45. Hendrix #2
The electricity builds so high stars glitter in front of me, and before I know it I’m coming with a scream Saint devours with his lips.
Saint’s acknowledgment of my presence, along with the loosened grip around my neck, lifts the fog enough to assume he’s close to finishing too.
But what he does next shows how dangerously wrong I am.
Before I can fathom what’s happening, his fingers leave my ass, and his cock drives inside it with a brutal force.
I’m screaming again—this time it’s actual pain that Saint swallows.
Which he continues swallowing through long, powerful thrusts that have tears dripping down my cheeks.
It’s deplorable. Yet for some sick reason, I find myself loving it.
“Shhhhhh…” Saint lulls, using his thumb to soothe the erratic pulse of my carotid, and it tells me all I need to know about why.
Saint’s light may have gone out—but it’s fighting its way back.
So, through every one of his brutal attacks, I fight just as hard.
To smile cunningly at the darkness.
Demand it to give me more.
Just when I think Saint’s about to rip me apart, his breaths lower to grunts against my lips, and his thrusts shorten to increase friction.
Adding a new level of pain that’s too gruesome to challenge.
Saint’s thumb caressing my pulse remains a false sense of security as I squeeze my eyes shut, and when he doesn’t let up on his assault, I’m scared he never will.
That is, until my relief comes through in the form of a standstill, Saint’s in the form of jerking hips.
“Almost…there…” He groans, seconds before warm spurts of his orgasm fill me.
A jerk of his hips.
More spurts.
More groans.
So on and so forth until I’m drenched in so much cum the stickiness pools from between my ass cheeks down to my legs.
Holy. Fucking. Hell was letting Saint tear me up the right call.
My asshole may be sore for days, but this guy’s balls? They must’ve been borderline exploding for two months.
My eyes are open, but I don’t relax fully until Saint withdraws his cock. The second he does, I’m hit with a million sensations all at once. Most good, some bad. Each powerful enough to make my legs buckle beneath me.
“Shit, Jimi. I knew this was a bad idea.” Saint curses as he lays my back onto the mattress.
“Great idea,” I correct him. “And super fucking hot.”
With an amused scoff, he climbs off the bed, and it isn’t until he’s in the bathroom that I adjust my bottom to ease the ache.
Because, yeah. My asshole? Already on fire.
Saint appears again, taking careful strides as he balances a bowl of water stacked with towels. I can see the beads of cum on the tip of his cock as he sits next to me, without a doubt able to go for another round.
The exact opposite of my pussy and asshole.
Always the creature of orderly fashion, Saint folds the towels in a line on the bed, when finished he takes the soaked one out of the bowl to ring out. Then, with an unreadable expression on his face, he spreads my thighs gently until I’m fully exposed to him.
I don’t argue, because I know, like his darkness earlier, Saint needs his light now just as much.
So, instead, I tilt my head to admire him as he presses the wet cloth to my sore spot, its warmth bringing me some comfort but not enough to stifle a wince.
“I really fucking hate what I just did,” he admits, and at first I think it’s from my reaction, but when he’s bringing the towel to the bowl I see it’s tinged with pink.
Still, I don’t regret a single minute.
I’ve been bleeding a lot recently, at least this time it came with two sets of orgasms.
Trying my best not to wince again, I lift onto my elbows. “Saint, drop the towel and look at me.” He does the first, barely the second. “I knew what I was getting into, okay? Everything you just did to me is exactly what I wanted.”
“But I hurt you.”
“Yeah. And I’ll probably waddle out of this room like a penguin. But you know what?” I grin and crook a finger, not stopping until he’s close enough for my lips to tease his ear. “Penguins are kinky motherfuckers who like getting it from the back.”
Riddle me this.
What girl returns to school after two months just to skip four out of her eight classes?
Hendrix Montgomery, that’s who.
In my defense, I didn’t actually walk into the academic wing until after third period.
And fourth period was Calculus.
Honey bunches of fucking nope. No grazie . No thank you.
I was not kicking off my return to the kingdom listening to cranky old Mr. Wentzel blowing snot into a handkerchief.
Mr. Beckett on the other hand?
Him I can get on board with.
Something all of my people seem to agree with.
“I’m so freaking happy you’re back in school, Hen.” Bex practically squeezes whatever’s left of Saint out of me.
My eyes dart around the classroom, then at her with a raised brow. “Should I be saying the same to you?”
