Brutal Bully (Bad Bullies Book One): A Dark High School Bully Romance Page 26

  Indi releases my hand, and the pair of them sweep past me without a second glance. I’m left staring at Jeremiah with a frown and an inexplicable urge to take Marcus up on his offer for a line of coke.

  Instead, I follow Indi and Addison inside, feeling for all the world like a sheep who’s only just realized who the fucking sheepdog in this situation was.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Indi

  This house is a masterpiece of architectural genius. There’s nothing cozy or open-plan about it — it’s a sprawling collection of intimate lounges and hidey holes that seem custom-made for making out. No wonder Dylan throws these parties on the regular. If this were a club, he’d be making a killing.

  Addison has hold of my hand, and I’ll be honest, it’s the only thing keeping me grounded right now. We had two glasses of wine and a fat blunt while I was getting ready at her house, and since my last meal was a sandwich at lunch, I’m flying pretty fucking high.

  The temptation to turn around and see if Briar is still following is powerful, but I know I’ll trip and fall if I try. I didn’t want to let go of Briar’s hand, but Addy’s right — tonight, I’m in charge. If anything, it will piss him off so much, he’s bound to take back control in the worst way.

  And we’ll be there, ready and waiting to capture every deviant moment.

  Addy seems to know this place well. She tugs me after her without hesitation as she weaves around the kids littered throughout Dylan’s house. Music thumps in the background, weed and cigarette smoke hang thick in the air, and almost everyone I pass stinks of booze. I haven’t seen this many dilated pupils since I last partied at Queenies just outside Lakeview.

  Addy sashays us through a kitchen, grabbing a pair of pink drinks from an ice bucket without pausing. The music gets louder. The congestion in the passages thickens.

  Heads turn to follow us as we pass. Some envious, some considering, others openly leering.

  I glimpse a big open-plan room with two pool tables, a dartboard, and a swarm of kids. Instead of heading inside, Addy leads me down a staircase.

  It’s dark down here — the only light comes from a projector screen that’s playing some freaky fractals and a mirror ball that doesn’t seem to be doing much good. Here, the music is a physical entity. It pounds into my body with relentless force, making me hesitate before Addy tugs me after her.

  She spins around, hands me one of the pink bottles she swiped from the kitchen, and raises it for a cheer.

  “To getting fucked up!” she yells.

  “To getting fucked up!” I yell back, and clink our bottles.

  Damn, the music is intoxicating. Even as Addy starts shifting to the rhythm, my eyes slide closed. I slip away from the here and now, and lose myself to the track.

  I’m rudely drawn back to the present when hands grip around my waist, and for a moment I wonder what on earth Addy’s doing. But when my eyes fly open, her eyes are locked on someone behind me.

  A jumble of strange sensations flood me. That exact look had been in her eyes in that dream — hatred.

  Marcus or Briar?

  But as soon as I’m drawn back into the hard body behind me, I know it’s Briar who’s holding me. His smell envelops me, comforts me, arouses me all at the same time. I breathe him in, arching my ass against his groin.

  In these shoes, I’m actually the right height for him.

  I can’t help the coy smile that touches my mouth when I feel him harden against me a moment later.

  “Let’s talk,” he says in my ear, his hands sliding over my belly.

  “Let’s dance,” I yell back, not caring if he can hear or not. Addy’s turned her back on us as if she can’t stand the sight of us dancing together, and it takes sincere effort for me not to giggle at her theatrics.

  I spin in Briar’s arms, drape my wrists over his shoulders, and start twisting in time with the beat. I’m far from an accomplished dancer, but what I lack in technical training I make up for in enthusiasm.

  I can see the battle in his eyes — he wants to maintain eye contact, but his eyelids flutter how badly he wants to look at my curves.

  And as soon as he crumbles and his eyes drag over my body, I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Up here!”

