11. Rhys

Youknowyou’vehad a good night when you wake up cuddling your vibrator. Big Jim was sitting snug between the twins, AKA my tits, while Little Jim was under my thigh tangled in my sheets, and Pink Peter Rabbit was digging into my lower back. Did I watch three hours of non-stop porn while fucking my battery-operated love gods? Duh! Yes!

Am I sated? No, I’m fucking famished!

My appetite is growing by the hour, and I’ll be honest, it’s freaking me out a little. Nothing good ever comes from having this insatiable randiness pulsing through my Kitty. In fact, I may have to rename her. She’s becoming more of a vicious tiger than a fucking cute kitten.

To try and take the edge off before I leave for school, I rub myself up against any surface I can find in my bedroom and bathroom until I have extracted another four o’s. It’s a futile attempt. The only thing that will get me through longer than a class period is flesh on flesh. What I need is withering body against body. Lips clashing. Tongues dancing. Breath’s mingling. I need a willing participant, and I haven’t even been awake for more than two hours yet.

Fuck my life!

Arriving at school after ignoring Cin’s grilling questions about my current state of mind, Garrett Cole, the mouth-watering tortured soul that broods quietly and rarely smiles, chooses today to get all up in my business. He bails me up before I can enter the building that houses my locker, towering over me like the hulk he is.

“George. Meet me in the gym at recess.” He has no idea what his demand does to my insides, liquifying my Kitty to drip molten lava.

“Oooh. You’re the dominating one, aren’t you?” I let him see the mischief on my face as his icy blue eyes study me. It’s cute that he tries to hide the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If I say no, will you spank me?”

For a few moments, he doesn’t speak. Those icy eyes pierce me, and my heart starts to race in anticipation. What is going through that head of his?

“If I say yes, I’ll spank you. Will you show up?”

I can’t help it; I throw my head back, laughing as I clutch my chest. “Touché, Mr Cole! But I need to know if I say yes, and I show up, will you actually spank me, or are you all talk?”

This time, he doesn’t hold back his grin, and man, oh man, what a fucking piece of art it is to see that smile on his face. It’s rare, like an exotic museum piece that only gets displayed once every ten years because no one wants anything to ruin its beauty.

“There’s only one way to find out. You’d better turn up Rhys.” With that final word, Garrett gives me his broad back, walking off into the sea of students that are hustling to get to their lockers before homeroom.

If I wasn’t already burning up with a needy pussy before, then holy hell, it’s on fire now. An inferno. Kitty is ravenous. I have a right mind to hunt Garrett Cole down and make him pay up on his threat. Or promise. I can’t tell which way he was leaning with our brief conversation.

After homeroom, I throw myself into my photography classwork. It’s one of the few things that keep my mind from falling too deep in the gutter, and since it’s a double lesson and Lexi is in my class, I’m able to survive without dry humping any passers by.

We are working on our final portfolio piece, which I have basically finished, but Lexi came into the class late last term, and because of all the shit that went down with her family, she is behind. Naturally, Super Rhys comes to the rescue!

My portfolio is called ‘Beauty in Darkness’, and my pieces are black and white and so dark that the focal feature is the point of highlight on bare skin. No one knows the images are of me. My long dark hair and the use of the dark contrast hide my features. When I look at these photographs of myself, I see the beauty in them. In me. It’s rare for me to see myself like that, but the way I captured myself really tells my story. It’s a story only I know, but the intrigue in each image is what draws others in.

Since we are pressed for time, Lexi has chosen the simplicity of a single object. It’s her butterfly knife. She told me that Muz, her gang thug enemy turned friend who died a few weeks back, had left it to her. She keeps it with her all the time now, even though the threat to her life is over. What happened to her haunts her. I can still see the dark circles under her eyes, probably from nightmares. I want to ask her, but with ears always ready to spread tea around the school, I decide to keep my questions for another time when we can talk properly.

When the bell for recess pings over the loudspeaker, my heart does an excited little flutter, knowing it’s time to meet Garrett Cole in the gym. I know he’s not going to spank me. That would be too easy, and there is nothing easy about Garrett Cole. But a girl can dream, and a Kitty can purr.

