Defy (Sinners of Saint, #0.5)

by L.J. Shen

There was Jaime, who spent my class texting the whole world and drawing the attention of every girl who wasn’t tongue-deep into Trent Rexroth, the underprivileged mocha-skinned football star, who made out with random chicks in the back. He once had a girl sucking his cock under his table in calculus. I kid you not. There was Dean Cole, the airheaded stoner who enjoyed pranks and annoying me in equal measure, and finally, Baron “Vicious” Spencer, the World’s Biggest Jerk.

Vicious was by far the worst. He made good on his name. So goddamned cold and sullen all the time that people nicknamed him after Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols. He had coal black hair, expressionless eyes, fair skin, and the kind of rebellious anger that could electrify you to the point of the chills. The permanent tick of his clenched square jaw made girls wet their panties from fear and lust. He was a jock, like all the HotHoles, but he was leaner than the rest, not as muscular. But scarier. Definitely fucking scarier.

I smacked the detention slip on Jaime’s desk, and he jerked his eyes up, beaming a smile at me so sinister my panties melted into gooey, sweet liquid. We both knew what I was doing. Awarding him with one-on-one time with me, exactly what he wanted.

“I don’t only want to fuck a teacher. I want to fuck my Lit teacher. She’s got sass, great ass, long legs, and even though she thinks I haven’t figured her out, I know that behind the prissy disguise is a woman who curses like a sailor and can outdrink anyone on my football team.”

“I won’t tell,” he whispered into my neck, making me shiver with pleasure. “Neither will you. A nice short fling, Ms. G. I’ll move to Texas to play college football. You’ll move on to an ugly-ass accountant with a good heart or some shit. Someone to make babies with. That’s all. Now what do you say, Melody?”

Jaime Followhill kissed me, the most intoxicating kiss I’d ever had. The minute his mouth slammed over mine, my toes curled inside my sensible pumps. It wasn’t just the urgency of his hot mouth or the sweet taste of his gum but also his drugging male scent. He invaded every inch of my pores, kissing me like he had something to prove, a point to make. I grabbed his smooth-cheeked face with abandon and inhaled, while he opened my mouth with his tongue and devoured me like I was his fucking last meal.

His tongue attacked mine, owning my mouth, licking every part and swallowing my needy moans. I wasn’t surprised when his hand dug into my ass and he yanked me into his erection. He rubbed himself against me, shamelessly jerking off on me, grabbing one of my hands and placing it against his impressive cock.

“Is mine until school ends. I will eat it, fuck it, play with it, and sleep in it if I want to. And I want to. I wanna do all those things to you.”

“We’re going to be exclusive. If I catch you spreading those toned legs for anyone else, he’s gonna regret he was born with a dick.” Oh yeah? Was he going to resist all the temptation that was swarming around him like bad BO at Coachella? As if reading my mind, he added, “My cock will only have two homes. Your mouth and your pussy. Ass, too, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

Oh, Melody, you are so fucked. Luckily for me, I was about to get fucked even harder.

“No, you listen to me. James is a brat. Don’t you think I know that? What he did to your car… he should have left a note after he hit you, not driven away. It looks bad, but he simply panicked. He explained it all to me. No need to file a police report. I assure you he’s very, very sorry, and he’s going back to the student-parking lot from now on. I’ll write you a check for your repairs, and I’ll, of course, compensate you for the inconvenience as well. I’ll be damned if I’ll allow one reckless decision to tarnish my son’s reputation.”

Booze and eighteen-year-old jocks who are hung like a horse made this girl hella happy.

“I don’t do blow jobs. I have a really bad gag reflex,”

Holy shit, it was beautiful. Not nine inches like the cheerleaders were whispering about in class (they sucked at geometry, that should’ve been my first clue) but almost—it was just picture-perfect. Postcards-and-stamps worthy. He had the sleekest, smoothest shaft, a prominent head, and a thick velvety vein. And a tilt. To the right.

I licked and sucked and got addicted to the sounds that left Jaime’s mouth. I gave in and gave it my all. He kept on rubbing his toe against my swollen clit, and the feeling of an impending orgasm fired every nerve-ending in my body. My knees shook with pleasure, and I greedily rubbed my pussy against his toe. I was sure my OB/GYN would have a lot to say about the hygiene of this act, but at that moment, none of that mattered.

“You’re it. You’re so. Fucking. It. Smart, sassy, and witty, and unimpressed with all the wealth and bullshit drama around you. You have no idea how hot you are. Which makes you even hotter. This is fucking happening, baby. We’re happening.”

“This week was an introduction,” he warned. “Today…today, baby, I’m marking you as mine.”

“Jaime.” I bit my lower lip. “Fuck me like you mean it.” “Then act like you fucking want it,” he growled, grazing my shoulder with his teeth. “Don’t stand me up. Don’t give me shit when I’m ten minutes late, and don’t try and act like you don’t want this.”

I found a hot boy who knows how to go down on a woman thirteen different ways), and why my cheeks were so flushed (see the answer to question number two).

“Next time I catch you stalking me from across the road,” he whispered into my ear, close enough for it to look suspicious but not enough for people to talk about it afterwards, “you better come say hi. Better yet, you better show me how much you miss me with your lips, instead of stripping me with your eyes.”

Jaime: It’s cute how you pretend to listen to Millie when I know your just waiting for the clock to hit 3 so I can bend you over that desk and fuck you so hard the windows will rattle.

