Brutal Bully (Bad Bullies Book One): A Dark High School Bully Romance Read online

  I wanted to leave marks even more marks on her pale body, on those glorious curves of her.

  My eyes flash open, and I stare reluctantly at my cock where I have it in a fist.

  What the fuck is this girl doing to me?

  I stroke myself once, with every intention of shoving my dick back into my pants.

  But once is never enough, is it?

  My arm trembles as I try to hold back, but then I remember how Indi threw back her head and moaned as she came, absolutely gorgeous as she fell apart.

  I groan, and let the torrent of lust that’s been building since I first saw her slender foot tapping on the side of the bath wash over me.

  I stroke my cock slow and hard, urging precum from the crown so I can use it for lube.

  How fucking long has it been?

  I don’t allow myself this pleasure, not after what happened with Jess. The more I feed this wretched beast, the hungrier it gets. The stronger it gets. And the less likely it becomes that I’ll be able to keep it chained up.

  The forest swallows my next groan as I speed up my rhythm.

  Indi’s mouth.

  My fuck, what I wouldn’t do to have it over my cock right now. Sucking. Her tongue sliding along my shaft. Those fierce green eyes glaring up at me.

  She’d try to bite me.

  But what if…

  I’m getting close now, my back arching away from the tree.

  What if she didn’t have a choice?

  She’d have to swallow every drop of my cum, and tell me that she loves how it tastes. That she wants more.

  Fuck.

  I come with a deep-throated growl.

  In my mind, Indi’s mouth opens wide, and I empty myself on her tongue while her eyes glitter with hateful tears.

  * * *

  I sprint home, dodging trees and brambles best I can. If the ground hadn’t been this cold, it wouldn’t have numbed my soles to the point where I could run.

  I left my shoes behind. But I can’t go back. Not now. They’d be on high alert. Hopefully, no one will look behind the shrub where I left them. If they do, then I’m pretty fucked.

  I keep pushing, pushing, pushing.

  The euphoria’s long gone. And although I try to outrun the rest, it follows me as doggedly as my fucking shadow.

  First comes the shame. It burns through me in an incandescent wave.

  Next; guilt. Heavy, leaden, it drags down my feet and makes my body ten times heavier than it should be. My sprint becomes a slow jog.

  Lastly, always…anger.

  It eviscerates my reservations, logic.

  Every fucking thing.

  All I want — need — is to break her…even if I can’t put her back together again. Then that beautiful, broken girl will be all mine.

  I like broken things, but I love breaking them even more.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Indi

  I eventually do find remnants of an earlier, happier time in Marigold’s house. For reasons I can’t quite explain to myself yet, I don’t tell her about the intruder. Instead, I claim I saw a spider terrifying enough to make me run wet and partially naked from the bathroom.

  She went to bed still wearing a grimace. That had been for the almost empty bottle of wine she spotted in the kitchen though, not my tale of arachnophobic horror.

  Briar’s blue eyes kept me awake for an hour before I abandoned the concept of sleep altogether.

  Intent on getting some warm milk, I head down to the kitchen. I walk past a hallway that heads to the back of the house, one Marigold never bothered to include in her initial tour. I always thought the room went to a study or a smaller sitting room, perhaps, so I never even bothered investigating.

  The door’s locked. But there’s a hallway closet nearby I hadn’t seen before. I open the closet and rummage through the shelves.

  I find a few photo albums and some dilapidated sporting equipment — a baseball bat and mitts, faded roller skates, a scratched bicycle helmet.

  Weighing the bat in my hand, I purse my lips at its solidity. Then I grasp it tight and take a swing at an invisible enemy.

  Not a bad self-defense weapon. Good to keep close at hand, should a certain Prince decide to sneak into my fucking house again. Fuck knows if I’d even use it. I should at least pretend that the fact that he’s not just a rapist and a murderer, but a creeping tom to boot, scares the living shit out of me.

  Because it really should.

  Somehow though, it doesn’t.

  I guess after all the shit life’s dealt me recently, a run-in with a young Ted Bundy seems tame in comparison.

  * * *

  Briar

  Marcus’s SUV is still out front when I finally get home. Inside, the mansion is quiet as the grave.

  I find him in the pool house, immersing himself in weed and video games. He doesn’t even hear me come in — with such a dank haze in the room it doesn’t surprise me at all.

  There’s beer inside the fridge — I take out two cans and bring them over to the sofa.

  Marcus twitches when I move into his peripheral view, and then pauses his game and settles back on the sofa as if getting ready for battle.

  I hold out the can until he takes it, and then I lower myself onto the seat with a sigh.

  Marcus scans me with black, unreadable eyes, pops open his can, and says, “The fuck happened to your shoes?”

  I laugh and wave away the question. Taking a sip of beer, I sit forward and grab a joint roach from the ashtray. I’m still hunting for a lighter when Marcus holds out a hand and flicks on his Zippo.

  “Look, man, about earlier…” I trail off, expecting him to stop me, but he just watches with dead eyes and a line for a mouth.

  “Yeah?” he prompts after a few seconds.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “Told you, that girl’s got you fucking obsessed.” He narrows his eyes. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Sorry, love, I meant to call,” I say dryly. “Time just got away from me.”

