Brutal Bully (Bad Bullies Book One): A Dark High School Bully Romance Page 22

  I move my hand away. I stop kissing the side of her neck.

  She’s done it again. Somehow, this little slip of a girl’s gone and made me lose control.

  I have to get out of here. Out of this classroom, away from her intoxicating aura. I have to—

  Her arm trembles, and that brings me back to the here and now.

  Warmth spills from her pussy. Her legs were a little open, and there’s still an inch of space between her thighs.

  I could leave, but then she’d have won. Because Indi fucking Virgo doesn’t seem to understand that I have all the power here. If I want to finger-fuck her in detention, then that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.

  “Open your legs,” I whisper into her ear.

  When she doesn’t move, doesn’t obey, I nip her earlobe.

  She squirms frantically, but a moment later there’s more space between her thighs.

  “More.” When she obeys instantly, I lick the side of her neck in reward and feel her shiver against my tongue. “More.”

  This time, when I run my knuckle over her clit, my skin comes back damp. My cock hardens at the thought that she’s wet for me, that she opened her legs for me, that she still hasn’t brought an end to her ordeal.

  Fuck, how I wish we weren’t in class right now.

  The things I could do to her…

  * * *

  Indi

  When Briar licks the side of my neck, every rational thought scatters. My body tightens and then relaxes, and my legs go as wide as they can.

  I don’t give a shit if anyone turns around anymore. In fact, I’m not even here anymore. I’m on planet Don’t-Give-A-Fuck, and the weather’s bea-u-tiful.

  Briar slips a finger behind my underwear, and I barely keep back a groan as he traces my entrance with his fingertips.

  I can’t believe how wet I am, and that’s just turning me on even more. As fucked-up wrong as this is, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good.

  Then again, I’ve never gotten to third base with a guy before. Somehow, my own fingers have never elicited this kind of a response from my body before.

  I’m heating up, but my flesh feels cold and prickly.

  And then Briar slides his fingers inside me.

  Deep inside me.

  I arch, grabbing his wrist and forcing those fingers in all the way up to his knuckles.

  He lets out a muted growl right by my fucking ear. “Jesus, you’re so goddamn wet.”

  I’ve got my bottom lip in a death nip. I’m so scared I’ll make a sound and get someone’s attention. No one’s paying us any mind, but fuck, all it takes is one backward glance—

  “Take off your underwear.”

  “What?” The word slips out in a rush of breath. “No!”

  For that, he sinks his teeth into the flesh on the side of my neck. I go rigid, panicking as pain flicks through me. Did he break the skin? But when he pulls away, he leaves only a dull throb in his wake.

  “Take. It. Off. Or I will.”

  I slam my legs closed, trapping his hand. He pulls it out and lets out another soft, animalistic sound which I try to ignore. I lift my hips and tug my undies down my legs as fast as I can without making a sound.

  “Give them to me.”

  I wad the damp fabric into a ball, hesitate, and pass it to him over my shoulder.

  He’s still taking it from me when his fingers wedge between my legs again. I hear him draw breath with another command, but I anticipate him and spread my legs again.

  This time, he lets out a pleased murmur against the side of my neck as he slips a finger inside me.

  “I like obedient little virgin,” he whispers to me. “You should let her out to play more often.”

  I shudder when his thumb begins massaging my clit. His finger dips in and out, setting a breathtaking pace that has my back arching from the seat a moment later.

  Lips touch the side of my neck. My jawline. I turn to him and give him my mouth as he begins strumming my clit.

  His smooth, warm lips seize my mouth, drawing a mewl from me as his tongue forces its way between my teeth.

  My entire body’s vibrating from his touch. Skin stretched tight, breath coming hot and fast. He tastes so sweet, so good, but I can barely stand my attention being divided between his fingers and his mouth.

  He abandons my mouth for a second, our air mingling.

  “Come for me, my little virgin.”

  And god, his wish is my command.

