by L V Chase
"You like that, don't you?" I'm speaking softly so that only she can hear me. "I don't need to take anything. You'd give it to me yourself, wouldn't you?"
She squeezes her eyes shut. "Fuck you. Fuck you."
"Oh, I know you want to." I laugh and step away. Breaking her was easier than I had thought. It's disappointing, boring in a way, that I'm almost there already. Just a little more.
I turn to the other girls. One of them's a tanned brunette, so I know that she's not one of the scholarship girls. She's still wearing a pair of blue boy shorts but nothing on top. Her dark brown nipples are at full attention. When I point to her, she flashes me a huge smile.
"Take it all off. Then, come kneel here. I want to use your throat."
She giggles and hurries to strip completely naked. She's has a neat, small stripe of dark hair down there. Some of the other boys murmur their appreciation of the view.
"Finally!" Eric nods. "We're getting somewhere."
"What's your name?" I ask as the brunette comes over. I check on Cin with a sideways glance. She's still back against the wall.
"Sasha," the brunette says.
Sasha bends down and looks up at me, but I'm hardly paying her any attention. She licks her lips, then reaches for my zipper. Her hand grabs my crotch when I turn back towards Cin.
"See how easy that is? Now take her place." I point to Cin, then Sasha. "Down here, now." I motion for Sasha to move away.
Sasha gets up with a big pout. "But..."
"Cin. Here. Now." I stare at her. Vaguely, I'm aware of Sasha backing away.
Cin raises her head to meet my gaze. Her cheeks are still partially flushed from before, and her mouth is half-open like it's longing to do exactly what I commanded. I can see her tongue moving inside her mouth, playing with her teeth.
Then, she shakes her head firmly. "Go fuck yourself. Or how about you ask your boyfriend Eric? You two have got to be fuck buddies, the way he’s always slobbering over you."
This bitch.
I'm upon her in a second, one hand wrapped around her soft throat, pinning her to the wall again. She struggles, scratching at my hand, trying to shake her head, screaming like a wildcat. I hold on firmly, not enough to hurt her, but enough to show her that she's helpless.
"Oh, that's hot." Eric hisses from somewhere behind me. "Choke her out. Choke that bitch, then we can give her a proper fucking."
Eric’s all riled up. He's mad at what Cin just said, and with all the naked girls, the other boys watching, the tension—he's not going to stand idly by. He wants to do something, just like me. But once Eric gets going, he doesn't know when to stop.
I smother Cin with my body, pinning her arms between our bodies so that she can't flail about anymore. " You hear that? What did I tell you about Eric? You keep that up, and I’m letting him loose."
She must have heard me, because she stops screaming. She pants to recover, her chest puffing up and down. Her body's warmer than before, her hair wild and messy from the flailing, her nipples still hard. The musky scent is still there.
I lower my head to her neck, my nose tracing a path up her throat and chin, then the side of her cheek. I've managed to keep things in check, but I can't play it this cool with her so close. My cock grows, pressing against my jeans, throbbing.
I whisper into her ear. "I know you want to. It's easy, real easy. Just get on your knees. I’ll tell everyone to turn around so they can't watch."
In that moment, I want nothing more than to see her mouth wrapped around my cock, her green eyes looking up at me, my fingers running through her hair while she gives me everything she has.
Her mouth opens once, twice, but no words come out. Her eyes dart to the others, then back to me. She bites her lip, like she's fighting it but knows that I'm going to win. Seeing her on the edge like that makes me want her even more. My hand’s already away from her neck and is gently massaging her collar bone, then her shoulder. She makes a slight noise, like a soft moan, but turns her head quickly to the side, hiding her face in a curtain of brownish-blonde hair.
A high-pitched, whiny voice interrupts. "She's not going to do it. Let me."
It's what's-her-name. Sasha. Cin turns to look at me again. The hot flush on her face and her trembling body say one thing, but her brows are furrowed and her mouth pulled tight as she says two words.