The school gym is new. Something my foster mum delegated to Mr Foster at the end of last term to get set up. With everything that happened to Lexi and the way she couldn’t contain her rage, it was suggested that the school provide boxing bags so students can get their anger out in a safer way. So, Mr Foster, being Mr Foster, went all out with the budget he was given. He created a gym that not only has bags to beat up but weights and bikes to exhaust yourself on. I’ve considered coming here to exercise my pent-up horniness out by exhausting myself, but shit, I’d probably end up dry humping a fucking boxing bag with the way I’m feeling.

After entering the new gym that’s been set up in an old storage area in the stadium, I glance around the practically empty space until my eyes land on taut, defined muscle. Hallelujah! Garrett Cole has his shirt off! Kitty practically leaps towards him like he’s her prey, and fuck, I think she might be right.

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna show,” Garrett speaks between the forceful punches he’s delivering to the hanging bag.

Shit, that’s hot.

“You dangled a spanking before me. As if I’d shy away from that.”

Garrett stops hitting the bag and lowers his head while shaking it. His shoulders visibly shake with the quiet chuckle that floats across the room to me. Then he tips his head back and takes a deep breath before turning to me. There’s a trail of sweat beading down his chest, and hell if my tongue doesn’t crave to lick it up.

“I’m not going to spank you.” His deep voice has a hint of humour in it as he pins me in place with those dominating eyes.

I pout. “I can be brattier if it helps?”

Again, he shakes his head at me like he can’t believe my words. He can, though. He knows what I’m like. Everyone knows what I’m like.

“Come here.” His tone is demanding, and I fight Kitty by keeping my feet firmly planted in place.

“Make me.”

“Is everything sexual to you?” The rasp in his tone tells me I have affected him. Good!

“You know it,” I say lightly, popping my hip and placing my hand on it, flashing him my teeth in a ridiculous smile.

His nostrils flare as he quietly studies me before he turns back to the bag and starts throwing punches again.

“I’m not going to make you, George. Come here or don’t. I don’t care either way.”

Ouch. Kitty didn’t like his words. Or his tone. So, of course, I go to him, not ready to end whatever this is.

“I think you do care.” My words are quiet, but because I’m closer to him, he hears them and whirls on me with fury on his face.

“You’re right! I do care! What game are you playing by fucking Marcus’ mates?”

I take a few steps back, a little thrown by Garrett’s sudden mood change. He follows me, though, looming over me with a fierce glare. “Don’t try to deny it, George. First Bossi, and then Hastings. Are you trying to fucking rip Grady’s heart out?”

The truth of Garrett’s words is like a slap to my face, reminding me of who and what I am. Someone not worthy of Marcus. Not worthy of Shaun or Simon. My chest aches right in the centre, but in true Rhys George fashion, I use the only thing I’ve got.

“Why do you care, Cole? You want a piece too?”

Lightning fast, Garrett has my chin gripped painfully in his large hand as he tips my head back, drawing close to hover his lips just over mine.

“Even if I do, I will never do that to Marcus.”

We remain there in a stand-off, eyes boring into each other’s, lips a breath apart, desperate to meet but held back by honour.

“Are you going to tell Marcus about Shaun and Simon?” There’s a quiver in my voice that I’ve never heard before. It’s not fear. I’m not scared of Garrett. So, it can only be shame.

With force, Garrett pushes my face away and steps back from me, causing me to stumble.

“No. Not if you stop.” He hisses between clenched teeth. “Even at that Lodge place you and Bossi go to. You can’t hook up there either.”

My brows practically shoot through the roof. “You know about Vixen’s Lodge?”

“I don’t know much, but I know enough,” Garrett admits, and I spin away from him as anger heats my face.

I can’t believe Bossi has divulged that confidential information. Not because I go there, but because the Feast nights are only successful because it’s top secret. How dare he spill details about that place. Then again, can I talk? Tillie and Bell know about it. They don’t know everything, but they know enough.

“I get it, you know.” Garrett’s voice is quieter this time, and he starts punching the bag again, so I turn back.

“Get what?”

“You, and why you go to that place. Why you act the way you do.” He stops punching again to look at me. All the anger that was there moments ago, now gone.

“If you’re about to call me a slut, Cole, save your breath. I know what I am, and I make no apologies for it.”

His brows shoot up this time, surprised at my words.