  He slaps a hand over my mouth a second before an explosive climax crashes into me. My back arches off the chair, and he moves with me, thrusting his fingers hard and fast into my pussy as he ekes out a final shudder with his thumb on my clit.

  Then his mouth is on mine, urging a soft mewl as he tastes me hard and deep. He strokes my pussy, first soft, and then harder.

  “Again,” he whispers.

  The fuck? There’s no way—

  But then he’s inside me again, beckoning me with a finger. I burn and I ache, my core constricting in anticipation.

  “Briar, please,” I mumble.

  I can’t. Not again. Not like this. Because I know I’ll make a noise, something to attract attention. And then I’ll get suspended, never mind fucking detention, and Marigold will be gloating at me as she watches me pack up my shit—

  There’s a loud clack-clack-clack from the projector less than a yard away from us.

  I slam my thighs closed and yank away Briar’s hand, smoothing down my skirt all in one go.

  I face forward with burning cheeks and flustered breath, blinking furiously to try and focus my gaze.

  Denard glances over at us, but I guess in the dark it doesn’t look like anything suspicious was going on.

  “See you tomorrow,” he says, addressing the class as a whole, before heading for the exit.

  He flicks on the light as he leaves.

  The students in front of us stand in a rush, chairs scraping back over the hardwood floor. One or two of them glance back at me, and I hastily drop my chin to my chest.

  “Stay behind,” Briar murmurs in my ear.

  Another command, but this one I refuse. I shoot to my feet, grab up my books, and rush for the exit. I knock into a few students on my way out, but I don’t bother looking back.

  Halfway down to the second floor of Lavish Prep, I remember I’m not wearing any underwear.

  Grabbing the hem of my skirt, I keep it flattened against my leg as I do my best to run down the stairs.

  I barely make it to my car in time before tears flash, hot and torrid, down my face.

  Clapping both hands over my eyes, I cry myself out, fervently hoping that no one’s bothered enough to look my way.

  When I’m all petered out, I push hair out of my face, drag a hand over my nose, and let out a harsh breath.

  Fuck this.

  I grab the steering wheel with both hands, inhale steadily, and let out a long, slow breath through pursed lips.

  Briar’s just digging himself deeper in this grave of his. All of this is anecdotal — the woods, the fence, the forest, Addy’s backyard, detention.

  But it doesn’t have to be just my word against his. In this day and age, proof is but a cellphone camera away.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Briar

  I climb into my Mustang wearing a shit-eating grin and hum a nonsense tune to myself as I head home. I have to start getting Indi in trouble more often — especially if I can spend every detention with her.

  My fuck, those sounds she made. The way she clamped around my fingers when she came…

  I shift in my seat, but I don’t will my erection to fade. This time, I relish it. I don’t care how wrong it is letting myself get this close to her. I’m on a high I haven’t been since Jess—

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head. When my eyes pop open, it’s to glare at the station wagon in front of me.

  Now I get it.

  When I’m with Indi, I forget that I’m a monster. That’s
why I can’t get enough of her. If it hadn’t been for Addy, we could have been perfect together. But the past will always creep in and contaminate what we could have had.

  My phone rings, and I answer it through my car’s Bluetooth audio system.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey, bro.”

  I blink. Why the hell does Marcus sound so fucked off? “Hey, man, what’s up?”

  There’s a moment’s silence before he speaks and it weighs a ton. “You still coming through or what?”

  Coming through…?

  Fuck.

  Fuck!

  “Shit, man, I forgot I had detention.”

  “Detention,” Marcus repeats.

  “Yeah, I told you yesterday. ‘Cos of that shit with—” I cut off before I say her name, but that doesn’t make it any better.

  “That’s cool man.”

  I blink, mouth still open to protest. “Oh. Okay.”

  What the fuck? I expected a meltdown of epic proportions.

  “So you still coming through?” Marcus asks.

