Sins And Chastity

Together

JETHRO

Late again.

They're always f*****g late.

I’m leaning over the pool table, racking up the balls and waiting for the guys to arrive. King comes clomping up the stairs two at a time first, peeking his head through the opening of the railing. He’s still dressed in the same old light faded jeans and green t-shirt he wore when we shot hoops earlier in the day. “Looking to get your ass kicked again there, Jet?” He pegs me at the pool table, a boastful smirk lifting his lips.

I shake my head. Sure, he won last time, but I’m not about to let that happen again.

“Why did you arrange this last-minute meeting anyway?” His brow pops as he makes a beeline for the refrigerator nestled within the bar. A second later, I hear him pop open a can of beer.

“All will be revealed in due time.” I shrug mysteriously.

Spencer is the next one of our group to arrive after a loud commotion from downstairs, obnoxiously bounding up the steps like he’s being pursued, a large hand gripping the railing as he leaps over the final one.

He is being pursued. Damon is right there behind him, hot on his tail.

“Dude, I said that I’d pay for it!” Spencer jumps over the back of the leather sofa in an attempt to flee from him, nearly stumbling into Kingston who’s sitting at the high table on the other side, scrolling on his phone and drinking his beer.

“Come on!” He shouts, moving out of the way at the last second.

It’s only now that I realize that Damon’s choppy and sleek jet-black hair is mussed up like he’d run his fingers through it aggressively, his green eyes alight with rage, mimicking the usual fury that lives inside Kingston’s chocolatey brown ones.

King is Wrath, after all.

Damon’s fists are clenched, the muscles in his face pulled tight.

Uh oh.

Spencer did something.

He’d done f****d something up.

“What the f**k is going on here?” I spin around, arms folded over my chest, leaning back against the pool table. “What is happening right now and why is it happening?”

Damon’s eyes glow emerald green now as he drops his head to glare at Spencer like some kind of beast, grinding his jaw. “This motherfucker just dented my brand new f*****g Mustang outside,” Damon says through his fury.

Damn. I get the anger now. Damon had just received that grey car as an early graduation present and as an award for being on the High Honor Roll for the entire year—for the first time. I’d be pissed too. Hell, I’d probably pummel the s**t out of Spencer, too, if I were him. The dude’s got it coming.

“I said I would pay for it!” Spencer replies, coming out from behind the bar area in surrender. “I’ll even let you hit me if it will make you feel better.”

“Hitting you would make me feel better,” Kingston interjects in true Kingston fashion.

“Nah, I’m wrath this second, King,” Damon shakes his head, taking a step towards Spencer who stands up taller and raises his head to meet his glaring anger. He knows there’s no reason to put off the inevitable.

“I said you get one.” He turns to present his shoulder.

Damon wastes no time before clenching a fist and sending a bruising blow to Spencer’s upper arm. But Spencer doesn’t even flinch or express pain because we’re all football players and it’s not like Damon is dishing out anything Spencer can’t handle or hasn’t handled before. Spencer’s a Wide receiver, and he’s used to getting hits on the field. Tougher hits than that one... even if he may be a little out of practice. Two months worth.

Feeling pleased with himself after Spencer rubs the spot to dull the ache, Damon walks over to get himself a beer. King clasps him on the back, chuckling, “See? Hitting people is the best.”

“Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what’s so important that couldn’t wait until school in the morning?” Damon asks, taking a swig of his beer.

I don’t divulge... yet. Instead, I walk to the wall and take down four pool cues. “First, we play,” I say, offering one to Kingston first, then Damon, and finally Spencer.

“You have me intrigued.” Damon shrugs as he too walks over to the pool table and sets his beer down on the glossy wooden rim. “I call dibs on King.”

Kingston strolls over to stand beside him, leaning over to bump his knuckles to his and they both laugh like the morons they are.

“That’s fine.” I shrug, taking my place and setting my cue down so that I can slide the triangle against the table to roll the balls within it. “But I’m breaking.”

Once I’m satisfied with what I see, I remove the triangle and pick my cue stick back up, carefully lining the tip up with the white cue ball before pulling back to hit it. The cue ball smashes into the balls and breaks formation, sending striped and colored balls off in every direction, ricocheting off from the sides of the table before one lonely red ball falls into the right center pocket.

“We’re solids,” Spencer announces, giving me a high five as I set up my next shot.

