Defy (Sinners of Saint 0.5)

“How did you know I’m on the pill?” The silence rang so loud, I felt the urge to break it.

“Saw them on your bathroom counter. Duh.”

“Well, let’s get nekkid and do some dirty stuff then. I know it’s Friday, and you probably want to hang out with your friends later.” I grabbed the hem of my shirt and started getting undressed.

He stopped me, his palm on my hand. “Take it easy, missy. No rush. Let’s watch a crappy nineties movie together while we wait for the pizza. I’m going to sleep here tonight.”

I frowned. Vicious threw balls-out parties every weekend, and the HotHoles were always in full attendance. It was mandatory or some shit. I happened to know this because at All Saints getting invited to these things meant that you were one of the cool kids. I also happened to know there was a party tonight because yesterday the hallways were filled with hushed convos about which guys were going to be challenged to a fight in Defy and which girls were going to get inside Vicious’s private media room where the HotHoles hung out.

“What about Vicious’s party?” I asked. The last few weeks, the mere idea of having Jaime sitting there in the secluded room with young, willing women offering themselves to him made me lose my mind. I hated those parties, and despised Vicious even more for throwing them.

“I’m planning an even bigger party between your legs tonight.” He wiggled his brows at me.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “I think I like you,” I muttered, pressing my face to his muscled torso in a hug. I felt his heartbeat under my ear.

“I think I like you back.”

My heart nearly exploded, and I found myself clutching the anchor on my necklace for dear life, knowing that this time, it couldn’t save me from falling deeper into whatever the hell that was we were creating.

Actually, I knew exactly what it was.

Magic.

It’s been psychologically proven. People lie to themselves in order to protect themselves from the things they do. From what they think and feel. I was in denial when it came to Jaime Followhill. In my head, I downplayed the whole thing. Reduced it to nothing but some fun. But the truth was, I was never so intrigued by a man.

Defy.

That’s what I wondered about most. Why did he fight? He didn’t look like the type who needed a violent outlet to unwind. Vicious, sure. But Jaime? No. He seemed like a laid-back guy.

So after the movie and pizza (no onions. He remembered), I asked him.

I prepped him beforehand. Knew that Jaime was not going to open up about things that had to do with his friends so easily. I got down on my knees and took him—all of him—deep in my mouth, covering most of his shaft, my fist doing the rest. He groaned and yanked my head back and forth, my hair in his fist.

“I’m going to come in your mouth,” he announced. He stood, one foot lazily propped back against my fridge, in all his naked six foot three inch glory.

I moaned into his hot flesh, lolling my head from side to side. I liked it. To feel admired and desired by a younger man. He was driving me crazy…but I was driving him wild.

My moan encouraged him, and he emptied himself inside my mouth. The warm, salty liquid shot straight into my throat, and I swallowed it instantly, desperate for every drop of him.

After his release, he glided down the front of my fridge, sinking into a sit-down position, his knees bent, as he slowly let go of my hair. We both grinned, the kind of private smile only we knew how to decode. I doubted I could give that smile to someone else, even if I’d tried.

“What’s up?” He grabbed my hand, offhand and confident, and jerked me to sit between his legs. I did, purring into his mouth as we shared a slow, seductive kiss. “Look at my Little Ballerina, learning how to give head like it’s the eighties.”

“What happened in the eighties?” I asked, feeling ridiculously stupid. You’d think I know more about the decade than he did. He shrugged.

“Nothing. People liked giving head, I guess.”

I shook my head on a laugh. He was so ridiculous sometimes, but that’s exactly what made it so easy to unwind with this guy. I flattened my palm against his chest. “I need to ask you something.”

“Uh-oh. Am I in trouble, Ms. Greene? Have I been a bad boy? Do I need a spanking?” He wiggled his brows and laughed.

God, he was sexy. And God, it was creepy.

I shook my head, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t see his reaction to my blush. “Tell me about Defy,” I said.

None of the teachers knew much about Defy, other than the injuries we spotted on Monday mornings. Students got into bloody fights at Vicious’s parties, and there was nothing we could do about it.