Morally Imperfect: A Bully Romance (The Bully Project Book 2)

by Savannah Rose

  With his knee, he pressed harder and continued to work me. My body soared, the need for him peaking higher the faster her worked me.

  “Come for me baby,” he whispered, his teeth grazing my ear and his knee expertly ripping me to shreds of ecstasy.

  I moaned and tried not to shake like a leaf in the autumn winds as my pussy dripped and my body stilled, sucking in every ounce of pleasure Maddox had to offer…with his knee. If I wasn’t so high on the orgasm that was buddying at my core, I might have laughed at how ridiculous this all was.

  “Come for me, Cornelia,” he whispered again, this time, with his gaze fixed on mine. There was heat and fire and determination in every single fleck of his irises. A look that would have had me dropping my panties faster than a flash of lightning, if only he’d given me the chance. But no, Maddox wanted to undo me here, with as little effort as possible and I was weak. Weak for him. Weak to him. Weak because of him. My knees shook and ecstasy shot through my core like fireworks on the fourth of July. The sounds that left my lips as my orgasm turned me inside out were a high-pitched wail of satisfaction that I didn’t care to bite back.

  In a matter of seconds I was done. In a matter of seconds, I was a screaming mess and the polka dot bikini bottoms felt like they’d already taken a dip in the pool.

  Easing back, Maddox took me in, the look on his face one of pure satisfaction. I cleared my throat and shook my head at him.

  “Well...” I said, my voice husky. My throat dry. “That was a first.”

  He shrugged. “Won’t be a last, though,” he quipped, acting completely unbothered. As though he didn’t have a boner as hard as a metal pole lifting a tent in his swim shorts.

  I licked my lips and caught his gaze in mine.

  Maddox shook his head. “I’m planning on fucking every single ounce of energy out of you the next time I take you. You’re a little too sober for that right now.”

  “Taking a woman when she hasn’t got her wits about her?” I teased, though if someone had asked me to sign permission of my body over to him, I would have done so in an instant. Maddox could have me anywhere and anytime, sober or un-sober, high as a kite or lower than the ocean-bottom. I was his to have and his to hold, his to fuck ten ways to Sunday. It wasn’t even a choice I had to make because my body made it for me.

  “You’ll have your wits about you, alright,” he promised and winked then pulled the door open.

  Chapter Two

  We were the first out by the pool, but certainly not the last. There was something in the atmosphere that had shifted with the stunt Robert pulled and it seemed as though no one felt like complying with whatever plan he had for the day.

  Despite my initial need to be left alone with nothing but a wine cooler, Maddox and my wayward thoughts, the extra company turned out to not be a bad thing. There was some peace in having the added chaos of the other guests in the house. It reminded me of how far I’d come and was such a stark contrast to the life I had when Marcus was a part of it that he slipped further and further to the back of my mind.

  Here, in this house, I didn’t just have Maddox. There were others I could lean on if I ever so pleased. I wasn’t the girl backed into a corner or the feeble little thing hoping no one would notice me but craving attention just the same. Instead, I was their equal. Someone they could talk to, someone they could hang with, someone they didn’t taunt or tease or turn their noses up at.

  Life really was different now and being here was even more proof of that.

  Reclining by the edge of the pool between Phee and Tammy, I sipped on my third wine cooler and tried to convince myself that I wasn’t already tipsy.

  “Don’t wanna.”

  “But it’ll look so good for the cameras,” Tammy was saying. Her eyes were narrowed and she was glancing around as if she could find the hidden cameras by willpower alone. “Think about it. You and Maddox are the only two without any real conflict. You both just suck at winning. You’ll never win over an audience by being perpetual losers.”

  “First of all,” I sighed. “There’s no audience to ‘win over’ this season and second of all; Hey!”

  “She’s right.” Phee interjected. “You two are cute, but if this game was based off of a point system you would have already been sent home.”