“I wasn’t going to say that, and I don’t think that.” His brows furrow like he’s disappointed that I’d even suggest he’d think that way.

“Enlighten me then. I can’t wait to hear your theory about me.” I cross my arms over my chest and push out my black lips in a bratty pout while I wait for him to speak.

He shrugs. “I think you have an addiction to sex. I’ve seen the tells, Rhys. I had a cousin stay with me a few years back, and he was a heroin addict. You have similar tells, maybe just not as bad.”

My pout is gone, my face neutral as I look at this all-knowing giant in front of me. When I don’t respond, he continues.

“You’re more erratic and agitated since you came back to school yesterday. Your hands tremble sometimes. I bet you haven’t been able to concentrate on much, especially when your appetite gets bad. Yesterday you were agitated as fuck until you went off with Hastings. Afterwards, you were calmer. More refreshed. More focused. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I don’t tell him he’s wrong or right because I can’t fucking speak. No one has called me out on my addiction before besides the rents and my therapist, and even then, they don’t class it as an addiction because there isn’t enough research to prove that you can actually be addicted to sex. I guess researchers haven’t met me.

“When you start feeling that way, I want you to come to me,” Garrett says quietly, stepping closer to me, tilting my head up with a single finger pressed under my chin.

“To fuck?” It’s a legitimate question.

Garrett’s lips spread into a warm grin. “No. To punch stuff.”

“To punch stuff?” I frown. “Is that a new kink I don’t know about?”

Garrett shakes his head, stepping back and picks up a set of gloves before tossing them at me. On reflex, I catch them.

“Put them on, and start punching the bag, George.”

“I’d rather fuck.” I pout.

“No fucking. You’re agitated now. You need to fuck now, so instead, punch the bag.” Garrett points a stern finger towards the bag closest to me.

“Fucking sounds like more fun,” I whine like a little bitch. “I’m pretty sure punching something isn’t going to give me the dopamine neurochemical brain high I need, Garrett.”

“Give it a try. You never know.” He insists and turns back to his bag.

I could be a bigger brat and throw the gloves down, stomp my foot and demand he spank me, but honestly, there’s a part of me that hates how he looked at me before with such disappointment at screwing his two friends. I kind of feel like I want to please him, and the only way I can do that isn’t by falling to my knees. At least not right now.

Right now, I need to punch the bag like a good girl.

Tugging on the gloves, I unhygienically use my teeth to pull the second one on properly. Let’s be honest. It’s not like I haven’t put worse in my mouth before. Once the gloves are in place, I approach the bag nearest to me and widen my stance before throwing my first punch. I land a good hit, but I get no relief from it. Kitty is still circling, waiting to pounce. So, I throw another punch, and another, and another. I hit the bag over and over, yet I get no relief.

I let out a frustrated growl and turn a murderous glare toward Garrett.

“Hey, big guy. It’s not working. It’s making me worse.”

Garrett stops mid-punch, turning to glare back at me.

“What’s that glare for? I can’t help it if I find punching things incredibly hot. This has had the opposite effect on me.” I’m about five seconds away from leaping on him and climbing the big guy like a tree. Fuck, why does that sound so hot?

“You’re not trying hard enough.” He hisses, so I throw my gloved hands up in the air.

“Dude, if I try any harder, I’m going to end up grinding myself against the bag until I come. Is that what you want?”

“Fucking hell.” Garrett hisses under his breath, turning away from me right as the bell goes, indicating the end of recess.

I try to tug my gloves off without success, which just makes me more frustrated, but a moment later, Garrett’s large feet come into view, and I forget what I was frustrated about. Reaching down, he helps me out of the gloves with a jerking tug, his icy blue eyes flicking to mine.

“I don’t suppose you could lend me your fingers for a couple of minutes?” I sound like I’m joking. Garrett knows better, though, shaking his head at me once again.

“I’m not touching you, George. You’ll have to find another way to get yourself off.”

I spin on my heel and head towards the exit, with Garrett only a few steps behind me.

“Fine. I will.”

Once I pass through the exit, I storm towards the toilets on a mission to calm the raging inferno bubbling under my skin. I hear Garrett call out to me. Something about being late for class, but I couldn’t care less about being tardy for Pastoral Care. I barge through the heavy door of the girl’s bathroom, happy to see that the small space is empty, with all stalls open and unoccupied.

