Wicked Titan: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Golden Olympus Academy Book 1)

by A. J. Logan

  Asher’s palm greedily trails up my exposed thigh, stroking over my shorts as his hands grip my ass. Fuck. He’s already conquered me because I don’t just want to feel him … I need to feel him, taste him, experience him, control him. Revoke every shred of his will power as he has mine.

  “Say it.” His hands release my backside as he goes to step away, but my fingers maintain a steady grasp on his shirt.

  “You’re such an ass.” I squeeze my thighs together, attempting to relieve the sensation. I want to throttle him. He knows—but he wants to hear me beg. Just as he said he would. I’m going to regret this, but I want him. I want to feel his mouth on me. I want to feel something other than pain, if only for a moment until Asher returns to being my personal kryptonite. Clinging to him, I pull him to me. “Please.”

  His mouth crashes against mine as soon as the word leaves my lips. Desperately exploring, his hands move under my thin tank top, pulling it over my head as every ounce of uncertainty vanishes.

  Yearning for his skin against mine, I slide my fingers under the hem of his shirt before lifting it as he tugs it over his head in one swift movement. His chiseled chest presses against my exposed breasts, as his hands slip into my pajama bottoms, pushing my panties and shorts down. I stand naked and vulnerable, his eyes hungrily take in my exposed body. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” His lips return to mine, hungrily exploring as my hands grip his shoulders, nails biting into the hard muscles.

  His mouth breaks away from mine as I gasp, sucking in a breath. He trails his tongue down my neck, teasing my skin, as his hand moves up my thigh. Asher flicks his tongue over my nipple before sucking it in his mouth, stroking my clit with his finger. The sensations are too much and not enough, my back arches away from the wall as I seek closer contact, wanting to feel more of him. A sinister laugh vibrates against my skin as he trails kisses down my stomach. He kneels before me—something you could not have convinced me would happen in this lifetime before tonight—and his hand glides firmly up my thigh before he grips and lifts my leg, resting it on his shoulder. His fingers slide into my pussy, his mouth sucking and teasing my clit.

  Clutching his hair, I rock against his mouth. His fingers thrust into me as his other hand grips my ass, pulling me forward as I arch away from the wall. A moan escapes my lips, my body quivering as he brings me to the peak, teasing my sex with his tongue as I shudder in release.

  The wall might be the only thing holding me up as I lean against it, feeling like putty in his hand as he stands, his tongue licking up my body before moving to taste my mouth.

  My fingers unbutton his jeans as I feel his body tense. It’s his turn to beg, relinquishing control to me. “Tell me, Asher.”

  “Be careful what you ask for, Weakling.”

  I push his boxers down, taking his hard cock in my hand, and I stroke his length, rubbing my thumb over the tip. His mouth crashes against mine as I taste myself on his lips, fueling my desire to make him beg.

  My fingers entwine in his hair, tugging his head back. “Say it.”

  He curses under his breath before rasping, “Please.”

  A grin spreads across my face as I trail kisses down his chest, licking and exploring his hard planes while my hand continues to stroke his length. My back is against the wall as I get on my knees, so I turn slightly sideway to take him in my mouth. He thrusts forwards, one hand gripping my hair and his other braces on the wall.

  I tease the tip, tasting him as I stroke with one hand, smoothing my other up his stomach, feeling the taut muscles stiffening under my touch. I feel in control of him, and it’s utterly satisfying, igniting a boldness in me as I take as much of him in my mouth as I can. Sucking, my tongue glides along his slick, hard cock as Asher’s fingers tighten in my hair and he lets out a throaty groan. He stands rigid, unmoving, but I don’t let up, knowing that he is unraveling at my command. I continue sucking and stroking as he begins to move, abiding by the rhythm I’ve set. His size makes it difficult to keep up as he fills my mouth, but I take every thrust, enjoying this as much as him.

  He moves slightly back, pulling away. “I’m gonna come.”

  My hand grips his ass cheek, squeezing and pulling him to me, teasing his cock with my tongue. He exhales a low growl as warm liquid fills my mouth. Swallowing as I suck, I draw every drop out as I gaze up at him, an intense look fills his eyes as he stares down at me.

  “Fuck, Quinn.” He entwines his fingers in my hair, urging me up to standing. He presses me against the wall, his lips feathering kisses over mine. Strong hands explore my body, unable to get enough—just like me. I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging on to what’s left of the moment because I know it won’t be long before reality crashes down. Again.

  29

  Thoughts of last night are fresh on my mind as I squirm in my bed. I hope we can just move on now that we’ve gotten each other off. Indecent, I know, but he will never be more than a release—a damn good one at that, but still just a release.

  I’m still trying to decipher the confidence that overcame me. It definitely took me by surprise being that Asher was the first guy I’d ever given a blow job. It wasn’t from lack of requests; Mason campaigned for them on several occasions since I kept telling him I wasn’t ready to have sex. It’s not like I’m a virgin, but I never wanted to do that with Mason. Asher, on the other hand, I freely volunteered to go down on and wouldn’t mind doing it again, and perhaps, explore some other methods of release.