  Phee arched her back as she adjusted in her seat and her breasts strained the confines of her red bikini top. I wasn’t the only one who found themselves staring and Tammy threw me an amused wink.

  “It’s not my fault we cave under pressure.”

  Tammy laughed. “It kind of is. But, whatever you say sweet cheeks.”

  I was trying to decide how I felt about my husband’s bestie complimenting my ass when there was a shout from the other side of the courtyard.

  “It could be worse.” Phee nodded towards Sheila and Giles as they came within sight.

  “-fucking done with you,” Sheila was saying, her tone sharp and her face drawn into the tight kind of line that could out-straight a ruler.

  Giles, teeth clenched, reached out to grab her by the arm and with a cry she turned and slapped him across the face.

  Giles drew back, pressing a palm against his reddened skin and snarled. “You stupid, fucking-”

  “Bitch?” She interrupted, hands on her hips as she advanced on him. “Whore? Slut? Which one am I today?”

  “How about all three?” he bit back. His eyes blazed and she reared back to strike him again only to stumble forward when he caught her wrist and stopped her short.

  “You’re acting high and mighty for a gold-digger.”

  Like vultures circling a kill, the camera crew began to move in. It was moments like these when I remembered that we were all still under constant surveillance. The cameras had become background noise at some point and it was only when they moved in eerie silence that I noticed them at all.

  “Did you ever stop to wonder why I need the money or were you too distracted by my tits to care?”

  Giles released her and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You paid so much for them I just assumed-”

  “That’s right,” she interrupted. “You assumed. Because you’re an ass. So what if I used to be a stripper. That doesn’t give you the right to disrespect me. Especially since I’m pretty sure the only reason you hate me is because I won’t fuck you.”

  Giles laughed incredulously but couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the cameras. My eyes narrowed. On either side of me, Phee winced and Tammy’s mouth formed a little O of surprise.

  “This is stupid,” Giles muttered. He turned to leave but Sheila wasn’t finished. She was right back in front of him, her arms crossed over her own chest and venom in her gaze.

  “It’s stupid now that all the cameras are around,” she hissed, “but it wasn’t stupid last night when you tried to crawl into my bed. Again. You’re not going to impress that ex of yours by getting your dick wet.”

  “Right.” He stopped and threw up his hands. “Because you play for the other team. How could I forget.”

  Sheila froze.

  “I’m done.” The fire went out of her all at once and her voice was oddly calm. “I thought it would be worth it, ya know? A few years in a loveless marriage in exchange for a fresh start.” She laughed. “After all, I put up with men I don’t like all the time. At least this way you’d be the last one. At least this way I could save up for a life with Nat without having to put up with all the extra bullshit. But I’ve realized something. This shit isn’t worth it.” She shook her head. “You’re not worth a year of my life. I’d rather go back to stripping than put up with you for even one more day.”

  Giles was momentarily speechless, much like the rest of us, and without another word Sheila strode back towards the house. Stripping away her microphone, she tossed it against the concrete as she went. The thing didn’t splinter, but it came damn well close.

  Giles’ mouth opened and closed, unable to find its words. I could see him itching for the rig
ht way to act and the right thing to do, but his pride, dammit, his pride was warring with his actions. With a growl of frustration he took off after her. The cameras followed and with a low whistle, Phee settled back in her chair and adjusted her sunglasses.

  “That’s two down,” she said airily.

  I looked at her sharply.

  “Wow.”

  Phee lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “What?” When I simply looked at her, she shook her head. “I’m not here to play Kumbaya, Cornelia. Pete and I deserve to win. We’re going to win. If you didn’t come here to accomplish at least that much, you’re wasting your time and mine.”

  Phee had always reminded me of someone and I realized who with a suddenness that left me feeling stupid for not making the connection sooner. Phee and Sara were cut from the same cloth. Confident, beautiful, painfully practical in matters of the heart.

