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HAWTHORN
With my back against the wall, I scan the parking lot for the thousandth time, but no matter how many times I look, she’s not here. The front steps are almost empty now, but I still search the faces of the handful of girls who are gossiping and waiting for a glimpse at the now-infamous Penelope Rhodes, the girl stupid enough to walk away from a fortune. But none of them are her. I think a part of me knew she wouldn’t come to school today, but I’m still here, searching for her, just in case. I don’t like Penelope, I never have, but what happened between us isn’t something I can forget, no matter how hard I try. I’ve tried to rationalize that it’s guilt I’m feeling, not anything more…emotional. Maybe this craving I have for her is simply because we shared something that changed me, but whatever it is, I can’t just pretend like it didn’t happen. Which is why I’m still standing here waiting for her to arrive, because if she does, I don’t want her to be alone.
I only caught a glimpse of her at the party, barely a passing glance before she was gone. But she did it; she broke the will. She freed both herself and her sister from its constraints and confronted her parents, and then she just walked away. She didn’t even stick around long enough to celebrate, she just left.
Izzy is beside herself; she’s been calling and texting her sister nonstop, but she hasn’t replied, not since the one and only text Penelope sent her telling her to enjoy her fucking party. Izzy is terrified that their parents have Penelope, that they’ve taken her and plan to use her to get revenge, but I think my Princess has just gone to ground. I think she’s holed up somewhere, alone, hating herself.
Exhaling, I push off the wall and stroll into school, hoisting my backpack higher up onto my shoulder. She should be here; she should be celebrating. She should be with me. Pulling my cell from my pocket, I hover my finger over her name in my contacts. I have her cell number now, but I haven’t called her or even sent her a text because I already know she’ll ignore me.
Her absence shouldn’t affect me. We weren’t friends before I pushed my dick into her body and filled her with my cum, and we aren’t friends now. But there’s something between us that I’m not ready to forget. After she left me, I spent three hours sailing, but it did nothing to eradicate her from my thoughts. I’d planned to…I don’t really know what I’d planned to do, but I wanted to see her at the party, to see if this ache in my chest went away when she was close. But instead, all I saw of her was a glimpse of her striding through the ballroom in an indecently tight black dress.
It’s been nearly two days since she slid into the back of a cab and left, and yet not a moment has gone by when I haven’t been thinking about the way it felt to be inside of her, the sound of her soft mewls of pleasure, and how right it felt to demand her complete submission.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched and re-watched the video of the two of us together, but enough that my dick gets hard at even the mention of her name, and I know that fucking someone else isn’t an option until I get rid of this craving I have for her.
Her leaving has definitely dented my pride, but this need for her feels like more than just wanting to make her feel as fucking addicted as I am. I might have been the one who said fucking her was a one-time thing, but I was wrong. One taste wasn’t enough. Now I just need to find her and let her know that she’s not free until I let her go, and I’m nowhere near done with her.
“Where is she?” Izzy asks the moment I step into homeroom.
I shrug. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t look like she’s coming to school today.”
“She’ll be fine, she’s probably just taking a couple of days to get her head around everything that’s happened,” Gulliver tries to assure her, pulling her into his lap and pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Have you tried calling her this morning?” I ask Izzy.
“Twice, and I’ve texted her. She’s not even looking at my messages, but her cell is turned on, so she must know I’m trying to call her. What if they have her? What if they’ve done something awful to her?” Izzy gasps.
“What would be the point? We all saw the letter from the lawyers, it’s over. Nothing your parents do can change that,” Olly says.
“He’s right, Little Ghost, your mom and dad have nothing to gain from taking Penelope,” Gulliver says in a soothing tone.
Nodding, Izzy sighs, then turns to me. “What happened between the two of you?”
“She broke the will,” I say casually, unwilling to talk about what my Princess and I shared. I know Izzy, Gulliver, and the others want to know exactly what I did to help Penelope break the will. I know they must suspect that we had sex, but it feels wrong to admit it without her here. If she decides to tell her sister, I don’t care, but I don’t plan to confirm it either way.
“Have you spoken to her?” Izzy asks me again, her eyes shrewd as she watches me.
“No, I haven’t. If I had, I’d tell you,” I assure her, leaning down and pressing a kiss against her cheek before I take my seat and wait for the teacher to take roll call.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Kip asks as we make our way to our first class.
Forcing a neutral expression onto my face, I sigh. “It’s over, bro. The will’s broken, and the girls are free from their fucked-up parents. Penelope will turn up soon, and then Izzy can stop freaking out.”
Scoffing, Kip shakes his head. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you didn’t answer my question. I bet she wasn’t such a cold bitch when she was riding your dick.”
Clenching my jaw, I swallow down my biting reply, even though the need to defend Penelope burns inside of me. I loved fucking her, and I can’t wait to do it again, but why am I suddenly angry at my friends for saying the exact same thing I was thinking only days ago? Why am I so fucking worried about her? And why the hell am I having to fight the urge to threaten one of my best friends, that if he ever talks about my woman like that again, I’ll fucking kill him?
I’m so distracted with all of the unanswered questions that are swirling around my mind that I don’t pay attention in class—not that it matters, I could stop turning up altogether and still graduate. One of the joys of being rich is that money and influence are more powerful than academic prowess, and I received my early decision letter from my parents’ alma mater, Cornell, weeks ago.
Ignoring the teacher, I slide my cell from my blazer pocket and open my text app, typing out a message to Penelope before I can think better of it.
Me
Where are you, Princess?
Staring at the screen for a minute, I wait for the ticks to turn blue and show that she’s read my message, but nothing happens. It’s driving me fucking crazy, but I’m not exactly surprised that she’s ignoring me, just like she’s ignoring Izzy. By the time the lunch bell rings, I’m starting to get really fucking angry. I told her that I was in charge until this was over, and it’s far from fucking over. I know she knows how to be compliant and obedient, so the fact that she’s blatantly ignoring me feels like a challenge, like she’s taunting me to enforce my dominance over her.
My annoyance only builds during the rest of the day, and by the time I’m heading for my Mercedes, I’m seething and ready to hunt my defiant Princess down.