Dean Cole had his elbows on his desk, leaning forward, drinking her words like they were oxygen. And Vicious? He looked at her like she was his.

Jaime: Your nipples are so tight I could cut fucking diamonds with them, baby. It’s a turn on when everyone can see what I do to you. In half an hour, I’m going to shove my hand into your pencil skirt and my fingers into that pussy. Digging into Ms. G’s G-spot and hitting it again and again until you pass out from your orgasms.

Jaime: Then I’ll take my hand out, let you lick my fingers one by one, suck on them hard, and beg for me to take you. But I won’t. You’ll have to go down on me first, and I’ll make you choke on my cock until you can’t breathe. How would you like that, Mel?

So lost. So confused. So fucking mine. Owning someone has never felt this good.

If Vicious was the evil one, and Dean was the stoner one, and Trent was the lost, beautiful soul searching for its mate, Jaime was the cement that glued them together. He was the guy you could always count on. And I was starting to count on him too.

That I was in love with my student. I’d tried to convince myself that it was just sex. It wasn’t. It was pizza nights and laughing under my cheap, itchy blanket and nicknaming each other stupid names. I was Little Ballerina, while he was Giraffe Tongue, for reasons that gave me countless orgasms. It was watching Tarantino movies and stealing breathless kisses at school, two thieves of pleasure, begging to confess their crime. I was spellbound, desperate, and possessed. And I knew with certainty that once he graduated and moved away for college, the blow would be just as hard as my subway accident.

“The first time I saw you,” he began, “I wanted to slap my name on your ass, let everyone know that I was going to be the only guy to tap that shit. You looked like a princess, Mel. An insanely hot princess with a perfect posture and unruly curls.” He smirked. “’Course, acting on it was out of the question. A fantasy. Then I came home that first day of my senior year, and Mom wouldn’t shut up about you. Melody this and Melody that. How bad you were at your job, how you were gonna ruin Mr. Pitterman’s legacy, blah blah, bullshit blah. She hated your guts. Gave you the job only because he croaked so suddenly.”

“You became a favorite topic at our dinner table. She loathed your ass.” Jaime took a sip, wincing from the bite of the tequila. “You were pretty and young and completely unimpressed by her power and the status and stinking money that runs our fucked-up little town.” He spoke with his eyes squeezed shut. Embarrassed, probably for the first time in his life. “You were a good teacher. That’s why I never gave you shit. It wasn’t your fault we were a bunch of privileged assholes.”

“I told Mom to shut her trap numerous times. Not because I wanted to defend you but because gossiping about you was feeding a monster inside me. Talking about you only made it harder for me to ignore you. So fucking hot…” He nodded his head and bit his full lip, eyes still closed. “When I heard how you had to drop out of Julliard, I wanted to die for you. I had a feeling teaching wasn’t your calling. I kept thinking about eighteen-year-old you. My age. Your heart broken by bad luck, shattered by an accident that’d left more than a physical scar.”

“You were the perfect sin to commit, Melody. Begging to be taken. Untouched by the rest of Todos Santos’s posing and entitlement. I got hooked. From that day on, I followed you everywhere like an eager puppy. To the supermarket, the gas station…the fucking park every morning before practice, where I watched you doing yoga positions and tried not to rub a quick one out behind a tree. I followed you on blind dates, and when I realized you’d never met the idiots before, I also found your dating account and opened a profile under a fake name just so I could stalk you better.”

“Somewhere between the quest of wanting to fuck you and secretly rebelling against my mom, I fell in love with you. It wasn’t a beautiful process. Hell…” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t even romantic. But it happened. Because you’re strong but vulnerable. Witty as fuck but not bitter or deliberately mean. Because I had to chase your ass to nail you down, and you still keep me on my toes. But if we’re going to keep going on like this, where I have to convince you to give me the time of the day while you look over your shoulder, constantly trying to shake me off, I need to bail out of this before I get hurt.”

“Men with big cocks have fragile hearts. You know the saying: big cock, big heart. Well, I’m proof it’s true.”

Because I think about you before I think about myself. Always remember that, Little Ballerina. Always.

“It’s not my mess. Jaime courted me. Hell, Jaime manipulated me. Maybe he does have a bit of his mom in him after all. But the bottom line is we’re together, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I love you, too, Mel. Fucking crazy about you, actually. Now pack up.”

“I probably should warn you, it’s not an engagement ring. I’m waiting to turn twenty-one so the trust fund my grandparents have under my name will kick in. I’ll be richer and Starbucks-free. You deserve something incredible. But in the meantime, here’s something to make you remember your high school fling from two years ago.”

I’m so in love. So completely out-of-my-mind crazy about this boy who grew up to be a man and has given up so many things to be with me. College party life. Football. Things that were his very essence of being two years ago.

“It’s a truth. And sometimes, when you piss me off, it’s a dare. But it’s my life, and you’re a part of it. Always and forever,” I say. “Always and forever,”

“I bought it for myself. I was at JFK airport, just about to board the plane back to California after breaking my leg. I wanted something to believe in. More like – someone to believe in. I had no one. My parents were supportive and sad for me, but they didn’t understand. Not really. My friends were scattered all around the country, chasing their own college dreams, creating new, sweet memories. And there I was. Alone. I needed someone. I saw this necklace at a store. I don’t even remember the name. They sold hoodies saying “I Love New York” for ridiculous prices. It cost me a lot, but I remember thinking to myself – I need this. I’m going to get this.”