  His eyes narrow, and his lip lifts up in a snarl. He grabs me and crushes our bodies together. His hands grab hard onto my ass, squeezing me through the dress. With those long fingers of his, he’s almost touching my pussy.

  I go on tiptoes, trying to move away from his touch, but he just gives me a bemused smile and grabs the back of my neck.

  When he kisses me, everything vanishes.

  The crowd.

  The music.

  Everything.

  All that’s left is the feel of his lips against mine. The urgency of his tongue; how he forces it deep, deep inside my mouth. The hardness of his cock; irrefutable evidence of how much he wants me.

  Fuck, it’s too much. I honestly hope Addy’s paying attention, because I’m about to skip stage two-through-seven of our plan and go straight for the money shot.

  * * *

  Briar

  It worked. Indi doesn’t want to dance anymore. She breaks off our kiss, looking shell shocked and more than a little breathless.

  “Come,” I tell her, grabbing her hand.

  She nods.

  I turn and lead her out of the crowded downstairs room Dylan converted into his own private club a year or so back.

  There are too many stairs between us and our destination. I start taking them two at a time, then three, until Indi pulls back on my hand.

  She swoons away from me, grabbing on the railing and shaking her head.

  Too fast?

  Fuck it.

  Too slow.

  I jump down the two stairs between us, scoop her up, and ignore her distressed squeal as I race up the stairs.

  “Briar, stop!” But she’s laughing so much, she’s barely coherent.

  I reach the top floor of Dylan’s house, and try the first door.

  Locked.

  The second door’s open, but as soon as it swings open there’s a yell from inside.

  Occupied.

  I back out, slamming the door behind me with a growl stemming in the back of my throat. That’s why doors have locks, idiots!

  Somewhere in the course of arriving here tonight and now, Dylan’s house has transformed into a fucking opium den. Every room upstairs is either locked or occupied — the master bedroom by the fucker himself and three girls.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Briar, slow down. We can—”

  “Shut it,” I snap.

  Sure enough, when I glance down, Indi’s mouth is open, and her eyes are twinkling with anger. She squirms and twists hard enough to slip out of my grip. But she only gets two paces before I grab her arm and haul her back to me.

  “Too late,” I growl. “Should have run when you had the chance, my little virgin.”

  “Briar!” She yanks at her arm, but I just tighten my grip. “What are you—?”

  Instead of letting her finish, I haul her toward me, push her against the wall, and cage her in with my arms. “I told you, we both know what’s gonna happen tonight.”

  She opens her mouth, but words fail her.

  Which suits me fucking perfectly.

  I grab her ass, relishing the feel of her curves as I hoist her up against the wall. She’s still fighting me but, fuck, we both know it doesn’t matter.

  My hands slide under her glorious dress, and I grab the side of her underwear. Tug. Draw it down her thighs. It gets stuck of course — her legs are wrapped around mine, so there’s not much leeway — but I have access to her cunt and that’s all I care about right now.

  I kiss her. Ferociously, savagely, until she moans against my mouth. I can’t make out if those sounds are laden with fear or passion, but I’m way past the point of caring. My need for Indi has surpassed anything remotely humane. I’m ready to burst, like an overripe fruit
, if I don’t fuck her, right here, right fucking now.

  I zip down my fly, wrestle out my cock, and push it against her entrance.

  Her wetness coats my crown, my fingers. I break off our kiss and haul much-needed oxygen into my lungs.

  “Please, Briar,” Indi chokes out.

  I have to force my eyes open, and when they do, I see hers are brimming with tears. I swallow down a growl of impatience and rub the tip of my dick over her wet as fuck pussy. “What?” I manage, my voice so thick and low, I’m surprised she can even understand me.

  “Not like this,” she whispers in a shaking voice. “Please…not like this.”

  Maybe it’s the way she says it. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes. No longer fierce as a falcon, but desperate, hopeful, pleading.

  I press my cock against her, my body trembling with its need to force my way inside her hot, wet cunt. But when she mewls into my ear, her fingers digging into the back of my neck as if she’s bracing herself…

  “Fuck,” I murmur into her ear. “You’re really…?”

