me out by lifting my small frame from the floor.

  I’m perched on the balcony. One wrong move and I’ll end up a broken, probably dead, mess on the tiles below. My eyes hold his, too afraid to look around. Certainly too afraid to look down.

  “I read something somewhere that fear only makes the pleasure better, more intense.” A wicked smile curls at his lips and he leans around me to look at the ground below. “That’s a long way down. Are you scared, sweet cheeks?”

  I shake my head. In reality, I’m pretty terrified right now but have no idea if it’s from possibly falling to my death or of him.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Again, the only thing I do is shake my head.

  He laughs. It’s deep and evil, and has a ripple of panic running through me.

  “Wise. Very wise.”

  He pushes my thighs apart and stands between them. His own chest is heaving much like mine although covered in fabric.

  “So what happens next then, eh?” Our eyes hold but no words form. “Are you going to give me what I want and beg? Or are you going to defy me, again?”

  I tilt my head to the side slightly as if to say, try me. But I don’t think he reads the move in the way I intend it, because he uses my angle to slam his lips to mine and force his tongue into my mouth. His hands slide down my bare back, goosebumps erupting in their wake as he drags my ass to the edge so he can press my core to his hard cock.

  “Oh fuck,” I moan, my head falling back. Pleasure takes over my fear as he rubs himself against me. His hardness and the roughness of the lace against my soft skin are too much to bear.

  “Don’t forget to hold on. I’d hate to have to clean up the mess when you hit the ground.”

  “Fuck you,” I spit, suddenly finding my fire.

  “Ah, so you’re still in there then. I thought you were being too compliant.” My teeth grind at his statement. Doesn’t he realize how hard it is to keep my head on straight when his hands are on me? Of course he does, it’s why you keep ending up in this situation.

  I open my mouth to spit back some cutting remark about him being power mad, but he lowers his head and his lips wrap around my nipple. All thoughts leave my head in favor of feeling.

  When he has his hands—or mouth—on me, all the voices in my head vanish. It’s fucking addictive, which is why I’m here right now riding the very possibility of imminent death while desperately craving the lightness only Ethan can provide me with. My past vanishes, my present disappears, and I’m just a body craving release. We’re just two people giving each other what we need to escape our reality. It’s in that moment that I wonder if I should stop denying him more and allow him the same emptiness he must crave as much as me. If I can give him the same thing, would it make him easier to live with? Would he let up a little?

  I don’t get to dwell on those questions for too long, because he starts descending down my stomach. His fingers grip onto the lace of my panties and tug. I’m so lost to what he’s about to do that I don’t even chastise him for ruining them.

  “I suggest you hold the fuck on if you want to see tomorrow,” is his only warning before his fingers part me and he licks at my clit.

  With the angle I’m at, I get to see everything. Every leisurely lick of his tongue against me, every time he grazes his teeth against my clit before he sucks it deep into his mouth and makes me cry out his name. I get to watch as he pushes one, and then two, fingers inside me. And I get a first look at my wetness covering his face when he pulls back to drag in some much-needed air.

  When our eyes lock, I forget everything. Who we are, where we are, why I hate him so fucking much. The only thing I can think about is how much I need him to continue, how I need this and so much more from him. It’s fucking dizzying how badly I need him right now and although I hate to admit it, let alone accept it, words start tumbling from my lips.

  “Ethan, please.” I’m desperate to reach out, thread my fingers in his hair and drag him back to me, but I daren’t move my hand from holding me up. “Ethan,” I moan, flexing my hips a littl
e in the hope that it’ll entice him back.

  “What is it you want, sweet cheeks?” He’s sitting back on his haunches, his eyes following his fingers, teasing a trail over my heated skin.

  “You,” I moan.

  “Me what?”

  “Y-your tongue. Your fingers. Please, Ethan. Please.”

  “Is that you begging for me, baby?” The achievement on his face doesn’t even register as he keeps me on the edge of earth-shattering pleasure with his slow movements and deep plunges of his fingers.