  “Yeah. Sure.” I glance in the rearview mirror and put on my indicator. “Be there in five.”

  * * *

  We’re two beers in when things start getting weird.

  “Dunno what I’m going to do,” Marcus says.

  We’d been talking about coach’s obsession with the 46 defense.

  “About what?” I don’t look at him, instead inspecting the rows of bottles stretched in front of us.

  “Brandon’s being a fucking prick.”

  “He’s back already?”

  Marcus shakes his head. “Called me. Wants me working this weekend.”

  “This close to finals?”

  Marcus runs the rim of his beer glass against the bar’s scarred surface. “Doesn’t give a shit about that.”

  “He should. Your grades—”

  “Mean nothing.” Marcus drags at his cigarette before crushing out the filter in our ashtray. “He told me attorneys won’t make close to what I will, working for him.”

  I bark out a laugh, but my face falls when Marcus turns blackly somber eyes on me.

  “Dude, what does that even mean? There’s no way you can make—”

  “Not the security company,” Marcus says, his eyes and voice dropping simultaneously. He leans in. “Brandon…his money never came from the company.”

  I sit back, my eyebrows lifting to my hairline. “Then where?”

  Marcus shrugs a little, and then takes out his vape. He offers it to me, but I wave it away — I’m much more interested in what he’s got to say than in getting high.

  “My dad’s into some dodgy shit, okay?” Marcus hits his vape again, considers it for a moment, and then slips it back into his pocket. He shakes loose a cigarette, and this time when he offers I accept. I cup my hands around it to light it, and hitch up one foot so it’s on the highest rung of the bar stool. “Dodgy how?”

  “Probably best if you don’t know,” Marcus says, his eyes going everywhere except to mine. He seems nervous, but it doesn’t look as if this is news to him.

  “You’ve known about this?”

  “Yeah,” he says, rolling the tip of his cigarette around in the ashtray until the ash forms a peak. “Helped him before. But…” He swipes at the air with his hand.

  What the fuck is he trying to spit out? I do my best to be patient, but I realize I’m drumming my fingers on the table the same time Marcus does.

  His spine snaps straight, and he downs the rest of his drink. “Forget it.”

  “No, man, don’t—” I grab his shoulder and squeeze. “Just say what you gotta say.”

  Marcus shrugs off my hand, but after another pull at his cigarette, his dark eyes dart over to me and fix.

  “The first time he asked…” He licks his lips. “He caught me on a good day. Or a bad one, I guess. Made it sound easy. So I did it, but it all went to shit. And then…” He shrugs, and lifts the hand holding his cigarette to stroke his jaw. Smoke obscures his face for a moment before he sits back as if to get out of that toxic cloud.

  “I keep going back and forth — hating it, loving it, hating it. What if I stop hating it?”

  “What did he ask you to do?”

  Marcus’s jaw bunches, and his throat moves as he swallows. But before he can answer, his phone rings.

  I hold out my hand, telling him to ignore it, but when he looks at me, I already know he wouldn’t dare to.

  He pulls out his phone, and his shoulders sag as soon as he sees who it is.

  “Marcus.”

  He lifts his gaze, and a rueful smile raises one side of his mouth. “What you gonna do, right? It’s family.”

  My skin crawls at the bitterness in his words, but he pulls away when I grab him to keep him from leaving. He weaves his way out of the pub, lifting his phone to his ear as soon as he pushes on the door to go out.

  Drumming out a relentless staccato on the wood, I finish the rest of my beer and order us another round. Hopefully, Marcus will feel more talkative after another.

  What kind of dodgy shit could his father possibly be into? Money laundering? Drugs? Arms?

  Christ, the list is endless, now that I think about it. And it’s starting to make sense; why his father is always out, the random violence when he comes back. I don’t doubt for a minute that you need to have a mean streak to make it big in the criminal underworld.

  A hand falls on my shoulder, and I twitch as I’m hauled out of idle speculation.