Kingston and Damon step out of the way as I walk around the table, eyeing the purple “4” ball only a few inches away from the left corner pocket. The angle of the cue ball to the intended one doesn’t give me much hope as there are three striped balls in front of it, but I bend over and line up my shot anyway. Goddamnit. The cue ball cracks into a yellow striped one but that’s where the play dies, setting up the perfect opportunity for Damon to sink the blue “2” ball.

He takes a long, dramatic swig of his beer before he’s on the move, hovering over the table, cue stick sliding between the bridge he’s made with his hand as he stares down his shot. Within seconds, the cue ball goes speeding into the blue “2” ball and drops right into the pocket with an unsatisfying (for me) clunk.

“That was an easy one,” Spencer jests. “Jet pretty much gave you that one.”

He’s right. I did. But not on purpose.

Damon, the charmer he is just smiles wide and winks, stalking around to find the best spot for his follow-up shot. He is every bit of the sin he’s named after. From his shaggy black hair down to his piercing green gaze and carefree swagger, the f*****g guy walks, talks, breathes, and emits Lust.

Out of all of us, he’s the most experienced. Done the freakiest s**t, too—which includes numerous double teams with King, and two threesomes where he f****d other men and was edged for two hours.

Watching his focus zero in on the table, I decide that now is as good of a time as ever to disclose why I’ve called them all here. Might as well take advantage of the shock that’s soon to follow an announcement like mine, “There’s been a development in Project Virgin.” I blurt, just as he’s about to send the tip of his cue stick into the cue ball. “A rather huge development.”

“Sonofabitch!” He yells after his focus is broken, sending the cue stick into the table instead of the ball.

A pleased grin spills across my lips after he misses, but I continue, “Skylar called me Saturday night from the party to inform me that he’d popped Jessica Tate’s cherry. It apparently happened at the same time King and Damon were busy double teaming Dina Evans—thank you for the picture, by the way, very tastful—” My voice trails as I look to King who boasts and flexes his arms like the showman he is, before continuing my sentence, “Which makes one lonely virgin of Blueridge high left.”

That gets Damon’s attention. His ears perk up like an intrigued bloodhound, “So who is it? What’s her name?” He asks impatiently.

Good question.

I’d like to know who, too.

Pulling out my cell phone, I bring up the list in my notes, swiping a finger through the names of Jessica Tate and Dina Evans to cross them off, leaving only one name remaining.

Marni Rose.

Circling the name, I pause to stare at the black font. It sounds familiar and new all at once. But something I can’t pinpoint tells me the girl has crossed my path before. I just can’t seem to remember the occasion.

“Well... we’re all on pins and needles here?” King speaks up, tearing me out of my thoughts.

“Marni Rose,” I confess. “Marni Rose is the only girl according to this list that hasn’t f****d anyone—certainly not any of us.”

“Marni Rose,” Spencer repeats like he likes how she tastes on his tongue. I have to admit, I do too. The girl has a beautiful name. It’s not generic, it’s far from basic. I wonder what she looks like. Her body type. Her measurements. Lips, ass, legs...tits. p***y.

“Why does that name sound so familiar?” Kingston’s brow bunches in concern.

So he’s not the only one feeling as though he’s known her his whole life? I mean, I guess technically we’ve all known her our whole lives because we’ve all gone to the same schools for the past twelve years, but it’s different than that. I feel like she’s always been there, in the background of every day, of every second. Hiding in plain sight. 

Just beyond my f*****g reach.

And just like that, the game is abandoned as I head over to the cabinet and begin pulling out all the yearbooks from the past, ripping them open, and searching through the underclassmen for Marni Rose. Freshman year is a dead end. Her name is there, but there isn’t a picture. Sophomore year isn’t any different. There’s a name, but no photo.

“How the f**k is she not in any of these?” I rasp, flipping through to the back of the freshman yearbook, hoping to find her hiding amongst the faces of the various clubs.

Nothing. 

Moments later, King walks over and picks up the Sophomore yearbook, opening up pages to see if he’s able to spot her in the sea of people.

“She’s got to have a f*******:. I’ll look her up.” Spencer pulls out his phone. He’s our technology mastermind, so if anyone can find her, it’s him.

“Give me that one.” Damon joins in, sitting down on the floor with us, nodding to the yearbook for Junior year. He pops open the cover and begins reading through it to aid in the search for the face belonging to the pretty name.

“How’s it going, Spence?” I ask, invested more than I’d like to be.

He answers, but not before a sigh of disappointment, “Not good. I can’t find the name Marni Rose anywhere. No one with that name seems to live in this zip code. The name hasn’t been tagged in any posts or photos either. It’s almost like the girl doesn’t exist.”