  “It’s whatever it is to get your face back between my legs. Argh, shit, Fuck,” I bark when he dives in.

  I chant, scream, cry his name and many more things I’m sure as he pushes me toward the edge. I’m just about to crash when he stands, pulls me into his arms, wraps my legs around his waist and carries me into my bedroom.

  I’m dropped to the bed only a second before my legs are parted once again and he’s continuing his previous actions. Only this time he doesn’t let up until I crash. And do I fucking crash. My entire body locks up as my release slams into me. I twitch and convulse on the bed, but Ethan doesn’t stop. He doesn’t pull back until I’ve ridden out every last second of pleasure.

  He sits back, his finger still teasing me, sending aftershocks shooting around my body, his eyes locked on my pussy.

  Once I regain the control of my limbs, I prop myself up on my elbows.

  I expect him to immediately claim his prize for winning our stupid little bet. But instead, he’s sitting there staring at me like he’s lost in a daze.

  “E-Ethan? A-are you—?”

  Abruptly he stands, his hands lifting to his hair before he starts backing away from me.

  My body fills with ice the second he moves away. Did I do something wrong? He seemed to be totally enjoying himself down there. Why’s he freaking out?

  He lifts his eyes. Our connection holds, desire crackling between us as I wait for him to come back and take what I now owe him. But he ever does.

  He opens his mouth and closes it so many times to say something that eventually I lose count. The silence drags out between us, the only thing that can be heard our increased breathing, before he eventually pulls his thoughts together and speaks.

  “You’re ruining my fucking life.” And then he’s gone. He leaves my room and, soon after, the house.

  22

  Ethan

  Unable to stay in the same house, I head straight for the stairs and climb into my car. I’ve got the engine on and I’m backing out of the driveway before my brain’s caught up with my body.

  It’s late, I’ve got nowhere to go, but fuck, anywhere is better than being in that house with her.

  My hands tremble as I drive. I squeeze the wheel in the hope it’ll make it abate, but nothing helps. The image of her laid out before me totally naked and at my mercy is burned onto the back of my eyes, and no matter how fast I drive, no matter how recklessly I take the turns, it won’t fucking leave.

  Eventually I pull up in the deserted parking lot beside Aces. I park so I can stare out over the beach and the calm sea beyond, hoping that the solitude will help clear my head, but it does fuck all.

  I’ve no idea how long I sit there for. All I know is that it’s too late to turn up on anyone’s doorstep when I do leave. It doesn’t stop me though.

  I forgo going to Mason. He’s still living with the Lopezes, and I doubt they’d be too pleased with a midnight visitor, so I go to the only other place I possibly can. Jake’s.

  As expected, the house where he lives is in darkness. I pull up on the street as I usually would and make my way around the house to his trailer at the bottom of the garden. I might think he’s crazy to even consider moving in with Amalie, but one look at his dingy trailer and I realize why he’s agreed. No one deserves to live in this shithole. We should all be grateful for Amalie for giving him a lifeline and being willing to help make his existence that much better. He’s been screwed over from every angle all his life, it’s about time he experienced some happiness.

  His trailer is also in silence. I’m grateful it’s not rocking, not that that would have stopped me letting myself in.

  I flip the light on and I’m rummaging around his mostly empty fridge in the hope of finding a beer when footsteps make their way down to me.

  “What do you—” Jake barks, probably assuming it’s a burglar. Not that any burglar in their right mind would rob this place. “Ethan? What the fuck?”

  I look over my shoulder to find him standing in only his boxers, his hair messed from sleep, although if Amalie’s shoes by the door are anything to go by, I wonder if she had something to do with the state of him. I’m suddenly assaulted with the image I left behind. I could look like Jake right now, thoroughly fucked and sated, yet here I am, frustrated as fuck with the bluest balls known to man.

  “Sorry, I needed somewhere to crash. You got any beer?” I ask, giving up on my hunt, shutting the fridge and turning to him.

