I drop my bag beside the chair and go to sit down, except, my butt doesn’t meet the chair like I anticipated. Instead, a squeal of surprise erupts from between my lips as I end up sprawled across the floor. My legs sprawl in different directions, and the palms of my hands slap against the floor when Brett jerks the desk out of range. I land on the marble tiling, hard, and my skirt flips up for the entire row to see. Hoots of laughter greet my ears, tinging them pink in embarrassment.
Motherfucker. I grimace as I quickly climb to my feet, dusting myself off. My eyes meet Brett’s, shooting him a warning glare, which he disregards, as I jerk the desk back toward me with more force than necessary.
After sitting down, I slide down into the seat as far as I can go, and hope it gets the heat off my back—only, it doesn’t. It ends up on the side of my neck. “Pretty little lace number you have on.”
“Hope you got your fill, because that’s the last time you’ll ever see it,” I grind out, gathering my tablet, notebook, and pen from my bag.
“Keep telling yourself that, brat.”
Ugh. He’s insufferable. The king of pigs. He thinks his shit don’t stink, but fails to realize, he’s just like everyone else. And this bullying—all because I don’t want to sleep with him?—is not going to get him what he wants. It will only make me despise him more.
I’d like to know what the hell his problem is. As far as I know, I haven’t done a single thing to any of them. Yes, I rebuffed their advances—mostly Brett’s. However, that doesn’t give someone the right to verbally/physically dish shit out on them. No means no; it doesn’t matter what society you believe you live in.
“Quit calling me brat,” I say under my breath, already tuning into what the teacher, Mr. Robinson, is now chattering on about.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t catch what he says. I couldn’t ignore it even if I tried. It’s like two headlights beaming in the darkness, blinding me.
“Quit acting like you don’t want it.”
CHAPTER 5
BRETT
She’s a lovely little piece; I’ll give her that. With that round, apple ass, perky breasts, and flat toned stomach—she looks like she’s made for sin.
And, fuck me, do I want to be a sinner.
My eyes follow her every movement through the lunch line, spying as she grabs a Chicken Caesar salad, two cups of lite ranch, a water, and three packs of saltines. Fucking rabbit food. Disgusting.
There’s no way that will fill her until dinner. She also doesn’t look like the type to care about her figure, and I’m slightly disappointed in seeing her food choice. She needs a nice shot of protein to go with that meal, and I have just the thing to give it to her.
“Ten says I’ll touch a cheek before the day is out,” I murmur, smirking when she catches my eyes and narrows hers. I damn near shiver from the heat in her gaze. Fuck, that shit is better than a line of coke and two girls sucking my cock at once.
“Top or bottom?” Chaz whispers in return, eyes lighting up at the prospect of a wager.
“Bottom, of course.” I shovel a forkful of Nini Bellini into my mouth, chewing slowly.
Dorran reclines back in his chair, smiling lazily. “You’re on, and I’ll see your ten and raise you five that she slaps the shit out of you.”
Possibly. But when I grab a handful of her ass, I won’t even really care. I’m chomping at the bit to feel those lacy panties I spied earlier against the palm of my hand; grip her silky smooth, fat ass, groaning as it gives away under the pressure of my touch.
I’d bet she would look so fucking gorgeous spread out and flush, burning with desire. She’s already damn near irresistible, but in the throes of passion—I’d tap out in a heartbeat.
Without breaking eye contact on my brat, I lazily hold my hand out for Dorran’s. He chokes on his spit, probably thinking I wouldn’t take the bet, then schools himself before clasping my hand in his. Gripping tightly, I give her a once over, before turning my attention toward him, smiling devilishly.
“You’re on, D.”
“You can’t push me out of this wager, pricks,” Chaz scolds, shoving his way between the two of us playfully, before sitting back down in his seat.
At that moment, Patricia and the rest of the ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’s’ start maneuvering their way through the cafeteria. The sea of students part to make way for them. It’s hard to hide my utter disgust, knowing those four girls deserve nothing but indifference, not respect. How can you respect someone that sells themselves so easily?
A DLG is a particular group of females I wish I didn’t have to converse with. They’re called that because anytime a DLG asks for something, they get it. Just like if a daddy’s little girl asks her father for something, she gets it. They’re an unstoppable force here at RPA and there are rumors that they belong to us. That couldn’t be further from the truth. They can do whatever the fuck they feel like doing, and the guys and I won’t care one bit.
It takes all I have not to groan out loud when they come to a stop in front of us. Patricia, Trish for short, has been fucking clingy lately, and that’s not exactly my scene. I told her what we were from the beginning, but she still thinks she has this idiotic claim over me.
“Hey, baby,” she coos.
I shove my food away when I feel the bile start to rise to the base of my throat. She must take that as an invitation, because she skitters on her ‘non-regulation’ four-inch heels and rounds the table to sit in my lap. My cock is still hard from thinking about my earlier interaction with my brat, and Patricia must think it’s for her, because the money-hungry bitch imperceptibly gyrates her ass against my crotch.
There are some days I wish I didn’t have to see any of the DLG’s, let alone converse with them. But that’s not how life goes, I’m afraid. It’s a public image we must portray while here at RPA, and if it got back to Pop’s what I was doing, he’d probably keel over.
“Trish,” I say in warning, but that doesn’t stop her. It takes me putting my hands on her hips right at the same time my little brat looks back in our direction to stop her.
