Page 127 of Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 5)
And then reality comes crashing down around me, and I remember that we’re filthy and wicked, wanton and ribald and lascivious, and I can do whatever the fuck I want to this man because he’s mine. He always has been. He always will be.
My hands drop to the fly of his jean shorts as his tongue takes over my mouth, casting a spell on me that I’m not entirely certain isn’t also a curse. Callum backs me up until I’m pressed into the side of a stone wall, our bodies partially hidden by a trellis covered in ivy. It’s possible that another student might stumble on us here, twisted and tangled together like briars on the edge of an ivory tower, but I don’t care.
I just need to touch and kiss and hold someone that cares about me, somebody that I care about in return. Because I don’t need Pamela or the love that I was supposed to have from her. I went out and found my own love. And that isn’t to say that romantic love is the ultimate, it just so happens that the ultimate love I’ve found with the Havoc Boys just happens to be that. Romance. Sex. We get to have it all. I could die happy right now, I think, even as I’m still trembling and shaking from the depth of my mother’s betrayal.
She killed my sister.
My mother, the woman that gave birth to us, who raised us, who abused us.
She snuffed my beautiful, beautiful sister out.
My right hand curves around the base of Cal’s cock, squeezing him so hard that he grunts, encouraging him to thrust against my sweaty fist. He does the same for me, finding my swollen cunt inside my sweatpants and expertly sliding a single finger in to test my readiness. What he finds there has him groaning and grinding against me, seeking hot friction between our bodies as our breath escapes in small puffs. The air is tilting toward spring, but winter has yet to give up her hold on the valley so even though we’ve been running for a while now, all the places on my body that are exposed prickle with the cold.
I like that though, the feeling of being punished by nature.
“Cal,” I murmur, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth until his eyelids flutter and he lets out a small, ragged sounding groan. “Turn me around and fuck me until it hurts.”
“Bernie,” he says, the sound caught halfway between a chastisement and an endearment. I give his cock a few last tugs before I withdraw my hand and he does the same. Just as I asked, Cal puts his hands on my hips and spins me until I’m facing the cream-colored stone wall. My palms brace against it, my back arched and my ass tilted up for his viewing pleasure. Callum curses under his breath as he drags my sweats over the plump curve of my ass, and even if I can’t see him, I can feel him admiring it.
He swipes a hot thumb over my opening—the rear one—and continues down until he finds the slickness of my cunt, pressing inside briefly. A shudder ripples through him that I can feel through even that simple touch.
“Fuck my ass,” I murmur, and Cal makes another sound that could be a growl or a cry or a little bit of both. I’m inviting his darkness to play, and he isn’t entirely sure he wants to let it out. Risking a glance over my shoulder, I find him watching me, as if he anticipated having my eyes meet his. “Do it, please.”
“We don’t have any lube,” Cal hazards, which is a good point. I’m educated enough to know that you really should have some good lube on hand if you’re going to fuck somebody’s ass. But that’s not what I want right now, something that carefully planned and easy and well-thought-out.
“I don’t care,” I tell him, licking my lips, feeling my heart pump like crazy. My sweats are bunched at my knees, my ass thrust out and in view of anyone that might take this small side path between two buildings. Doesn’t matter. Havoc rules this campus the same way we did Prescott High. These kids might have money, but they all know about Donald Asher. Some of them probably even know about Mason Miller. The thing is, you can live in a gilded cage. You can even surround yourself with guards and dogs and security systems. But that little, tiny spider, the one with venom so wicked it can stop your heart with a single bite, you can’t keep it from crawling in the cracks. “I want it to hurt, Cal. I want to feel alive and present in this moment, and I want to forget all about Pam and Neil and Sara and the GMP …”