"Fuck you."
I want to take her, devour her right there, make her pay. But I also want her to devour me at the same time, and, for a moment, I’m not sure what the hell this is all about anymore. All I know is that I'm pissed.
"You'll pay for this," I whisper into her ear. Then, I let go and step away. "Get out of here."
She stands still, her face twisting with confusion.
Fucking bitch. What's she waiting for? "I said, get the fuck out of here!"
She blinks, then turns and runs away without another word.
10
Cin
It’s impossible to believe I’d ever been able to sleep before. I’m on the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever been on, staring up at the ceiling, and sleep doesn’t visit me all night. I tell myself that I’m waiting for Diana to return, but it’s Grayson who dominates my thoughts.
I should want him dead. On my block, if I’d run away like I did in the tunnels, I’d be labeled forever as a coward and pushover. I’d be expected to at least threaten, taunt, or call him out. A respectable woman would have hit him. I’d have done it to a thousand other men. I mean, I punched a boy on this campus earlier for a lot less.
But Grayson’s a disease. He turns me weak and feverish.
I want to reenact him pushing me against the wall.
When the other girl had been kneeling in front of me, I had wanted to take her place before he had even said a word. And when he had grabbed me by the neck, I had expected more. I had expected his mouth to brush against mine. I had expected to fall apart, and not from pain. It would have been as natural as breathing.
What the fuck is wrong with me? He’s just another asshole out of god knows how many I’ve met over my life. Sure, he’s rich and good-looking, but—fuck, I don’t care about shit like that, at least not like the others do, like my mother does. I blanch at that thought.
My mother would have goaded me on.
No, just no. So what if Grayson’s is unnaturally gorgeous? I can’t help how my body reacts, but I sure as hell can make sure that I don’t turn into one of these drooling, fake-ass gold digger bitches. I will not, absolutely not, turn into my damn mother.
Fuck.
I sit up and turn off my morning alarm before it goes off. I let my phone screen go black as I stare at it. My reflection looks like shit, but my brain isn’t doing much better. It’s my first day at this school, and I’m already barely hanging on.
I look around. Diana never returned. I’d be worried, but from the way she reacted to me last night, I’m pretty sure that she spent the night with one of the DDDD girls. I don’t blame her. At this point, I’m embarrassed about myself, too.
Yes, I can admit that part of me wants Grayson, but I’m old enough, smart enough to know that he’s nothing but a piece of shit, spoiled brat.
Before I can waste any more time thinking about him, I take a shower, get dressed, and grab my materials for my first class, AP Environmental Science. My stomach grumbles as I start making myself a mug of coffee.
If I want food, I have to head to the dining hall, where there’ll be people, and...
I take a sip of my coffee, burning the back of my throat. Fuck it. Grayson isn’t going to scare me away from what I want. If I want to graduate from here, I can’t hide in my room forever. Grayson might be terrible, but he’s not some monster from a horror movie. It’s not like he’s going to eat me.
At least, not that way.
I cross the campus. I pretend I’m Ollie and try to take in all of the beauty surrounding me, but I can’t even convince myself. Every patch of perfectly maintained gardening or pristine architecture
reminds me of how much money is flowing through these halls, and that makes me think of the billion-dollar boy, Grayson.
When I pull open the dining hall’s doors, I hear the rumble of students talking amongst each other. As I walk in, the noise quiets down. Hostile eyes follow me. A couple of students bump into me as they pass by.
For breakfast, only a couple of the stations are open. I return to the burger spot, lured by the sound of bacon sizzling and the aroma of maple sausages. I walk up to the cook as I scan the menu displayed above his head.
“Could I get the premium breakfast sandwich?” I ask.
“Coming right up,” he mutters.
I grab a bottle of orange juice and focus on staring down at my schedule, pretending to be confused by the location of each of my classes. The chatter around me slowly returns, building back up to where it had been before.
Someone taps on my shoulder. I slowly lower my schedule, my hand curling into a fist as I turn.