  “Your house not adequate enough? And no, it’s game week. No beer. No weed. No—”

  “Sex not on the banned list, I assume,” I interrupt. The fucker doesn’t even bother to hide his smugness.

  “If you had a hot girl beside you every night, would you give it up?” His brow arches as if he really needs an answer.

  “Fuck no. But you’re our captain. We need you fully focused,” I tease.

  “I am. I’m fully focused on the game and fucking my girl into next week. Now, as nice as this little visit is, why the fuck are you here?”

  “I needed to get out.”

  “Why? Your pare—dad back?” He catches himself at the last minute. The reminder of how much my life has changed in what feels like only a matter of days slams into me.

  I stumble back with only a fucking bottle of water in my hand and fall down onto his sofa.

  “No.”

  “So… oh,” he sings as realization hits him. “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay,” he drawls. “So really I should be asking what you’ve done.” He sits on the other side of the couch, rests his elbows on his knees and looks at me, and I mean really looks at me.

  “I…” I fall back and scrub my hands down my face. “Nothing. I’ve done nothing.”

  “Well that’s bullshit, and you know it.” The fucker has the audacity to actually fucking laugh. “You fucked her?”

  “What? No. Of course I haven’t fucked her.” It’s the truth, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like I’m lying to one of my best friends.

  “But you want to.”

  “No,” I bark way too quickly and defensively. “I fucking hate her. Okay. That’s it. She’s in my house, in my life, in my face, and she needs to fuck off.”

  “Riiiightt.”

  “She doesn’t belong there. They both need to fuck off, and my mom needs to come back.”

  “It sucks, man. I get it. Family shit is, ugh… a fucking nightmare. Relationships are complicated, and although I’m in no way condoning what your dad did, clearly there had been issues with him and your mom for him to do that. You know better than I do that he’s always been loyal, always respectful. It’s out of character for him, so there’s clearly shit you don’t know about. But ultimately what happened between them is exactly that: between them. What you need to focus on is them both finding happiness again, and if that needs to be apart and with other people, then so be it.”

  “Fucking hell, bro. When did you get so fucking deep with advice?”

  “Having a family like mine puts things into perspective,” he mutters. “You need to stop worrying about your parents. You’ll be off at college soon, not giving two shits what they’re up to or who they’re fucking.” I wince and he laughs. “Focus on you, not them. Focus on our final games, on your grades, on college. What the fuck ever. Just leave her the fuck alone. She’s not worth fucking up your senior year over.”

  “Isn’t she?” I mutter, and a shit-eating grin spreads acros
s his face. Motherfucker.

  “I don’t know, Savage. I don’t know her. But you do, and better than you’re willing to admit, I’m thinking, if you’re being here in the middle of the night is anything to go by.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Nah, save it for your girl.”

  “My wha—no. Fucking no. I hate her.”

  “I know. I get it, I really do. I hated Amalie, remember.” He looks to where I assume she is sleeping in his bed, and his eyes go all soft and glassy.

  “You’re so fucking whipped, man.”

  He shrugs. “Trust me, there are worse issues to have.”

  Silence falls around us. He continues staring at me as if I’m about to have some big epiphany while his words roll around in my head. I can’t deny that some of his advice makes a lot of sense, not that I’m going to tell him that.

  “So are you going to sleep here and let it spin around your head all night, or are you going home… to her?”

  The image of her laid out before me hits me once again, along with the feeling that filled me in that moment. Since the day I learned of her existence and arrival in my life, I’ve needed to hurt her. Needed to prove to her just how badly she’s fucking my life up. But in that moment, after she’d been begging for me to make her come, just like I told her she would, all I could think was that I needed her. I didn’t need to hurt her, or teach her a lesson. I just needed her, and that was scary as fuck. She might have owed me a blowjob but like fuck was I taking it from her when I needed her. I’m taking when I need to hurt her, prove to her who’s in control of this thing between us. I can’t let the lines blur. She’s my plaything. My ragdoll to tempt and tease when I so desire. She has no control in this situation. None. Zero. So why do you want to go and crawl into her bed to feel her against you again?