BREAK YOU: Boys Of Trinity Hall Book 1 Read online

  BREAK YOU

  Boys Of Trinity Hall Book 1

  MV Ellis

  Break You

  Published by MV Ellis

  Digital Edition

  Copyright

  Break You © 2019 By MV Ellis

  First published October 2019

  ISBN: 978-0-6487135-0-0

  All rights reserved. ©

  This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold, or given away. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader.

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favourite retailer, and purchase your own copy

  No part of this ebook may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law.

  Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Disclaimer

  Break You is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The author acknowledges all song titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses and brands mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners. MV Ellis is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians, artists or other entities mentioned in this book.

  “The days that break you are the days that make you.”

  Unknown

  Dedication

  For everyone who’s ever been broken, and put themselves back together again.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Xavier

  2. Rocky

  3. Xavier

  4. Rocky

  5. Xavier

  6. Rocky

  7. Xavier

  8. Rocky

  9. Xavier

  10. Rocky

  11. Rocky

  12. Xavier

  13. Rocky

  14. Rocky

  15. Xavier

  16. Rocky

  17. Xavier

  18. Rocky

  19. Xavier

  20. Rocky

  21. Xavier

  22. Rocky

  23. Xavier

  24. Rocky

  25. Xavier

  26. Rocky

  27. Xavier

  28. Rocky

  29. Xavier

  30. Rocky

  31. Xavier

  32. Rocky

  33. Xavier

  34. Rocky

  35. Xavier

  36. Rocky

  37. Xavier

  38. Rocky

  39. Xavier

  40. Rocky

  41. Xavier

  42. Rocky

  Epilogue

  Break You Playlist

  Fake You - Boys of Trinity Hall Book 2

  Also by MV Ellis

  Thank You

  About MV Ellis

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Xavier

  Two years earlier

  As I picked my way through the derelict old movie theater, I knew I was making a mistake. There had been something off with Pixie’s message summoning me there, though I hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what, but now as I tiptoed through the ruins, I was certain something bad was about to happen.

  My suspicions were quickly confirmed when I reached the allotted meeting point—by the concession stand—and a hooded figure emerged from the shadows. As it came nearer, I got a better view. It was shrouded in a hood and wearing a sinister-looking ‘Anonymous’ mask, like the ones activists sometimes wore. Without a word, the figure raised its hand and delivered a swift, sharp right hook to my cheek.

  Searing pain tore through my body, and a loud crack ricocheted through the deserted space. He’d broken my nose or cheekbone, for sure. The blood gushing from me like a fountain suggested my nose, but the next blows rained down before I could reach up to survey the damage, to be able to tell for sure.

  Although I’d been blindsided, and was in excruciating agony, there was no way I was going down without a fight. The hooded, masked figure had the advantage of catching me off guard, and being at least half a foot taller and broader than me. But I was young, fit, and fierce as fuck. I gave it everything I had and managed to connect a few decent blows. I definitely had nothing to be ashamed of in that respect, though my response obviously wasn’t a smart move when it came to pissing off Anonymous. He fought back with a vengeance.

  I wasn’t sure how long it went on for, but after breaking a few of my ribs to go with the smashed nose, the end of our clash came with an expertly delivered headbutt that saw me hitting the deck like a sack of shit. My whole body hurt, but that was nothing compared to the agonizing pain that was cracking my head apart like Humpty Dumpty’s. If I’d been a cartoon character, I would have been seeing stars and tweeting birds spinning around my head in a dizzying halo.

  Being made of real-life flesh and blood, I slumped groggily among the rubble and shit—animal and human—trying to work out if I was going to live or die. I’d almost forgotten about my attacker, until I felt something small and light land in my lap.

  “First and last warning.”

  I looked down to see a small wooden square like an old school Scrabble tile, embossed with the letter P in old-fashioned typewriter font. Pixie’s calling card—not that I needed telling. As much of an asshole as I was, he was the only person I could think of with a vested interest in breaking my face and several other body parts besides.

  I struggled with aching limbs to stuff the square of wood into the change slot of my jeans, then painfully dragged my phone out of my back pocket. Everything ached—seemingly even bones that hadn’t been affected by the onslaught. I fought to see through the river of blood that was sprayed in, and caked around my eyes, and called the only person I could trust to come to my aid—Octavia Douglas. My dad wouldn’t bother to pick up my call—he’d be too busy getting his dick wet somewhere—and our domestic staff would try to contact him for instructions before taking any action to help me, which would result in the same thing. Nothing.

