Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Fucking is animalistic. Instinctual.” I trailed my fingertips over her thigh. “Something out of your control. And I’m not the guy to bullshit with.” My gaze flicked between her legs. “You wanna fuck me. I wanna fuck you. This just makes it more fun and a one-time deal with no strings attached.”
“I don’t want you.”
My fingers crept higher on her leg, and not once did she flinch. Not once did she try to stop me. “Admit it, baby girl. You want this disrespect. One fucking time.”
And she still didn’t stop me. Which was the only reason I kept going. I moved my hand beneath her skirt, then stopped, cocking a brow. “You and I both know, I go an inch further, and you’re going to be wet for me.” I smirked. “And then there’s no denying you want a little taste of a bad boy.”
I didn’t need to feel between her legs. The way she labored for each breath, the blush on her cheeks said everything I needed to know.
“Admit it.” I bought my lips close to hers. “Tell me you wouldn’t give me one dirty fuck, regardless of what of whether I helped you or not.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you help me, I’ll fuck you. Once.”
“No, baby girl.” My fingers played over the soft skin of her thigh. “Tell me you’d fuck me once, even if I didn’t help you.”
Because she would. But this—This made it way more fun.
“I followed you out to that van, didn’t I?”
Ex-fucking-actly. I went back to stool and tapped a hand over the island. “Shall we get down to business, then?”
She hopped down from the counter and opened the freezer, taking out one of those stupid Push-Pops she always grabbed at lunch. On day two of her stint at Dayton, I went to the cafeteria before her, gathered every last one of those things, and hid them under the Ice Cream Sandwiches. She bitched about it all through lunch, so I did it every day afterward. I liked it when she was angry.
Her tongue wrapped around the tip of that popsicle in a way that made my dick hard. Then she slid the Push-Pop between her lips. There was no way she wasn’t doing that on purpose, and if she wanted to draw attention to that, well…
“Is that how you suck a dick?” I asked, adjusting myself.
She wiped the corner of her mouth with her finger before licking that too. “So, how are you going to get me expelled?”
“Oh. I’m not getting you expelled. I’m more like a consultant on how you can get yourself expelled.” I didn’t trust her enough not to drag me down with her as a final fuck you, and the last thing I needed was to get sent to the reform school an hour away. “And we’ve already gone over the fee...” God, I was getting her ass expelled tomorrow.
She glared at me. “Okay, asshole. How do I get expelled?”
“Fighting—”
“I’m not getting in a fight.”
“Fucking—Which I’m not okay with.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m making a deal for a fuck, not to be owned.”
The thing she didn’t seem to see, as far as anyone in Dayton was concerned, I already did own her.
“Alright. Then you’re dealing weed.” I said.
“Oh, the irony.” She gave a long lick over the length of her popsicle. “Let me guess, I’ll get arrested too.”
“Depends on how much weed and Brown’s mood that day.” I focused on the way her tongue stroked over the rainbow-colored sherbet, thoughts of her on her knees flipped through my mind like a movie reel full of porn. My dick had never had so many moments of being let down in its life until she came around. I shifted again, trying to give it a little more room in my jeans.
Holding up a finger, she pulled her phone from her pocket, then jabbed over the screen—still sucking on that popsicle. A few seconds later, the device pinged, and Drew smiled. “Okay, it’s fine. My mom will sort it.”
I felt my brow lift. No way this girl had asked her mom if she would bail her out of jail for selling weed—to get expelled. “Your mom will...sort it?”
“Criminal records are unseemly.”
What in the hell did they teach kids at those private schools, because so far it seemed real-life logic was not on that curriculum.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not some spoiled brat.”
Like she wasn’t. I placed a hand on the cool counter, twisting in the chair to glance around the enormous kitchen. “Right… Armani jeans. Audi. Mansion. The ability to pay your way out of a prison record. Not spoiled in the slightest.”
She glared at me, the Push-Pop halfway in her mouth when she bit it clean in two. That almost made my hard-on disappear. Almost.
“My dad is a dick, okay? He put me in that school, and that’s as good as throwing me to the wolves.”