  He snorts and returns to his game. “You met up with her, didn’t you?”

  I turn to him, wide-mouthed with disbelief. “The fuck, Mar—?”

  “Did you at least fuck her this time, get it out of your system?”

  I don’t know if it’s because I still have way too much alcohol in my system, but déjà vu slams into me like a glass door.

  Just fuck Jess and get her out of your system already.

  Marcus had said that right after I told him that I had feelings for her.

  When I don’t reply, he glances at me and then does a double take. Throwing down the game controller without bothering to pause this time, he says, “Tell me I’m wrong,” while cocking his head at me.

  “I’ve known her for less than a week.” It’s a shitty defense, especially since he knows I liked Jessica from the moment I saw her, but it’s all I got.

  “Well she’s obviously set off some kind of fucked-up chemical response in your brain.” Marcus grabs his dime bag of weed and starts rolling another joint, his eyes flickering up to me every other second as if to make sure I don’t launch myself at him while his attention is diverted. “That’s the only rational explanation, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not—”

  “You want the same thing to happen to Indi?”

  Now he’s staring solid at me. For a moment, I don’t know what the fuck he means. Is he talking about the rape or the murder?

  Cold fury bubbles inside me.

  “I never asked you to do anything.”

  “Yeah?” Marcus runs his tongue along the joint and then slips it through his lips in one movement. “Guess I should just have let her go to the police. Testify against you in court. You’d have done hard time, you know that, right?”

  I swallow, but it’s as if all that guilt is stuck right there in my throat. “You didn’t have to—”

  “But I did, bro, because that’s what friends do!” Marcus stands in a rush, toking hard
at the joint before stabbing it in my direction. “We look out for each other. And I’m telling you, this chick’s gonna get you in a world of fucking trouble. Think the fact she’s buddies with Addison is a coincidence? Addy’s been looking for a way back into your life for months now. She’s got that chick wrapped around her finger.”

  “Addy doesn’t have any proof.”

  “’Course she doesn’t,” Marcus says. I look up at him, and ignore the joint he’s holding out to me. “’Cos I made it all disappear, remember?”

  His head tilts to the side, eyes so dead they could have been chips of coal.

  Is he seriously expecting me to thank him? I’d been in such a state after Jess left Marcus’s house that afternoon, when he came and told me that she’d jumped off the bridge at Angel Falls, I’d broken down like a fucking baby.

  For three months, I’d been hanging out with Marcus, going to school with him, letting him stay over at my house when his dad was in town.

  Three months before I found out the truth about Jessica’s death.

  Just goes to show how deviant I am. When he did tell me, instead of beating him up and dragging him to the police station, I said nothing.

  I’ve never said anything to anyone.

  Because that’s what friends do.

  I won’t thank him. What he did was wrong. Just like what I did was fucking inexcusable. But we keep each other’s secrets like best friends should.

  It doesn’t explain why I keep thinking he wants to screw me over.

  “You’re right,” I say, nodding slowly. Marcus takes a slow drag of the joint, watching me with unveiled suspicion.

  I hold up my hand, palm facing him. “No, seriously, you are. This chick’s gotten into my head.”

  The simple truth.

  “If she stays in there much longer then no, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.”

  Marcus nods, hitting the joint again.

  “So we stick to our plan,” I say.

  “We get rid of her.”

  I don’t like the sound of that, so I add, “We’ll turn Lavish Prep into her own personal hell. She’ll be begging her parents to send her back.”

  Marcus smiles around the joint and sticks out his hand.

  I grab it, squeeze it, shake it.

  Then I take the joint from him and lift my eyebrows as my eyes slide to the game controller. “Duo?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He grabs the spare controller off the game console and brings it to me.

  I watch him as he sits, and can’t help but shake my head in reluctant admiration.

  You’d never think, looking at him, that he murdered a girl in cold blood. I guess pushing someone off a bridge isn’t as chilling as stabbing or gunning them down, but still.

  “What?” Marcus asks, and I realize I’d been staring. I look away, grab my beer, and chug at it.

  “Thinking how I’m gonna kick your ass.”

  “We’re on the same team, Briar,” Marcus says slowly. “Always will be.”

  Of course we are. I don’t know why the fuck I ever doubted him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Indi

  My footsteps echo as I enter Lavish Prep’s gymnasium. According to my timetable, this is where we have assembly on Fridays. It must be Friday already, or there’s a special assembly, because the benches are packed.

  But something’s not right. The principal’s podium is missing and it’s too quiet.

  With no teachers in sight, the kids should have been chatting and laughing and fidgeting, filling the gymnasium with a hushed cacophony that would only end once the principal called the assembly to order.

  But no teachers.

  No noise.

  Just thousands of blank, expectant faces.

  I’m nervous enough to be sweating, but at the same time I’m detached from my body. Like I’m floating, tethered to myself by a very short string as I lumber over the empty floor.

  Everyone’s looking at me, and it’s no wonder. The only thing making any noise right now are my shoes.

  Clomp. Squeak. Clomp. Squeak. Clomp.