  I imagined that if Sara had gotten the chance, she would have grown up to be just like Phee and I was surprised by the tears that pricked my eyes. I looked away, gazing out over the pool. Sara and I hadn’t been friends by any stretch of the imagination, but I grieved for her all the same. I grieved for the friend she once was. For the woman she could have been. Maybe we could have found our way back to one another if she’d lived. Picked up where we’d left off after the sleepover that ended things between us.

  I frowned.

  Why had she stopped speaking to me? What the hell went so wrong that night at their house? Before that night we’d spent nearly every waking moment together. Afterwards, I’d been devastatingly betrayed. The only way I’d been able to cope was to refuse to think about it, to run away from it just like I did everything else. Lock all the memories in a part of my mind that not I, nor my therapist had access to. Now, I couldn’t help but to think back to that night. But just like always, all reasoning failed me. What had changed? What had made Marcus so damn mad?

  I tried and I tried and I tried to pull the memory to the forefront. Tried to couple it with the fact that Marcus thought he was protecting me. But from what? We’d watched Jeepers Creepers. That thought stormed my mind fast and heavy and I focused on it, trying to determine whether it was a real memory on not. It felt as though it was and the feeling of being that young again took ahold of my mind, knowing I was watching something that I should not have been; breaking the rules the way I could never had done at my own house.

  Is that what Marcus thought he was protecting me from? The monster from Jeepers Creepers. It didn’t make a lick of sense. But then again, we were young. Things didn’t make much sense back then. Even though I tried to smooth my wayward thoughts over with that idea, it just wouldn’t sit. Marcus wasn’t trying to protect me from some invisible monster. So what the hell was it?

  The memory of my last conversation with Sara rushed to the forefront of my mind.

  “Why do you hate me so much?”

  “Because you’re pathetic.” Answered her echo. “I could forgive you if you were nothing more than a fat loser Cornelia, but you’re so much worse than that. You’re a quitter. You roll over, show predators like Marcus your throat, and then expect everyone to get on the bandwagon of ‘poor Lia’ when he gives into the urge to rip out your jugular.” She rolled her eyes and readjusted her board. “It’d be gross if it weren’t so sad.”

  So maybe it was Marcus that I needed to be protected from?

  I shook my head. None of it made any sense, even to my drunk, adult brain. And most certainly not to my sober one. I took another sip of my wine cooler – more like a chug, actually, and tilted my head to the sun, allowing the rays to bathe my cheeks. I wasn’t wearing sunscreen, which meant that I’d regret this later, for sure. But I didn’t have the energy to think about that now because my thoughts were entirely somewhere else.

  Who was I kidding?

  Phee was right. I was entirely too sentimental. There was no point in analyzing the past anyway. After all, there was nothing I could do to change what happened to Sara.

  Talking about Sara’s death had opened an old wound and now I was falling into the trap that the living seemed prone to: Making Sara out to be some sort of martyr. Thinking that maybe if I had fought harder for our friendship, I could have saved her.

  The truth was, Sara grew darker the older she got and there was nothing I could have done about it. The most perfect people are addicted to a broken kind of life. That was Sara. That was Marcus. Me? I’d always struggled for perfection. We just weren’t made to be friends – them and I. Maybe that was all there was to it.

  It shouldn’t matter.

  But…

  Sara had been right then, and she was still right.

  Just because I was no longer a human doormat, didn’t mean that I was living to my full potential. I wasn’t giving life my all. I wasn’t trying and wasn’t that the same as quitting? Sure, Maddox and I might have won each other, but who’s to say that we couldn’t win everything.

  Sara’s words shouldn’t affect me after so many years but even so, I thought about that beautiful, mean, complicated girl and resolved to try just a little harder. If only so I could rub it in her face when we finally met on the other side.

  Kids on the block

  I’d always known that I was destined to live on the wrong side of the law. Guys like me, who haven’t got the means, the support, or the motivation to be something, find themselves growing up without a sense of purpose.