  I move away, shoving my complaining cock back inside my pants. Indi lets out a tattered sob, but as soon as her shoes touch the ground, the sound cuts off. When I step back, her damp eyes could have belonged to someone else. She glares at me, her mouth in a line and her hands fisted at her sides.

  I’d just been kidding with the whole virgin thing.

  I don’t know why, but this changes everything. Our games, this back and forth. Right now, I feel like a filthy deviant for even attempting to be inside her.

  I let my eyes fall down her body, but before I get far, they’re drawn back up to her collarbones. I’m not a jewelry guru or any such thing, but I need all the distraction I can right now.

  I grab the necklace hanging around her neck. The one that so perfectly matches her bracelet. “This is—”

  “Briar! There you are.”

  My body moves on some subconscious level. I step back and let go of Indi’s necklace without thought. From the corner of my eye, I see her shifting from side to side as she tugs up her panties.

  Marcus strides up to us wearing a cocky smile, a girl from the cheerleading squad trailing him like a lost lamb.

  “You know Jennika, right?”

  I blink hard, shake my head. “Yeah, sure…”

  Marcus cocks his head to the closest doorway. “She’s got something to show you.”

  “Uh…Marcus…” I tug at my dress shirt, and glance back at Indi. She’s glaring at Marcus, but as soon as I look at her, she must feel my eyes on her because she suddenly wraps her arms around herself.

  “This isn’t the right time…” I say, gesturing weakly at the girl as she comes to a stop beside Marcus.

  But he’s not looking at me anymore — his gaze is locked on Indi.

  No, not her.

  Her necklace.

  “Where did you—?” he starts, pointing at her like she’s grown a third arm. But before any of us can react, his face breaks into a warm smile. “Don’t you look fucking gorgeous?” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Now I’m getting your vibe, bro.”

  I step forward warily, but Marcus doesn’t move even though his eyes take on the gleam of a voracious predator.

  “Makes Jennika here look like a ten-dollar whore,” Marcus says.

  Jennika squeaks out a protest, scowls at Marcus, and storms away down the hall.

  “Dude, that’s not—” I start, but I cut off when Marcus steps right up to Indi.

  I stick out my arm, blocking him, and he does come up short, but without acknowledging me or the arm in his way.

  “Don’t you clean up nice?” Marcus says.

  From the corner of my eye, I spot Indi grab her necklace in a fist. It makes the bracelet I borrowed for her gleam in the hall’s subtle downlights, but Marcus seems less interested in that trinket than the stone around her neck.

  I’m not surprised. That sapphire must have set her back half a bar. Or her parents, at least — there’s no way she bought something like for herself. A family heirloom, then? Something that wasn’t lost in the fire?

  Or was that all a fucking lie?

  I take a step back, raking my gaze over Indi.

  She’s dressed to the fucking nines, when just today she told me she didn’t even have a dress. It can’t be Addy’s — Indi would be swimming in even the shortest, tightest thing Addy owns.

  Suddenly, I’d rather stick my cock in a fucking vacuum cleaner than put it anywhere near Indigo Virgo.

  I push past Marcus, dimly aware that Indi’s trying to talk to me, but the super-heated blood rushing through my ears drowns it out.

  Fuck her.

  Fuck this.

  Fuck everything.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Indi

  It’s as if Briar was some kind of shield. The moment he turns the corner, I’m no longer protected by his presence. Cue Marcus — who’s so fucked, I can’t imagine how many drugs he’s on. I push against him, my mind still whirling with how close Briar was to fucking me.

  Marcus’s jaw works feverishly as he steps closer. I keep backing up, but I’m only too aware that I’m running out of hallway with every step.

  “I need the bathroom,” I say.

  “We all need shit, princess.” Marcus grabs my necklace, and I freeze. I want to move away, but I’m too scared he’ll yank and the chain will break. I can’t risk losing the only thing I have left of my mother.