  It was a sad day when someone on your father’s legal team was the only thing standing between survival and dying alone in the shell of what was once a beautiful picture house. The call connected, and when Octavia, aka LILF—Lawyer I’d Like to Fuck—picked up, all I could manage were a few garbled, blood-muffled words before I blacked out. I had no idea whether I would actually make it to ever piss her, or anyone, off again.

  One thing I did know, even as I lost my grip on consciousness was that if I survived, I was going to get my revenge. I didn’t care if it took me a week, a year, or an entire fucking lifetime, I’d make Pixie pay.

  Xavier

  Cherie Moore was like fine wine. She got better with age, and her cork had been popped many, many times. I’d first sampled her vintage way back in ninth grade, and had dipped in and out for a sip whenever the mood took us ever since.

  I looked down at her bare ass—exposed as her dress was hitched around her waist, and her pearl G-string was pushed to one side while I slammed into her in the staff bathroom at the Trinity Hall O-Week gala dinner—and thought about the things I had to do
that didn’t involve banging my date.

  Speaking of banging, I’d been trying to ignore the hammering on the door, but it was becoming louder and more insistent. And even for someone with my ability to focus on nothing but myself, it was fucking hard to ignore. More so when it was accompanied by a whiny-ass voice that was like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Hey, cut it out. I need to fucking pee. Actually, while we’re on the subject of fucking—dude, she’s faking, just so you know. So why don’t you hurry it along, and do what you have to do? Or better still, call it a day right now, and put us both out of our misery. Life’s too short for mediocre bathroom sex. Handy hint: get a fucking room and do it properly, like with foreplay and everything, so she doesn’t have to pretend she’s having a good time.”

  More rhythmic thumping.

  I was fuming. The fact was, it was true. Cherie’s moans of ecstasy sounded as fake as all hell, and I was barely enjoying myself enough to even bother finishing. I had so much other shit on my mind, I could just as easily have skipped it. Still, I wasn’t one to back down in the face of dissent, especially now that the dissent was getting angrier and funnier as time ticked by.

  “Come on, Pencil Dick, we all have work to do. If you wanna piss this job up the wall for a mediocre screw with a faked finale, then that’s on you, but I need the cash too much to lose this gig. Also, if you make me pee my pants, I will hunt you down and string you up by your tiny little ballsack, then I will end you.”

  It took me a few moments to realize that Angry of Brooklyn had jumped to the mistaken conclusion that the people testing her bladder were fellow members of staff. Oh, I was going to have some fun with this.

  But first I did need to wrap things up with Cherie before I died of boredom, or her subpar acting skills were tested any further. I ran my go-to porn scene in my mind, guaranteed to get me from zero to sixty in half as many seconds, and felt the familiar sensation as my release built in my balls. It wasn’t exactly going to be the orgasm to end all orgasms, but it would take the edge off the tedium of the event, and even me out for dealing with the Cygnus business we had to take care of tonight.

  “I’m coming.” I was only telling her so that she could gear up for her final performance. Truth was, I didn’t much care if she got there or not. When she’d followed me out into the hall after I’d specifically asked her to wait for me in the ballroom while I went to do my thing, I’d read the lust in her eyes and decided to put us both out of our misery in the hopes that she’d leave me to do what I needed to do the rest of the night. I had been somewhat horny, so the exercise served more than one purpose.

  I’d caught her by the arm and tugged farther down the hall, following it as it curved around the back to the building. Ignoring the clearly printed STAFF ONLY sign, I’d pushed through the double doors that led to the service area, then into the staff bathroom. I could have gone upstairs with her, but knowing I’d be conducting Cygnus Dei business up there a little later made me think twice. Cherie was nothing if not exceedingly nosey and annoyingly blabber-mouthed—not a good combination at the best of times, let alone when club business was involved.

  Added to that, not only did I not want her to know that I had an access all areas run of the place—which would have been a dead giveaway of my status—nor did I want to have to try to convince her to leave once we were done, and she was reclining comfortably in a lushly made-up bed. Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am was the best plan. As crazy as Cherie could be sometimes, even she wasn’t going to want to hang out in a bathroom for longer than she had to.

  As the thudding outside built to a crescendo, along with my orgasm, I wondered why none of the event staff we’d passed in the bustling back of house area had stopped to see what the commotion was about. Although if the shouting and chaos in the kitchen were anything to go by, everybody was too busy trying to nail the haute cuisine for the night of nights in the Trinity Hall calendar to worry about what was happening in the corridor.