Damn. A pro hacker such as Spencer reaching a dead end is a disconcerting discovery. If he can’t find her, how will I?

“Did you check the other Marni Rose accounts, just in case—” I suggest, but he cuts me off before I can get the thought out.

“I did. The pages are surprisingly public, and the profiles I was able to find are of middle-aged women who live hundreds of miles away.”

“Maybe we’ll just have to wait to find her tomorrow at school.” King proposes.

No. I refuse to accept that. 

She’s spent four years in the school. There has to be one picture of her, somewhere. Even if it’s small. Even if it’s not labeled. Even if it’s not current.

She’s in those pages.

I know she is.

We've just got to find her.

“No!” I snap, rummaging through the yearbook in my hands faster, frustration making my blood simmer. “She’s in here somewhere goddamnit!”

“I think I found her!” Damon calls out, at last, placing the book on the floor in the center of us. “She’s right there. And what a Rose she is.” He points to an attractive brunette lounging on the grass behind the posing track team reading a book, her long legs stretched out in front of her.

And my body stiffens.

Because I do know her.

I know exactly who she is.

“There’s no name, but that’s her.” Kingston huddles around the picture, leaning closer to get a better look. “I remember her from freshman year. I knocked her over rushing to class one day. Didn’t even bother to help her back up. It’s definitely her though; I remember her friend saying her name after I bolted.”

“Oh, it’s her alright.” I confirm what he says, leaving no room for debate, feeling my gut twist, and my spine burn, “She was my lab partner for science class in freshman year.”

I’d spent five weeks paired up with her. That’s two days a week for over a month at minimum that we could’ve shared, that I could’ve broken her, made her mine...

But back then, I wasn’t ready for a girl like her. Being a Sin was still new, and I didn’t have the confidence or experience I do now. I sure as hell didn’t have any self-control either. I was just a typical horny teenager—too much testosterone, not enough discipline, thinking with the wrong head more often than not.

And Marni made me nervous.

More than that—she made me feel weak. One word from her and I’d forget my own name, forget how to speak. One accidental brush of her fingers against mine and I spilled the solution we'd been working with all over her notebook as I creamed in my goddamn pants, praying to f*****g God she hadn’t noticed.

After that, the shame hit hard. So I bailed—moved to the other tables, put as much distance between us as possible. Anything to avoid making more of a fool of myself in front of a girl who was so far out of my league it wasn't even funny.

If she thought I was an asshole, fine. I could live with that. It was better than seeing that failure staring back at me in the mirror. Or facing the others.

A Sin who couldn’t control a situation or manipulate it to his advantage? Who couldn’t get a girl on her knees?

Unheard of.

Unacceptable.

Especially for the one branded the leader.

So I shut it down. I didn’t look back. I let her carry the weight of passing us on her own while I acted like she didn’t exist.

And then I let her walk away.

But that was four years ago. And a lot can change in four years. I’ve changed. I'm not the same unsure, adolescent boy I was before. She's never met this version of me. Never faced me head-on. But she will.

Because now?

I’m ready for her.

I'm a bonafide hunter who lives for the f*****g kill.

And Marni Rose doesn’t make me nervous, nothing does anymore.

She makes my f*****g d**k hard, and this time, I'll make her kneel at my goddamn feet to worship me. I'll show her what true sin looks and feels like. Every punishment, every drop of pleasure—I'll have her begging for it all. And she'll enjoy every goddamn second of it.

Life handed me a second chance.

And I’m not about to waste it.

No way in hell.

I'm going to rock her f*****g world so hard it'll make her pretty little head spin.

"She was your lab partner?" King says. "Why didn't you ever tell us about her?"

That's easy. Because I was too embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to know that Mr. Cool and collected wasn't always that way. I sure as hell couldn't face it. I still can't. It pisses me off. No girl has ever had that power over me. Not before her, not after her. "I guess I forgot." I shrug, hiding the fact that I'm lying through my f*****g teeth. I never forgot about her. Not completely. Its impossible to.

“She’s a pretty one.” Damon swipes his thumb across her picture on the page like he’s mentally touching her. Or preparing to taste her. “So which one of us gets her?”

“I definitely wouldn’t mind double-teaming her with Damon.” Kingston claps his hands together, excitement and lust melting his chocolate eyes. “f**k, I might just have to go back a second time with this one. She’s f*****g hot.”

That she is.

Hot.

Pure.

And all ours.

I think it’s past time to do what I should have done years ago.