  Then why the fuck did you wear it tonight, you egotistical moron?

  Marcus’s eyes dart up to mine. He smooths a curl away from my forehead, shaking his head. But his eyes aren’t on me, not really. They’re unfocused, his mouth moving as if he’s talking to himself.

  And when I catch him saying, “…she looked so peaceful…” I can’t bear him being close to me anymore.

  So I knee him in the groin.

  At least, I attempt to knee him in the groin. But just like self-defense courses have become pretty much compulsory for women these days, it seems every dick head in Lavish knows how to sidestep feisty chicks trying to knee them in the cherry popper.

  But it doesn’t matter that I don’t hit my target, because I’m free anyway. That’s the thing with men — you drop a bomb next to them and the first thing they do is cup their ball sacks.

  I race away from Marcus before I remember that I’m still wearing Addy’s suicidal heels.

  Which means I start running away, trip, fall, skin my knees, and almost twist my motherfucking ankle.

  I spin around, plop down on my ass, and start crawling away, already feeling Marcus’s hands on my ankles, my legs, my thighs.

  But he’s just standing there, watching me.

  I stop and slowly slide off my shoes while my heart thump-thump-thumps so fucking hard, I swear he can hear it.

  When my shoes are off, I stand.

  Marcus’s eyes track me, but that’s it. His shoulders have sagged, and there’s no expression on his face.

  It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.

  I back away, swallowing hard and wishing more than anything that I had enough guts to turn and run.

  But I just keep backing away until I have to turn the corner to go down the stairs, and that’s when I start running.

  * * *

  Addy meets me halfway down the stairs. She’s so out of it, I’m almost past her before she recognizes me.

  “There you are.”

  I cringe, hearing Marcus’s exact words played through Addy’s mouth. She tries to grab me, but I sidestep her easily. “Not now. I have to find Briar. I…I fucked up.”

  She starts smiling, but then schools her face with obvious effort. “Is it over already?” One side of her mouth twists up. “Fuck, I didn’t think he was a quick draw.”

  I shake my head, waving at her. “It’s not—just—” I break off with a frustrated growl and rush down the rest of the stairs.

  I did fuck up, because I was scared.

  I
got sentimental about my fucking hymen.

  Fuck knows why. Girl my age? Should have lost my v-card like three, four years ago.

  But it’s never seemed right.

  Briar feels right. But that hallway didn’t.

  Because Addy wasn’t there with her cellphone camera, duh.

  I shake away the thought.

  That’s not it. I don’t want my first time — consenting or otherwise — to be up against a hall in someone’s house.

  Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting roses and fucking champagne, but…

  Fuck that — I wasn’t expecting any of this. Not Briar’s passion. Not his animalistic urgency. Not the stutter of fear in my chest.

  I know it will hurt. That’s not it.

  The fact that Briar will break me…that’s it.

  I don’t know if I want someone like him to be my first. Yes, he ticks all my boxes. Yes, he’s gorgeous as fuck and knows my own body almost — but not quite — as well as I do…

  Am I a stupid romantic for thinking there’d be more? That there’d be love and devotion and some kind of commitment; the most kids our age can ever promise each other?

  My hand folds around mom’s necklace.

  You are an idiot, Indi. You’re weak, and sentimental, and you don’t deserve to lose your v-card on a rose petal scattered bed at some hotel. You had what you wanted. The perfect camera angle, a brightly lit space. Addy was moments away—

  No. Marcus was moments away.

  I stagger to a halt, and lean against the closest wall. I’m in the kitchen, and a few people are lingering here already. Some look up at my arrival, most don’t. That’s because they’re making out, zoning out, or purging, but I can’t hold any of those things against them.

  After all, we’re just kids. This is the kind of shit we get up to when our parents are away. In this case, it’s the kind of shit Dylan lets other kids get up to in his house when his parents are away.

  And then I see Briar.