  I grabbed Cherie’s butt harder, watching her lily-white skin blanch where my fingertips pressed against her firm flesh. One last hard thrust into her and I exploded, grunting my release through gritted teeth.

  The last aftershocks had barely flowed through my body before I was peeling off the condom and flinging it in the trash. Tucking myself back into my trunks, I pulled up the zipper of my tux pants and started toward the door.

  “Hey wait!”

  I’d almost forgotten Cherie was even there. My mind had already raced ahead to the rest of the evening’s proceedings. Cold and clinical though it was, she knew not to expect hearts and flowers from me—that wasn’t what we were about. In fact, there was no “we” even, and that was how both of us liked it. Life was too short, and we were too young and way too gorgeous to be tied to fucking just one person.

  By the time I’d registered what she was saying, it was too late. I’d already angrily wrenched the door open.

  “What in the name of fucks is your goddamned problem?” Surprise flared in the door-banger’s eyes as she realized that the person she’d been yelling profanities at wasn’t another member of staff, but a guest. Rather than contrition, the surprise was quickly replaced by defiance. She pulled her shoulders back and seemed to grow several inches taller before levelling me with a steady and determined gaze.

  “I need to use the bathroom. So, if you’ll excuse me...” She motioned behind me with her chin, then without asking or telling, walked into the room, much to the horror of Cherie, who was still pulling down her dress and straightening her sleek auburn hair. I guessed she’d been planning on reapplying her lipstick too, as it had now smudged onto her porcelain skin.

  I personally loved the contrast of blood red against bone white, but I understood why she probably wouldn’t want to re-enter the ballroom looking like Coco the Clown. She might have been less than fastidious when it came to choosing fuckbuddies, but she was nothing if not meticulous in her personal presentation—she liked to be immaculate at all times.

  Cherie pushed past the two of us—the door knocker and me—as she huffed haughtily out of the room. I’d have gone after her if I gave even half a fuck about placating her, but I didn’t. I listened to the melodious clip clop of her red-soled heels as it faded into the distance, all the while looking over my shoulder at the girl who’d interrupted us.

  “This is the part where you leave, unless you’re planning on watching me pee. Which isn’t an invitation, by the way. Get out.” It might not have been an invitation, but the words, and the image they conjured up were enough to get my dick twitching, and my boner back with a vengeance. I was harder at the thought of watching a random angry chick pee than I had been the entire time I was screwing Cherie. The realization had my feet rooted to the ground, and my eyes fixed on Angry Girl.

  While I contemplated that weird concept, she took the initiative.

  “Okay, well, it was ‘nice’ meeting you. Ballroom’s that way.” She motioned with her chin again. “See ya.” She placed her hand on my shoulder and shoved lightly—not enough to get her arrested for assault, but enough to put me on the other side of the threshold.

  I looked up just in time to see the deep-oak door close squarely in my face, with a small click of the lock.

  Well, damn.

  Rocky

  Holy shit! What the actual fuck even was any of that?

  I practically leapt across the room tearing my pants down as I went. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told the douche that I was about to pee myself, though of course at the time I’d thought I was speaking to another member of staff—one who clearly didn’t need the job as much as I did. I’d almost died when the door opened and it was an asshole guest, complete with tux that was probably worth more than the apartment I lived in. Definitely more than my car, Foxy Brown.

  Damned if I was going to let him know I was worried, though. If there was one thing I’d learned early on in life, it was that showing fear, even when you felt it down to your bones, was a sure-fire way to e
nd up dead. That level of risk didn’t apply in this scenario, but it was generally a principle I lived by regardless.

  I was pissed that because I’d thought it was someone in a similar position as me, I’d revealed my hand, telling him how much I needed the greens. I was kicking myself because I shouldn’t have said anything under any circumstances. I liked to keep my business exactly that—mine.

  Even worse that I’d unwittingly given some entitled douche nugget—someone who could definitely get me fired on the spot—way more personal information than I wanted anyone to have. Knowledge was power, and I never liked to give anyone any kind of power over me. Shit. My brain must have been addled by the imminent threat of soiling myself while someone used the sole staff bathroom to get their rocks off.

  Not much I could do about it after the fact, though, which was why I’d kept up with the hostility once we were face-to-face. By that point I’d already committed to a certain level of rudeness before I’d seen who I was talking to, and there was no retracting the things I’d already said, short of groveling like a pathetic little servant girl.