“Hi, Cinnamon!” The girl’s brimming with exuberance. Her pale skin and her paler hair make her seem out of place against the backdrop of the school’s darker shades. She reminds me of those elegant elves in fantasy movies.
“We haven’t met yet,” she says, “but I’ve been dying to meet you. I’m Aurora Voss.”
Grayson’s stepsister. I should have recognized her from the article. She just seems more vibrant in person compared to the photo.
“Hi,” I say, shaking her hand.
Her hands are so delicate, it feels like I could break her bones just by holding it. I’m honestly confused why she’s introducing herself to me. Did Grayson send her?
I raise a cautious eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’d want to talk to me. Everyone else seems hell-bent on treating me like I just got outed as a secret baby strangler.”
Her laugh is warmer than I expected. All of the other girls at this school seem to have a shrill, fake laugh. Hers is different. I don’t know if it’s authentic, or if she’s just better at acting. God, this place is making me cynical.
“Oh, don’t worry about those snobs,” she says. “They try to act special, but they’re all the same. Incredibly boring drifters stuck on the latest social media tends. You, however, are an artist, and artists are utterly fascinating. Artists see the world in such a rare way. I’d love to ask you about your opinion on, well, everything. I’d love it if you sat with my friends and me.”
Okay?
Her hand has settled on the back of my arm. Normally, this type of girl would repel me. She’s filled with so much sunshine that I’d expect her to either be completely out-of-touch, or just plain weird. But she seems like she fits in just fine here. The people aren’t glaring at me anymore, either. If Grayson is powerful enough to make people get on their knees, Aurora must have some sway as well. They’ve both accomplished the same thing, after all—being born from Lawrence Voss’ glorious sperm. That’s all they care about here, right?
Besides, my only other option is to spend the rest of my time here doing my best impression of the invisible man and failing.
I nod once. Aurora beams, looping her arm around me. She waits for me to get my breakfast order before pulling me towards her table. Unlike the DDDD girls, her group of friends is a bit more dynamic. Four of the girls are brunettes of various shades, two have black hair, and a couple of them have curves. In fact, Aurora stands out in her modelesque beauty. The others are gorgeous, but in a way that doesn’t remind me of silicone and diet plans.
“First, Cinnamon,” Aurora says. She doesn’t have any food in front of her. “I’d like to apologize for my stepbrother’s behavior. I heard what happened last night and I…I wish I could say I didn’t believe it, but it’s right on-brand for him. I don’t want to make excuses for him, but the unfortunate truth is that he’s his father’s son, and, well, I’m sure you know, it’s worked out for our father, so…”
“It’s not your fault,” I say, taking a sip of the orange juice. “You don’t need to apologize for him.”
“Oh, I know. But I feel responsible somehow. We’re practically twins, and one of us needs to be the responsible one.” She forces a smile. “Besides, we only get one family, right? I might not like them sometimes, but they’re my tribe.”
I shrug. “He’s a big boy. He can make his own choices.”
I take a bite out of my bacon breakfast sandwich. Aurora watches me carefully. I chew my food deliberately, warily. I wish I could say it was because I don’t trust her brother, but it’s more likely that it’s my bias against rich people. I don’t want to be judgmental like them, but I’ve just never had anything good to say about them. But Aurora’s been the nicest student here. Her mother came from an ordinary background, too. Maybe Aurora’s different.
As I eat, Aurora and her friends ask me questions about myself like I’m a Hollywood starlet and they have to fill up two pages for an interview.
“What do you think about the school so far?”
“Did you actually punch Terry Parson? In the face? Did he cry?”
“Where’d you learn to fight?”
“Wait, a pregnant girl got stabbed at your school? Twice?”
“Are you interested in anyone?”
“Oh, nobody yet,” I say. It tastes like a lie. I take another bite of the sandwich to cover it the taste of salty bacon. “I haven’t even been here for a day.”