  I jump at the sound of a text, pulled from my dirty thoughts about someone I shouldn’t even speak to much less suck off in the garage. Shaking my head, I glance over to my phone.

  Haley: Can we hang out tonight, please?

  I don’t respond, and another text comes through.

  Haley: Are you ever going to forgive me?

  Me: No, so don’t use me as an excuse to dump Mason.

  Haley: How did you know we broke up?

  My phone rings, it’s a call from Haley. Mason didn’t tell her about his adventure at Golden Olympus.

  “What?” I say, holding the phone to my ear.

  “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  “Quinn, what happened? His face is bruised up. He said he fell, then got aggravated when I kept questioning him.”

  I can’t remember what had been appealing about him or why exactly I’d been so giddy with him. But she just let me know that they are still seeing each other; whether it’s as friends or more is not my concern.

  “We aren’t friends, Haley. We won’t ever be friends again, so don’t tell him I’m the reason you don’t want to be with him.”

  She says my name as I end the call.

  An ache swells in my chest. She was supposed to be my best friend. We should be living together right now, but nothing is how it should be. I toss my phone on the bed as I fall back, the soft comforter hugging around me. I just want to stay here for a little longer.

  Closing my eyes, I see Asher looking down at me as a surge of desire stirs in my core.

  Damn it.

  30

  Sitting in my car, I glance at the time—again—waiting until the last possible second to leave the security of the Audi before heading into school. I watch as Grant steps out of his car, two coffees in his hand as he heads my way. Here we go.

  Snatching my bag, I step out of my car without looking his way as I head toward the building. Jogging, he catches up to me, holding one of the coffees out.

  “Here. I figured I’d bring it to you since you didn’t show.”

  “I don’t want it. Give it to someone else.” As we approach the door, just before I reach for the handle, my name is called. I pause while people push past me, knowing this isn’t a voice I can ignore or pretend not to hear. I recognize the detective standing there. The one who’d questioned me the morning after my dad’s accident. Not the nice one.

  “What’s going on?” Did they find him? My hand clutches my stomach. I don’t want to hear it if it’s
bad news. Not here. Not now. Not ever.

  Detective Davis glances at Grant who’s still standing next to me. “I have a few questions if you’re up for it.”

  There’s a reason he came here and not Candace’s house, knowing I’m eighteen now so I don’t need a guardian present. Curiosity captures my interest enough to walk away from the building. Grant watches us for a moment before walking through the door as I follow Davis away from the crowd rushing inside the school.

  “Where’s Detective Taylor?”

  “Busy.”

  Propping a hand on my hip, I wait for him to speak. I’ll cooperate but I refuse to make it easier for him if he’s going to be a dick.

  “Anything you want to tell me?” he asks, looking behind me before moving his eyes back to mine.

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Can you get to the point? You came here to talk with me.”

  “I want to know what your dad was working on.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. And this is going to take a long time if you ask me the same questions over and over.”

  “Well … I’m not convinced you didn’t know.”

  An exasperated breath comes out as I say, “Okay. Next.”

  He pulls an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “The reason I’m not convinced is your signature is on this contract.”

  I snatch the paper out of his hand before he has time to unfold it completely.

  Scanning the top of the document, I see Ruby Flame Marketing across the top before studying the signature at the bottom—my signature—only it’s not.

  “I never signed this. I’ve never even seen it before.”

  Reading the details, I try to understand why my name would be on a contract having to do with my dad’s work.

  “My dad’s a real estate agent and that’s not the company he worked for. Why would my signature be on some random contract? What could he have possibly needed that for? Why would he even be involved with this company?”

  “How much do you know about your stepfather’s line of work?”

  My head snaps up. I don’t know much at all about his company, but I don’t like where this is heading. Nathan might be doing some sketchy things with his best friend’s wife—at least, I’m guessing it’s sketchy since stumbling upon his secret meeting with Monica Hastings—but I don’t like where I think this is headed. “Nathan has nothing to do with this.”

  “Notice the date on that contract?”

  It’s the day of the accident.

  Detective Davis pulls another paper out of the envelope, hands it to me, and I unfold it. My fingers tremble, afraid of what I’ll find.

  Clutching the paper, I read Vast Perception Marketing across the top of the page, Nathan’s company. It’s another contract with my forged signature, but there’s also a red stamp denoting it VOID, and it’s dated the day before the accident.

  “Ruby Flame underbid, losing loads of profit on the deal, just to snatch the contract from Vast Perception.”

  The paper trembles in my hand as I stare at the date.

  “Money motivates people to do things they normally wouldn’t do, and people have killed for much less than four million dollars.”

  Four million? The exact amount Nathan offered me.

  That can’t be a coincidence.

  Did Dad know he was bidding against Nathan’s company? Did Nathan know? I don’t know Nathan, but I can’t wrap my head around him being motivated to kill, even if money was involved—but why would he offer me the same amount that my dad cost his company? And why in the actual fuck would my forged signature be on two different contracts that I’d never even heard of weeks ago?

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You have two choices. You can run off and tell your stepdaddy all about this conversation or you can keep your eyes and ears open and let me know if anything comes up.” He hands me a card with a phone number written in pen on the back.