“No way.” Bex leans back into her desk. “I’m strictly here today for moral support.” She pauses. “And to hand over the essay I forgot to give to Beckett.”
“For a week,” Beckett deadpans, slapping today’s assignment down on her desk.
A story about a small town in Italy. Go figure.
“I told you Potato ate the first one,” Bex argues. “You even laughed when I sent you the pictures.”
“And the four days after that?”
“I was with Crayton!”
Beckett rolls his eyes playfully as he gives the last five of us papers.
Yup. Five. Because Bex isn’t the only extra body in the room.
“Oh, no thank you.” Theory, perched on top of the desk next to Leviathan, holds up a hand when he gets to her. “Quiet reading assignments isn’t really my thing.”
“Then speak the assignment out loud.”
“Yeah…speaking isn’t really my thing either.”
“So then why are you here, Theory?”
“What Bex said. Duh.”
Not bothering to beat a dead princess, Beckett takes off down the row, leaving me, Saint, Theory, Bex, Archer, and Levi to our little circle of truants.
“How’s the cuts on your head doing?” Archer asks as I tie my hair up in a bun.
“Still sensitive to touch, but other than that, the side mirror didn’t stand a chance.”
The joke was meant to keep the conversation light but fails miserably when all it’s met with is uncomfortable silence.
I blow out an exaggerated breath. “So, what’d I miss? Anything juicy?”
“Other than Archer’s dad about to throw his hat in the governor’s race?” Bex jumps right in, then covers her mouth with an oops.
It’s a string of more awkward events as my mouth falls open, Saint’s head whips to the side, Theory mumbles, “oh shit,” and a stone-faced Leviathan clenches his jaw.
In other words, I don’t need to see my best friend’s foot to know it just kicked my other best friend under the desk.
“Nothing is set in stone,” Archer addresses everyone but Levi.
Who, judging by the steam coming from his ears, is probably the one who needs convincing the most.
The reason why hits as a memory from the hospital, one specifically of his uncle, Riggs’ father.
“Wait.” I blink a few times. “Isn’t Riggs’ dad running for governor?”
“He is,” Archer responds tightly.
“And isn’t your dad an attorney?”
“ He is .” Archer’s tight turns to grit.
“So how the hell is he gonna manage that?”
“Anyone can run, Jimi,” Saint comments, unbothered as he sneaks a damn hand under my skirt.
Guess our little talk about the state of my asshole helped.
Which, by the way, has had me leaning on one side the entire time we’ve been in the classroom. That, plus the look of constipation Archer insinuated earlier, definitely has a poll going on whether or not I’m about to shit myself.
So, no, Saint Matthias Lavell, you cannot finger fuck me right now.
For the benefit of discretion, I pump the brakes on Saint’s hand by flipping the backwards hat off his head. Then, as he’s scrambling to catch it, I tell him, “I know, stupid. I meant with his career and shit.”
“The fuck, Jimi?!” He smooths the hat back on. “I just had this one cleaned.”
Ignoring Saint’s dramatics, I focus my attention on Levi. “Please tell me you heard from Riggs.”
Levi tsks.
“Well, has your father said anything?”
Levi scoffs.
“Have you tried getting into the rehab facility again?”
Levi purses his lips.
Making it abundantly clear that I am not on the list of people he’s willing to give answers to regarding his cousin’s disappearance.
Or at least not with Archer in earshot.
Holy shit. As if the tension wasn’t already palpable between Archer and Riggs.
“What about your mom?” Theory questions, dangling her feet off the desk. “She has to have checked in with her sister.”
“My aunt doesn’t know shit either.”
Levi answers his best friend’s little sister.
“Just give me a few days, brother. Alright?” Saint claps Levi on the back. “I’ll hack into Safeguard’s system to see if I can find out anything.”
Levi nods, but for the rest of English, sticks mostly to himself.
The remainder of the day was spent pretty much like in English—with my crew of babysitters following me around, sparking conversations and subtle questions to confirm I wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown.
Which I got pretty close to doing during eighth period chem, the classroom being the only one in the school that offers a clear view of the parking lot.
A detail I forgot until after I sat in a seat next to the window.
My subconscious had me looking through it every few minutes, expecting to find Carlo doing his usual juggle between inspecting cars and sitting around drinking his Manhattan Specials.
The nostalgia was just for me the first few times I came up empty, but after an Escalade identical to Carlo’s pulled into the lot I nearly lost it.
A cry choked out of me, loud enough to draw eyes from everyone, and when the attention and emotions got too heavy, I ran out of the room.
