Page 19 of Satan's Spawn

In a school like Riverside, girl code tends to be a lot more…flexible…than guy code.

Especially when it comes to Saint, Levi, Riggs, and yours truly. Our bloodlines founded the school, and even though our father’s handed over the reins, it doesn’t make them any less dominant. That, along with all the money and politics put into Riverside, we’re deemed untouchable. Each of our fathers and their father’s and so on graduated from Riverside and went off to an Ivy League college of their choosing.

Most of their faces are in frames aligning the old walls of the building, along with a couple of celebrities and presidents.

Which is exactly what girls like Alexis are thinking when they see guys like us: the life they can get out of it.

Also why most of the guys here are only focused on getting what they want, too: their dicks nice and wet.

Alexis saunters over to me again, breasts straining against her white blouse, creating the perfect amount of round cleavage spilling over where it’s purposely unbuttoned.

“Was just wondering if you wanted to talk about it.” She shrugs, eyes on me as she slides the lock closed on the stall. Hanging her bag up on the hook, Alexis licks her lips as I peruse her long tanned legs.

The last thing I want to do is talk.

Think.

Especially as Alexis turns and lifts her plaid skirt up for me, revealing toned thighs and red booty shorts that lick the curves of her round ass. Even more so as she lowers said red booty shorts and bends over the sink attached to the wall, looking back at me with batted lashes.

My mother’s presence is still lingering like a dark cloud as I advance on Alexis, but I don’t let it stop me.

“Is this how you want me, baby?” she grins suggestively as I reach her. “Or do you prefer me on my knees?”

As if I ever allowed her, or any chick’s mouth near my cock.

Pulling a condom out of the back pocket of my pants, I unbutton the top and immediately shove them down to my ankles. Ripping open the wrapper, I slide the rubber along my shaft, then lubricate it with some spit since I’m not about to have the condom rip. Giving no warning before driving inside her, I fuck Alexis mercilessly until all that’s left to see is my rage expelling around the two of us.

All that’s left to feel is the tight walls of her cunt.

All that’s left to think about is all the ways I never want my mind to go back to that fucked up life I lived before this.

5

BEX

After about twenty minutes of the most rehearsed speech made by headmaster Beaumont—a concerningly old man who doesn’t believe in tailoring a suit—a young, animated student with a bright smile steps up to the plate like this is some sort of presidential campaign.

“Welcome to Riverside Prep, new faces, my name is Archer, grandson of headmaster Beaumont and a junior here. I will be taking you around for this morning's tour of this magnificent institution and showing you where you’ll be living for the next few years.”

Should I be concerned with how much thisArcherlooks like Archie fromRiverdale? With the blazer, tie, and bright russet hair? All that’s missing is Jughead Jones trying to solve the latest murder of a new California student.

Mom rubs my shoulders, and I give her a look, telling her to can it with the PDA because it seems to me the girls in Manhattan may be even nastier than the ones in California.

“How I like to do things, is an orderly fashion,” Archer continues, “so I will be asking each of the new students to pick a partner and leave the questions for the end of each stop. Parentsslashguardians? Give ’em some space will ya?” He waves his hands as a signal for the parents to do just that, and all the new enrollees, which is around ten of us, start to scatter to find their perfect match.

Mom takes a step back, doing as Archer says, but just as I expected not a single person is attempting to declare me their orientation partner.

Until my eyes catch on to a girl about my height, pitch black shoulder length hair with blunt bangs and voluptuous curves I could only dream of having, looking bored as she blows a bubble with her gum. She’s wearing a similar outfit to mine, except the opposite, where her tank is a dark plum and skinny jeans are shredded at the knees. Also, she’s sporting Chuck Taylors instead of flip flops.

Which Imaybe able to get on board with if I have to.

Her gaze shoots to mine, a silent understanding between us before we make our way awkwardly toward each other.

“Fuckin’ hate starting a new school.” The girl mumbles just as she parks next to my side.

“Same here.” I mumble back. “Names Rebecca, Bex for short.”

“Just Hendrix,” she returns.