Taking the first stall, I slam it shut, flicking the lock before slamming my hand between my legs. I can’t hold back my moan as I rub friction over the barrier of my clothing, igniting a delicious ache that needs more and more. When the squeak of the heavy bathroom entry door swings open, I ignore it and whoever may be entering. I don’t give a fuck if they hear me find my release. If they don’t like it, then they can go pee somewhere else.

“You’re going to be late, George.” Garrett’s deep voice comes from the direction of the bathroom doorway, and it sends a shiver up my spine from just hearing his deep rumble.

Applying a faster pace to my rubbing, I grind my Kitty over and over. “Unless you’re going to join me in here, Cole, you should probably leave.” My voice is breathy as I speak, feeling a knowing heat creep slowly over my skin.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Garrett grumbles, and I tip my head back against the stall wall, loving the aggressive tone of his voice.

“Why?”

“Because you have a class with Hastings now, and I need to know you won’t try to coerce him away again.”

Well, damn. He really does know me. And much better than I thought because I already sussed out if the photo lab is free for period three in case I needed to use it. Alternatively, I could take Simon to the toilets. It’s a bit more restrictive, but I’m resourceful.

“If you don’t leave, you’re going to hear me come. Is that what you want?”

“What I want is to know you’ve done the deed, so we can hurry up and get to class.” Garrett hisses, but it lacks the frustration his voice held before. I could be wrong, but it almost sounds as if he’s excited to hear me come.

“Help me then, or I’m going to need more time. It’s not the same when I do it to myself.”

When Garrett doesn’t respond, I worry he’s bailed, but then his voice comes from just on the other side of the stall door. He’s right there.

“What are you doing to yourself right now?”

Kitty purrs.

“I’m rubbing myself.”

“Over your clothes?” He asks, and I moan at the gravel laced in his tone.

“Yes.” I pant.

“Slide your hand into your panties.” He orders with that dominating tone, and fuck me, I feel myself gush.

“Ok.” With eager movements, I tug out my school shirt and slide my hand down the front of my skirt and into my soaking knickers. When my fingers brush over my aching bundle of nerves, I release another moan, and I hear Garrett’s sharp intake of air on the other side of the door. “I’m so wet.”

“Shit.” I hear Garrett whisper, and I grin. Fucking A, I grin. He may not want to touch me, but he’s involved in this with me right now, and that’s close enough to what I need. Garrett clears his throat. “Does it feel good?”

“Oh, yeah. It feels fucking amazing.” I moan again, not needing to fake it because it does feel amazing.

“Are you rubbing your clit?” He asks, and I nod, even though he can’t see me.

“Yes.”

“Slide three fingers into your pussy.” He demands, and my Kitty pulses, nearly ready to explode.

Doing as I’m told, I widen my stance, ease my fingers through my folds, and push them inside myself, loving the stretch. I’m moaning like a wanton whore now, and I hear Garrett quietly curse again.

“Use your thumb on your clit.”

Fuck, his voice is sexy as hell. I do as he says, and it’s all I need. With my fingers curling and my thumb flicking, my pleasure builds quickly with ecstasy, slamming into me in a crash of waves. I take a few seconds to revel in the feeling before returning to reality.

I’m desperate to share this moment with Garrett, but I’m scared he’s about to flee, so I use my free hand to quickly unlock the stall door, pushing it open abruptly. With my right hand still down the front of my skirt, delved into my heat, I stare at Garrett, expecting him to shy away or bolt. He doesn’t. His hands are braced on either side of the door, and those icy blue eyes of his burn with desire as he takes in my state, glancing past the brown curls that partially block his view. Then, as he watches, I slowly drag my hand out, lifting it between us to show my glistening fingers.

“You wanna taste?” I quirk my brow, hoping like hell that he’ll say yes, but he keeps his mouth shut, only giving his head a slight shake. I shrug. “More for me then.” His eyes widen as I part my black lips and sink my three wet fingers deep into my mouth, closing over them and sucking them clean.

Garrett’s nostrils flare as he watches my every move, and once I’ve thoroughly licked each finger clean, he pushes back from the stall.

“Tuck yourself in, and let’s go. We’re late for class.”