Page 31 of Revenge At Raleigh High
I bite down on the inside of my lip. I will not speak. I will not moan. I will not make a sound. Alex waits a second, his eyes running me through, stretching out the moment, torturing me just a second longer…but then he flicks at my clitoris with the tip of his tongue, thrusting his fingers back inside me, and my head lights up with fireworks. This time when he pinches my nipple, savage enough to make me want to pull away from the burning agony of the pain, I don’t make a single fucking sound.
Alex sucks at my pussy, massaging my clit with his tongue at the same time, and my head rips back, hanging loose between my shoulders.
For all intents and purposes, I’m naked. My tits are bare, my legs are spread as wide as they can go, my pussy exposed to anyone who might walk into the music room, but I don’t care. All that matters are Alex’s teeth applying a dizzying pressure to my clit, promising more pain, and his fingers, which are now slamming into me so hard that I can hardly breathe around the sensation.
I chant to myself, the words searing the back of my throat.Fuckfuckfuck. Please…let me come. Alex, let me come.Down to the last muscle, my body tenses; I’m a quivering wreck as I hover on the brink of annihilation, waiting for it to claim me. The crushing sensation builds and builds, ready to crash over me any second. Alex reads my body as easily as an open book. He rumbles, curling his fingers inside me, beckoning me toward my climax, and that one small movement sends me hurtling over the edge.
My body takes over, my thighs clamping hard around Alex’s head. His teeth find the sweet, sensitive spot just to the inside of my thigh again, and I can’t take it anymore. I let the tumbling, falling madness take me, riding it out blindly, my eyes rolling back into my skull.
“That’s it. Good girl. Show me. Show me how much you need it,” Alex hisses.
I convulse against him, everything suddenly much too much, too sensitive, the feeling of his fingers inside me, his thumb against my clit, enough to make me squirm off of the damn stool. “Shit, stop, stop, stop. I can’t…I can’t…”
Can’t handle how good it feels one second longer.
You see, Alex knows this as well as I do: Pain and pleasure are interchangeable. What should cause us to cry out in agony sometimes evokes ecstasy. And the afterburn of an orgasm can sometimes feel so intense that tolerating it for one moment longer becomes physically impossible.
Alex laughs darkly as he withdraws his fingers, enjoying the way I shake and shiver just a little too much. “It’s like watching a star explode when you come,Argento.”
I’m too slack-limbed and dazed to ask him whether that’s a good or a bad thing. Getting to his feet, he draws me to him, letting my head rest against his stomach for a second while I catch my breath. I feel like a cat, deliriously content and satisfied as he gently pets me, running his hands over my hair, whispering things to me in Italian.
“Shhh, respire cuore mio. Rilassare. Tutto a posto. Sono qui, mi prenderò cura di te.”
I persuade myself not to ask him what he’s saying. His voice is hushed, little more than a whisper. I get the feeling the soft susurrus of his words are for himself and himself alone. The silence is shattered a split second later by the blaring shriek of the bell. Both of us nearly jump out of our skin. “Fuck.” Alex snatches up my jeans and thrusts them at me in a hurry. “Quick,Argento. We need to get the fuck out of here. Immediately.”
I’m laughing, my heart beating out of my chest as I pull my clothes back on, hands fumbling over my bra straps, my heels getting caught inside legs of my pants. A clamor of voices and footsteps echo up to us through the open door to the music room, signaling that not one but a number of people are racing up the stairs towards us. I’ve just jammed my right foot back into my Converse when Sophie Maines comes flying through the doorway, her eyes as big as saucers. Three other freshman bustle in behind her, all young girls I don’t know.
“What the fuck are you doing in here? Haven’t you guys heard?” Sophie pants, slapping her palm against her chest. “There’s all kinds of crazy shit going on outside Darhower’s office. Cillian Dupris was found half frozen down by the gully. They think he’s been out there for hours.”
Cillian Dupris’ name is like a slap to the face. I recoil from it, physically taking a step back, the stool behind me tipping…until Alex catches it up and sets it back on its feet.
A low, mournful siren wails in the distance, growing louder and louder; all six of us stand in front of the bank of windows in the music room, watching the small white block-shaped vehicle racing up the winding hill toward Raleigh.
An ambulance.
“Poor Cillian,” Sophie says. “First he gets shot by that lunatic and ends up in a wheelchair. Then he winds up falling out of it in the snow and suffering from exposure. It just doesn’t seem right.”
“Seems perfectly right to me,” Alex counters under his breath.
I dart a sideways look at him, ears burning, feeling…what the hell am I feeling? “Alex?” I hiss through my teeth.
He doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t even look away from the window. The line of his jaw is hard, a muscle ticking in his neck. “Come on. We’d better get to class,” he says stiffly.
The ambulance finally pulls into the parking lot. Karen Gilcrest, Principle Darhower’s assistant, totters out across the slushy snow in her high heels, hands fluttering everywhere as she gesticulates wildly back inside the school, calling out to the EMTs. Alex gives the scene below one last bored, uninterested glance, then takes me by the hand and pulls me away from the window.
The halls are empty as we head toward physics, and our footfall echoes off the walls. I’m too disturbed by the mental image of Cillian being lifted onto a gurney to even really notice the sound. The beautiful boy with the black hair and the intricate ink, leading me down the hall, away from the fray at the entrance of the school, begins to hum a jaunty, bawdy kind of song that makes you want to tap your foot. Sounds like an old pirate reel.
I pull at his hand. “Alex? Alessandro Moretti, tell me you had nothing to do with this.”
He looks down at me over his shoulder, a wry smile tugging up one side of his mouth. Utterly remorseless. “As a proud citizen of this fine country,Dolcezza, in this particular instance it is my right and privilege to exercise the fifth.”
12
ALEX
The Rock is wall-to-wall bodies when I walk through the front door. The walls are running with condensation from all the body heat, sweat, and evaporating snow the crowd have trekked in on their winter boots. It’s always like this after bad weather. Trapped inside for days, the locals go a little stir crazy holed up in their own houses, so the moment the roads clear and the snow ploughs have finished their work, people converge on the baren masse. I would have entered in through the back of the building, but the parking lot was a fucking nightmare and I couldn’t even get to the entrance.
“Alex! Hey, baby boy! Come to join the party?” Stella, one of Monty’s favorite dancers, shouts at me from the stage. She’s completely naked, but I’m a fucking pro at this game. I perfected the art of maintaining eye contact with the girls a long, long time ago. “Come on, baby. Pull up a pew. I’ll give you a dance, my treat.” She gives me a wriggle of her shoulders, making her tits bounce for me, and the group of punters seated at her feet all groan and grouse—they’ve probably been sitting there for the last fifteen minutes, dropping dollar bills at her stilettoed feet, and now she’s offering a free dance to some punk kid who just showed up out of the cold? Yeah, that’s enough to make any man gripe.