One of the black-haired girls leans forward, smirking. With her head tilted away from me, I can see the music note tattoo in her ear. “Like that matters,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Here, there’s enough hotness to fall in love with somebody new every day.”
“I’m not here to fall in love,” I say.
An awkward silence falls over the table, but Aurora laughs to clear the silence.
“Of course not,” she says, spreading her hands out in front of her. “You’re one of those artist types. You have much higher ambitions than us talentless hacks. But that reminds me, I have to ask—if you had actually gone through with the hazing, what would you have said was your deepest desire?”
“I don’t think I have higher ambitions than the rest of you,” I say.
“Oh, I don’t mean it as a criticism,” she says. “Forget about that part. I’m an idiot. Runs in my family. I’m just curious what your answer would have been.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Come on, Cinnamon.” She grasps my hand, squeezing it. “Everyone wants something. What’s it for you?”
Aurora has been doing her best to offset her asshole of a stepbrother trying to ruin my life. It feels like I would be spitting in her face if I wasn’t truthful.
I spin the orange juice bottle between my hands. “Honestly? I just want my art to be recognized as…good. I want people to look at it and appreciate it.”
“Doesn’t your mom appreciate it?” the dark-haired girl asks.
A couple of the other girls giggle, but Aurora keeps her gaze steady on me.
I take a deep breath. “Not really. She thinks it’s a waste of time. But I also want other artists to appreciate my work. I want people who understand what goes on behind, the techniques, the ideas, all of that—I want those people to appreciate my work.”
“Artists can make really good money,” one of the brunettes says. “And become really famous. Like Banksy.”
“I don’t care about the money or fame,” I say. “I just want people to see my art as worthwhile in its own way. My mother…she doesn’t think I can make it on my own, but I think I can, and I want to prove that I can.”
“That is so inspiring,” Aurora gushes.
“Yeah, it almost makes me feel bad,” the dark-haired girl mutters. “My deepest desire is to fuck Eric Callahan.”
The girls dissolve into giggles and sweet jabs at each other. They’re not the type I’d normally hang out with, but that makes them better people than me, because they have no problem with it.
Maybe this is the point that my li
fe changes. It’s not with the change in location, but the change of people.
I glance over at Aurora. A smile lights up her face, but a second beforehand, something else had been there, almost too quick to catch or understand. I’d seen it on someone else before, but it takes me a second to place it.
My mother. Every time I earned the praise or attention of someone else, she’d have that expression on her face. It was the thunder before the lightning, warning me of a dark mood that could last for weeks.
I’m being paranoid again. Aurora is the one devoting attention to me. Plus, she’s a fucking Voss. She has no reason to be jealous of a nobody like me.
11
Grayson
It's lunchtime, and I'm racing down the hills again, the top down, the wind rippling across the top of my head. My body presses hard against the door as I make a tight turn around one bend. I slam the accelerator, then barely slow as I go around the next bend that pushes me to the right.
There's a small steel railing on the left side of the road, and beyond that, it's a solid two-hundred feet drop. From here, while driving, it looks there's nothing but empty air out for miles before hitting the city.
I hit another turn, and I grimace as the wheels give a sharp squeal. I had pushed too hard, and they had slipped, just a little. A little more, and I'd have been a wreck careening over the side of the cliff.
Then, there's the final straight stretch, still downhill. I gas it and whip past the wooden telephone pole. I check my watch. Two minutes and thirty seconds. Too slow, too fucking slow, and I know why.
Her.
I came here to blow some steam, but I just can't figure her out. What the fuck is her deal? Half the time I want to fucking kill her, and the other time I want to fuck her. But she's just another girl, another damn lay. Maybe it's not her. Maybe it's me? No, I'm not turning into some soft, whiny bitch. I punch the wheel, honking at no one, as I drive back to school.
Ten minutes later, I pull into my parking spot, right at the front, and get out. Well, that was a waste of time. I'm even more steamed than before I left. No matter where I go, no matter how fast I drive, she's still haunting me like a clingy ex.