The school day ended for me after that, and now it’s hours later, only Archer, Bex, and me getting some alone time in my dorm room.
“C’mon, babe take a bite.” Bex pushes the Styrofoam container closer to me on the table, packed with curly fries and an uneaten cheeseburger. “You barely ate anything all day.”
“Still working on the appetite thing.”
She picks up the burger and practically slaps it in my hand. “Nuh-uh. I’m way too jealous of your sexy curves for them to get reduced to my skinny bones.”
“Straight facts,” Archer adds through a mouthful of quesadilla.
“Asshole!” Bex hits him.
“I meant the sexy curves part, damn!”
We laugh together for a moment, then, as the two of them watch, I take my first bite.
Immediately I’m hit with the heavy taste of meat and grease, which, in the past would light up my taste buds.
But after surviving off bars and shakes for so long, all the burger does is make nausea churn in my gut.
Still, I fight through it, marking real food as another lifelong privilege Carlo would want me to have.
“Good girl.” Bex nods like a genie, then goes back to munching on her own cheeseburger.
I’m forcing the food down my throat when Archer asks, “So, what made you finally decide to come back?”
“Carlo did.”
He pauses mid chew, and so does Bex.
“How so?”
I haven’t told anyone but Saint about Carlo’s gun, knowing with it comes speeches I’m not sacrificing my peace for.
As for my mom, auntie, and Vic, they believe it’s the picture frame of Carlo and me hanging next to my drawings.
“Just realized staying out of danger and focusing on my future is what he would’ve wanted.”
They nod in unison.
“Makes sense,” Archer agrees. “You were better off doing that from the beginning anyway.”
Archer’s right, and in an effort to honor Carlo, I did make the decision to step back from what the three families have going on.
It’s the only reason I didn’t make a fuss catching Matteo trailing Saint’s Range Rover on our way to the studio the other day.
Along with our trip back to school.
But out of all the things Archer could say at this moment, he goes with something I’ve been blaming myself for for months.
What little drive I had to eat screeches to a halt, and I drop the cheeseburger back in the container, staring blankly at it as Bex intervenes.
“Seriously, dude?” Bex must be a mind reader, because she adds, “Of all things?”
Archer holds up his hands in defense, voice remorseful but serious. “I’m just saying…the truth isn’t always worth the price you have to pay to get it.”
His words, they slice through me like a knife, and when I glance over at Archer I can tell how badly he knows he fucked up. The way Bex’s tears are mirroring mine tells me she knows it too.
And just like that…the emptiness creeps up on me like a draft through the floor. Cracking, breathing, threatening to suck me down into its abyss.
If only I didn’t make Carlo take me to the store.
If only I wore a coat.
If only he had his necklace to protect him.
I can see with my own eyes as the floorboards part beneath me, turning what was once a draft into a brutal cold freezing my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t fucking breathe.
With two hands on the table, I rise slowly out of the seat. “Please leave.”
Archer’s at my side in an instant, panicked as he rubs a hand down my arm. “Shit, Hen. I’m so fucking sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”
I recoil from his touch, then take a step back when Bex reaches for me too. “It’s fine, just go.”
In reality, it’s not fine, because ever since the issues started with my mom and Vic, Archer’s done nothing but side with their decisions on everything.
Question mine about everything.
When they wanted to drag me to Washington, he gave me shit about refusing to go. When they first forced me to have a bodyguard, he told me to quit being defiant. Quit snooping. Quit making things harder.
In the most inadvertent way possible, Archer has been suggesting for months that I sit crisscross and do good listening.
Pretty much like he’s done his whole life.
Yes, he loves me, cares about me, has been worried sick about me.
And maybe I should’ve listened to everyone.
But I would never side with anyone but my best friends.
Or suggest they settle for less than they deserve.
Since day one I deserved to know the truth about what’s going on in this family. As did Saint and Theory.
“Please, let me explain. I don’t wanna leave you this upset,” Archer insists, and when his hand rubs my arm again it stings like broken glass.
“I’ve just been worried sick about you. This whole situation is fucked up, Hen.
Not only for you, trust me. You’re my best friend, I love you, all I want is for you to be okay. ”
I want to say to Archer I love him back.
That he’s already forgiven.
But the emptiness’ mouth is too wide, fangs are too sharp, and the only person able to stop it from swallowing me whole is too far away to save me.
I don’t need Archer’s apology, I need my anchor.
I need Saint.