  Soon enough, the support of our parents - in my case, a meal or two, a place to sleep - falls away and we’re left to fend for ourselves. That time hasn’t come just yet, thankfully. But it will.

  I’ll be left without a warm bed at night, forced to fend for myself. All my friends with parents who give a damn will be moving on up in life and my ego won’t allow me to be the one packing their groceries or mowing their lawn, and so a life of crime is what I’ll eventually turn to.

  Needless to say, I didn’t expect that my first ride in a cop car would be because I murdered someone. And even if I had seen that coming, I wouldn’t have expected to not be a suspect. Even less than all that, did I expect that Cornelia would be the one accompanying me on the longest ride of my life.

  She hasn’t let my hand go, not once and her grip hasn’t wavered even a little bit. The comfort of it, however, is gone, but I don’t have the strength or the courage to let go. Guilt eats away at the pit of my stomach, working its ugly head up to my heart and I try, I fucking try my best to hold it together.

  Tilting my head to the side, I watch as the town rolls by, spotting all the places that I had frequented with my sister. All the places I will never visit with her again.

  A tear as hot as lava streaks down my cheek. I think it goes unseen and not wanting to draw attention to just how fucking weak I feel right now, I don’t move to swipe it away. Cornelia, though. Cornelia, Cornelia, Cornelia, she doesn’t miss a damn thing.

  “Marcus,” she whispers and gives my hand a little squeeze. She’s going to tell me that everything will be alright or spill some other kind of non-sensical bullshit. I don’t want to hear it. Not right now.

  The more we drive, the more I realize a lot of things. Like how unfair it is for me to sit here and eat up all the comfort she offers. Or the fact that she’s crying over someone who hasn’t done anything but treat her like shit for years and years and years. The fact that me, her worst fucking enemy, should earn even an ounce of her affection. It’s all wrong and before the universe chews me up even more than it has for taking advantage of all this, I rip my hand from her grasp.

  “You shouldn’t be crying,” I say.

  Cornelia looks shocked. Of course she does. The 180 I just did is enough to give anyone whiplash.

  “Marcus,” she whispers again, her eyes wide with something that I can’t quite put a name to.

  “You fucking hated her.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper, but even that is loud enough to get the cops attention. Despite my eyes being on Cornelia, I can see a switch flick in him.

&n
bsp; “I didn’t hate her,” Cornelia says. She doesn’t hide her voice the way that I did. It’s almost impressive just how much it sounds like she’s telling the truth. “Sara was my first friend, Marcus. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why the both of you pulled away from me the way that you did...but I don’t hate her.”

  Tears pool in her eyes again and I look away, not man enough to face the minute one of them falls. My hand feels empty without her hand in mine and so I weave my fingers together, craving contact...any kind of contact.

  Something comes over the radio, a bunch of codes that I don’t understand. My eyes are on the cop though, taking in his every expression. His every move. He looks slightly agitated and his foot hits the pedal a little harder.

  Soon enough, we’re zooming down the road toward my house, sirens blaring like they should be, because they are carrying a criminal, after all. Except they still don’t know that because if they did, we’d be taking a U-Turn and hightailing it in the direction of the police station. I’m not sure whether or not to be relieved or disappointed by that. then again, I’m not really in the headspace to feel any of those things. Guilt. That’s all I have. All I will ever have.

  We’re only a few minutes away from my house now and there are more codes booming through the cop’s radio. He says something back, something I don’t understand. But the way that he’s acting makes me think that maybe they’ve found her. Which means that I’m fucked.

  Cornelia’s voice cuts through my thoughts. It’s not me that she’s talking to, however. She’s asking the cop if he wouldn’t mind taking her home, her voice nervous as she squeezes the words out. I feel bad. It’s my fault that she doesn’t want to hang around, not that there’s a reason she should want to. But I get the feeling that the only reason she was doing this in the first place was to make sure that I wasn’t alone.