  Marcus sits, and taps his phone against his thigh for a few seconds before putting it away. He opens his mouth, but I don’t let him speak.

  “I’ll call my dad tonight,” I say. “If I can get hold of him, then—”

  The bartender brings us our beers, and I wait for him to be out of earshot before I continue. “We’ve got like six months before the end of term. You can stay with me.”

  Marcus swings his head to look at me, frowning hard. “I can’t do that.”

  “Of course you can,” I say through a laugh. “I told you, my dad probably wouldn’t even notice. But I’d rather ask, then he doesn’t think I’m suddenly drinking twice the amount of beer as usual.”

  Marcus’s lips lift into a phantom smile. “He won’t mind?”

  “Fuck no!” I lift my beer bottle and tap it against his. “And long as you don’t hog the X-Box, then I don’t give a fuck either.”

  Marcus lets out a laugh, but it sounds stiff and uncomfortable.

  I clap a hand on his back, and lean in. “Now, wanna hear what I got up to in detention?”

  * * *

  Indi

  You could have used my brain as the marshmallow bit for a Smore. I have a book open in front of me, but apparently it’s all in pig Latin. No surprise here — I keep daydreaming about what Briar did to me in detention. Every time that happens, it’s like I’m right back there. And trying to study while this fucking horny?

  Impossible.

  I’d been considering taking a long bath for almost fifteen minutes already when the house phone rings.

  I turn a page in my textbook and do my best to read the words instead of replaying the sensation of Briar’s thumb on my clit.

  There’s a knock on my bedroom door.

  I twist on my bed and scowl at the wooden paneling, but that doesn’t stop Marigold from coming inside.

  Her mouth is pursed, and her eyes sweep across the room as if she’s purposefully trying to find something wrong with this scenario so she can ground me for another month.

  “There’s a phone call for you,” she says when her inspection is complete.

  “Who?”

  Her eyes narrow a little. “The insurance company.”

  I frown and scramble off the bed, trailing her to the phone in the hallway. She stands so close to me when I take the call that I can smell stale cigarette smoke mingling with lavender perfume wafting from her. I turn my back and cringe around the phone, feeling like I’m in a prison trying to have pho
ne sex with my beau.

  “Hello?”

  “May I please speak with Indigo Virgo?”

  “Her speaking.” I take a quick peek over my shoulder and give my grandmother a glare that she ignores.

  “Ms. Virgo, this is Mr. Fallow from the claims department. It regards your insurance claim on the property on 12 Northenden Drive, Lakeview?”

  “Yes?” A thick wave of uneasiness washes over me. This is the first time since I called them about my rental car that I’ve heard back from the insurance company.

  “Our claims investigator has submitted his report on the household contents section of your claim. Am I correct in believing that you were denied entry to the premises after the fire?”

  “Yes.”

  Denied entry is putting it mildly. The whole place had been taped up as a crime scene, and it didn’t matter how much I yelled, howled, or sobbed at them, they wouldn’t let me go inside. After I’d come down off the tranquilizers enough to give my statement to the police, I had to stay with my friend until social services handed me over to Marigold, my closest surviving kin and guardian.

  “Our investigator inventoried the remaining undamaged items. Fortunately, several of the high-value items specified on your policy were retrieved undamaged.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  I guess this guy does this every day, because you’d think he’d sound happier about the fact that he didn’t have to pay out so much money.

  God, why couldn’t Marigold have handled this shit? My mind’s already slipping away to much, much more pleasant things.

  Detention, for example.

  “…item we can confirm missing.”

  “Sorry?” I say, reluctantly dragging myself back to the present.

  “There is one high-value item we can confirm as missing.”

  Instantly, my mind flashes to the necklace safe in its hiding spot upstairs.

  I open my mouth to tell them I have it, but the claims guy doesn’t give me a chance to speak.

  “Since the value of this item is over five-hundred-thousand, we are now changing the type of claim from fire damage to theft.”