  Someone’s behind me. I can feel their presence. But I can’t turn; I’m too scared it’s Briar.

  As if the crowd read my mind, they begin to chant.

  Briar.

  Briar.

  Briar.

  Shoes thump on wood. Hands clap.

  Briar!

  Briar!

  Briar!

  Why wouldn’t they cheer for him? They let him walk loose among them as if he’s nothing close to the wild predator Addy suspects him of being. An animal I know him to be.

  My skin feels a size too small.

  I try walking faster, but my disengaged body just keeps plodding along at the same pace.

  When I try to look behind me, my eyes remain fixed forward.

  Briar! Briar! Briar!

  Addy’s standing at the foot of the benches wearing a pink, glittering cheerleader’s outfit that doesn’t look anything like Lavish Prep’s gold and black uniform.

  A pair of pink pom-poms dangles at her side as if she’s lost every bit of enthusiasm.

  I stop in the center of the gym.

  Breath stirs fine hairs against my neck.

  Shit, he’s so fucking close.

  Briar! Briar! Briar!

  I want to close my eyes, but they stay wide open. I have no choice but to stare at Addy as she stares back at me.

  No, not me.

  She’s looking past me.

  Briar! Briar! Briar!

  Why am I stuck? Why can’t I move? I don’t want to stand here in the middle, not with Briar this close. What if he pulls up my skirt or shoves me to the floor?

  My insides grow tighter and tighter.

  Briar! Briar! Briar!

  Hands slide around my stomach, draw me back. A hand closes around my throat, firm but not too tight.

  My core clenches as tingles start spreading through me.

  Addy starts to dance. Her pom-poms dazzle, despite how reluctantly she thrusts them into the air. Her lips move, but her chanting comes from everywhere at once, like she’s wired to a mic.

  Who’s number one? He only wants some fun.

  Lips touch the side of my neck. My body aches in response, and I melt against the hard body behind me.

  Who’s perfect too? He’s right behind you.

  Addy twirls around and does a perfect backflip. When she straightens, there’s a pained smile stretching her glossy lips.

  The hand around my throat squeezes, while the other trails down my belly, heading for my navel. I shudder, my core clenching tight in pained anticipation as those fingers creep closer and closer.

  Who’s wild and free? Not you. Not me.

  Addy spins around, shoves her pom-poms in my face, and then flips away from me again. Her brown eyes are slitted now, her teeth bared in rage.

  Air rattles in my throat as the hand squeezes even tighter. But before I can protest, fingers scrape over my pussy.

  I’m stark fucking naked but I remember the sound my shoes made just moments ago. What happened to them?

  Shame battles lust which battles utter, desperate confusion. Addy’s grin turns ferocious, and she bites at her bottom lip as if trying to be coquettish without really wanting to be.

  Blood pools and trickles down her chin.

  Give me a B!

  Her pom-poms flash up, and she jiggles them until the glittery strands infuse the air with scattered reflections.

  Fingers delve inside me. There’s a hard cock pressing against my ass, sliding up and down. Inching closer to my pussy.

  Give me an R!

  I groan as I try to move. I have no idea if it’s to get away, or to get closer. The tip of his cock presses against my entrance.

  This is the furthest I’ve ever gone with anyone. The guy who was going to take my virginity at that party last week was too drunk to get more than a semi. But this doesn’t feel anything like that. This feels raw, and wrong, and horri
ble and I don’t know why because I know I want to fuck Briar. I know it like I know my own name. Like I know my mother’s death was my fault.

  Give me an I!

  The entire crowd screams out the vowel. My knees go soft, but the hand around my throat tightens and drags me up again.

  Give me an A!

  Something’s wrong. It’s not just the blood dripping down Addy’s chin, splashing onto her trippy cheerleading outfit. It’s not just the fact that I’m about to get fucked in front of the entire school without a say in the matter.

  Give me an R!

  R!

  My ears are ringing. I feel wet and tight and so fucking horny I could die. But there are tears running down my face. The hand around my throat tightens. Tightens.

  I gasp, struggle, but I’m pinned too tight.

  What does that spell? Addy demands.

  A double backflip has her right in front of me, teeth shining dark with blood, eyes lit with anger, frustration, betrayal.

  I groan at her, caught on the cusp of an inexplicable climax that feels like it will never reach me.

  Then her eyes flicker past me, over my shoulder.

  Hands grip me, turn me. They must be Addy’s, because that other hand — impossibly — is still around my throat. The other gripping my pussy.

  My heart stops beating when I see who was standing behind me. Eyes the color of a basement at midnight consume me.

  Marcus smiles, slides a finger deep inside me, and whispers, “Marcus Baker, bitch.”

  * * *

  I slept much better last night with the baseball bat leaning up against my nightstand. Although, taking into account the nightmare I had, I wish I hadn’t slept at all.

  I shoot out of bed just before six, my heart pounding and holding mom’s necklace in a fist. I’ve taken to sleeping with it. That way, I can almost pretend she’s beside me, her smell encompassing me as I drift off to sleep.

  A hard rap to my bedroom door makes me yell out, and I barely manage to drag my sheets over my body before my gran is inside my room. “I heard noises,” she says, her nose twitching.