“Don’t leave us in suspense, Jet. Who is the lucky fucker who gets to have Marni Rose?” Spencer holds up a hand and tilts his head, awaiting the answer with bated breath.

“We all do.” I declare, a cunning smirk splitting my lips. “For the first time ever, boys, we’re going to share a virgin.”

"Don't joke about that, Jet." Damon's brow lifts with contempt. "Are you serious?"

I get his hesitation. We'd joked about sharing girls before, but I'd never wanted to act on it, or given the okay for them to do so. Until now. Until Marni Rose. "As serious as the season-ending hit King delivered to the QB of the Hellions during the homecoming game." I nod.

Sometimes, I can still hear the crunch of the poor bastard's foot as it bent the wrong way, shattering his ankle in two places when I close my eyes. Can still hear the siren of the ambulance that pulled up onto the field and loaded him up. The defeaning silence of the crowd that soon followed as fans watched the vehicle drive away, and the eruption of loud noise when play resumed. An injury like that is what every Quarterback fears, and witnessing it firsthand was gruesome as f**k. Good thing, I'm well protected on my team, so I don't have to worry too much about it. I have an impenetrable wall of muscle around me that keeps me safe from defenders. I'm also fast as f**k and I know how to read a field—and scramble free from a collapsing pocket. f*****g dumbass.

King winces before his mouth spreads into an arrogant smirk. "The fucker should have left the pocket. He saw it collapse. He knew I was coming."

"Can you imagine what he thought seeing your big ass coming straight for him?" Spencer laughs.

"He probably s**t his pants before you hit him." Damon agrees. He probably did. Good thing his pants were black to hide all possible evidence.

"Okay, okay, enough flattering me." King shakes his head and sits up and steers the conversation back to the stunning virgin at hand. "Let's get back to what Jet was saying. We get to share Marni Rose? Completely? All of her firsts?"

Fuck. Sparks race down my spine at the idea of it. Of finally putting my hands on her after all these years. "That's what I said." I confirm. "Spencer, I need you to hack into the school's system and find her schedule. I need to know which class I'm crashing first period tomorrow."

Spencer drops his head to look at his phone seconds later, his fingers tapping along the screen with purpose. "I don't need to do any hacking. I made the nerdy girl in the office give me the password to the account."

Damon chuckles. "How'd you do that?"

Spencer is silent as he reads what's on the screen, his fingers slowly scrolling. "Got it. Marni has English with Mr. Rosen first period." He announces before turning to look at Damon with a playful wink. "And I promised her a date with you, fuckboy."

Damon sneers, his body tensing to pounce. And pummel. "You f*****g better not have."

"Come on, the nerdy thing is kind of hot." Spencer shrugs, purposely pressing Damon's buttons. Damon doesn't date. None of us do. But Spencer likes to make jokes about the girls who wish we did.

"Spencer, you f**k around too much." Damon shakes him off. "Nerdy girls are your thing. Not mine."

Picking up the yearbook, Spencer taps on Marni's picture. "Well you claim not to like Goth girls either, but the hard-on in your pants right now suggests otherwise."

"I usually don't. But Marni is f*****g gorgeous. I mean, have you seen those eyes? They’re like an amber abyss just sucking you in. Calling you closer. Demanding your c**k to stand at attention." Damon's tongue glides along his bottom lip as he peers closer at the book in Spencer's hands.

My d**k twitches as I glance over at the page, confirming the allure Marni Rose already has through a photograph. A f*****g picture and my c**k is hard enough to cut through stone. My fingers shaking out an urge I haven't felt in so long. Maybe ever.

"Is there a reason why we're waiting till morning to make a move on her?" King asks outloud.

My pulse skips. He brings up a good point. But there isn't a specific reason to wait. Other than wanting to mark her as publicly as possible so the rest of the school knows who she belongs to.

"What's stopping us from going over to her house and telling her she belongs to us right now?" King continues, his voice taking on a wall of seriousness that's unusual for him.

"It's like one in the morning, so— her parents, maybe?" Damon counters. "I think they'd be pretty pissed off to be woken up in the middle of the night because four guys want their daughter."

"Yeah. And I'm not trying to get arrested." Spencer nods. Oh, we'd be arrested, for sure. But it might be worth it though to see the fear in her eyes when we place our mark upon her, when she realizes she can hide no longer, when she knows she’s finally been cursed with our attention. "Besides, we can wait one more night. One more night, and in the morning, Marni Rose becomes ours."

Fuck. He's right.

I've waited this long. I can wait one more night.

One more f*****g night, and then I'm coming for her.