  I shove the card in my bag. “I have to go.”

  “Be careful who you trust.” His voice sounds impatient and stern, causing me to halt, though I don’t turn to look at him. “This world is a different beast than the one you grew up in.”

  “I don’t trust anyone, you included,” I say over my shoulder.

  “Smart girl,” he says as I walk away, my head swarming with the overload of information.

  My fingers shake, fumbling through my locker combination as the hallway empties, leaving me alone to stare into my locker, not concerned when the final bell rings. I’m too caught up in what a brain twister this world has become. Each day reveals new evils and more deception than the one before, and my dad was somehow involved in all of it. I need to know what happened to my dad. A gloomy feeling tells me more lies will come to light before the truth is revealed.

  31

  The conversation from this morning weighs heavily on my mind as I sit with Victoria at lunch, unable to concentrate on the math book in front of me.

  Elliot slides onto the bench next to Victoria with a mischievous grin. “You missed an epic party Friday night, Quinnster.”

  Heat spreads across my cheeks as I recall the private party going down (no pun intended) in my garage during Asher’s absence at his own.

  Victoria slams her book closed, looking to Elliot. “Why are you over here?”

  “I’m talking to my friend, so mind your business, lil’ V.” He mocks her head shake.

  It’s clear Victoria isn’t any happier with her nickname than I am with mine. Elliot sure does have a knack for giving out horrible ones.

  Asher sits next to me, straddling the wooden bench to face me.

  “Seriously? Why are you over here? Go back to your spot,” Victoria says to her brother, who predictably disregards her.

  Wade hops up, sitting on the end of the table as he talks to Elliot.

  “Fine.” Victoria jams her books in her bag as she stands. “I’ll leave.”

  “I’ll walk with you.” I dart up without looking to my side where I know Asher is watching.

  I hurry to catch up with Victoria as she storms into the school.

  “Hey. Are you all right?”

  She hesitates a moment before speaking. “I’ve just had enough of them all over the house all weekend, and I’m not in the mood to deal with any of them right now.”

  “That’s understandable. Why don’t we go watch the librarian feed crickets to her snake to make you feel better?” I give her a half-smile as she shakes her head with a laugh. We head to the library, both trying to distract ourselves from everything we aren’t ready to deal with.

  Walking to shop class, I’m still disturbed by what I saw in the library when someone grabs my arm, hauling me quickly into an empty room.

  The familiar scent of vinegar fills my nose as I blink rapidly, waiting to adjust to the darkness, when a soft red glow appears in the room. Memories of the last time we were in this room leave me unsettled.

  “Stop doing that.”

  “You’re still here, so you must not mind too much.” Asher steps in front of me, red light reflecting in his eyes as he leans forward, stopping just as his lips brush against mine before retreating.

  Damn him. He knows exactly what he’s doing and enjoys every moment of it. “You’re insufferable.”

  “And I’d bet you’re wet.” He casually strolls to the back of the room, shuffling through something on the table.

  “Asshole,” I mumble, moving to look around the darkroom. I’d guessed that’s what room we’d been in last time Asher pulled his crap, but I hadn’t exactly had time or been in the right frame of mind to investigate.

  He leans against the wall, watching as I explore the room. There’s a reason he’s pulled me into this room again.

  A picture of the lake beyond the courtyard catches my attention. Mainly because it’s the lake that Asher and I took a swim in the first day of school. “Did you ta
ke this?”

  He nods.

  Hm. I’m impressed that tough guy, Asher Hastings, likes doing something as trivial as taking pictures. It’s baffling. “I figured you play sports or something. You know, where you can fight or throw things.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Never said I didn’t play sports. Some of us have multiple talents.”

  “Sure.” I roll my eyes, knowing there is a sexual reference in his words but we’re in this room for another reason. This room must mean something to him.

  Pointing around at the pictures, he shows me the ones he’s taken. Most are around campus or scenic photographs, but I love them all.

  “These are really good.” He remains silent as I move in front of him. “Why are you showing me all of this?”

  “No reason,” he says, casually remaining against the wall.

  Everything Asher does is calculated with a determined—if delusional—reasoning behind it. “I call bullshit.”

  Snaking an arm around my waist, he pulls me against him. Raising his other arm, he brushes his palm against my cheek, rubbing his thumb across my skin, reminding me of the moment he made the same gesture in the garage when he wiped my tears away. “A picture can hold more pain than a thousand lies.”

  Another riddle to decipher, just like the complicated human being before me. “Care to elaborate?”

  His expression remains unreadable, almost painful, as a knock sounds on the door. His voice is low and raspy as he whispers, “Time’s up.”

  Clasping my hand, he leads me to the door where a student is waiting for his turn to use the darkroom. I’m lost in my thoughts, confused as ever about the many sides of Asher Hastings.

  Giving us a knowingly look, the guy smirks as we walk out the room. Seriously? We weren’t even doing anything, yet I can’t stop the blush from spreading on my face.

  “I have to get to class.” I pull out of Asher’s grasp, hurrying away without looking back at him.