We meet eyes. Hers flicks to my hands, back to my face, then to Patricia’s face. Then, the little devil does something I never expected in a million years. She smirks, as if pleased with the turn of events.
Narrowing my eyes at her, that only makes her smirk turn into a full-fledge smile. One that lights up the entire motherfucking room. If I were a sappy bastard, I might actually fawn over the way her plump, juicy lips curve upward, showing off her pearly white teeth. But considering I’m the devil’s spawn, I think I’ll manage to wrap this up before it gets out of control. The only reaction that little brat is going to get out of me is my cock in one of her various holes.
“Baby, it’s been weeks since you came to see me,” Patricia coos in my ear, but it’s not her soft words or insinuation that has my cock jerking in my pants. It’s the way brat licks her lips as she eyes me, like she wants a taste but she’s not sure if the threat of ingesting poison is worth it.
“Not tonight.”
“But—”
Raking my fingers into her long, platinum strands, I grip her tightly at the base of her neck and tilt her head toward the side. My eyes stay on brat the entire time, relishing in the way her eyes heat for a completely different reason when my lips trail up the side of Trish’s neck. She looks like she can bite a nail in two; a blush stealing across her chest and neck as her brows shunt inward.
My little brat is jealous. Hmm, I can work with this, I think to myself, trailing my tongue against the sensitive part of Trish’s ear. I can vaguely hear Patricia groaning as she slowly rocks herself on my lap, but I pay attention to nothing she offers. She’s old news. A person can only try to blackmail me into a more permanent relationship once, because after that, you’re dead to me; just another hole to lose myself in until I’m through with you.
I’m severely over Trish’s antics, and I found my next meal the moment she got out of that limo and blind-sided
me. I knew Ariyal was transferring from New Jersey, because I know everything that happens at this school. But I didn’t know just how interested I’d be until I saw her. After everything the headmaster told me when I fucked her last week against her desk, I thought I’d be trying a different tactic at getting brat to leave the school.
But now, I want her to stay. I’m ravenous for a taste, and I won’t be satisfied until my little plaything is down on her knees, taking my cock like a champ.
“You’re playing with fire,” Chaz says, as September Vale and Brittani York settle into the two chairs beside him. I don’t get how those two girls don’t fight over him. There’s only enough dick for one at a time, and I’m beside myself on how they can sheathe their claws long enough to get off.
“She’s going to knee him in the dick if he keeps it up,” Dorran spits out before Katarina grips the side of his face and pushes her tongue into his mouth. Then, groans and moans ensue as he gets lost in his current piece’s ravenous cavern.
“Knee who in the dick?” Trish asks, panting.
“Your boy toy,” Chaz supplies. I turn a stern set of eyes on him, but he disregards my glare and allows my secret to hit the table in front of us. “He has the hots for the new girl.” Yeah, and I’m not the only one, either.
Goddamn him. He knows how Trish can get if she thinks someone is closing in on me. She’s ruthless, damn near insatiable for their blood until they tuck their tail and run far, far away. All she has to have is an insinuation that someone is interested, and the claws come out, swiping at her prey until they’re bloodied and battered on the floor. Doesn’t matter if I’m not hers to fight for or not. She still believes whatever lies our parents are feeding her.
“No, Trish,” I growl, which has her turning in my lap, spitting fire from her eyes.
“No, what?”
My eyes meet hers, challengingly. “Touch her and you’re done.”
The smile she gives me in return, while more of a sneer, doesn’t settle well with me. I have known Trish to get things ‘handled’ without lifting a finger. It’s why she’s the leader of the DLG’s. Because just like me, she gets anything she wants. But she’s more deadly because she doesn’t even have to ask for it.
Now, because of Chaz, her sights are set on brat. And you know what, no one has the right to push her to the brink of insanity except myself, Chaz, and Dorran.
That will not change anytime soon. I’ve got brat in my sights, and I won’t rest until I use every filthy inch of her for my pleasure before I toss her to the side.
CHAPTER 6
“What. The. Fuck?”
I can’t stop my jaw from falling open at the sight in front of me. In bright, cherry red lipstick is the word ‘whore’ written on my dorm room. Not only that, but there are dozens of panties, condoms (some used and some new) strung up all over, so much so I can’t even insert the key in my doorknob without risking some kind of infection. Fuck, I’m actually scared to touch anything hanging from my door.
I’d also like to know where they get the idea that I’m a whore. I gave no one the impression I spread my legs for anyone, let alone someone from this school.
It takes everything not to beat down Brett’s door. I can’t really explain it, but I feel like he had something to do with this. He’s been pursuing me nonstop since I got here yesterday evening, and this little ‘bullying’ tactic has his name all over it.
Huffing, I square my shoulders, preparing to risk contamination, but a voice at the end of the hallway stops me before I can do anything. Turning, I see Dorran leaning against the wall, staring a hole right through me. He has an unlit cigarette hanging precariously from the corner of his mouth, and the sight does strange things to my insides. I’ve never been much on the cancer sticks, but he makes it looks kind of hot.
“What?” I all but growl.
He smiles, holding the cigarette between his teeth. It’s unlike the smirk that usually pops up on Brett’s face. This is warm, comforting—until he takes the cigarette out of his mouth and opens it again. “You should have expected something like this would happen.”
I jerk back, appalled. “You make it sound like this is my fault.”
“Isn’t it?” He pushes away from the wall, strutting toward me.
Out of all three of them, Dorran is the one I can half-way stand. He hasn’t outwardly done anything to me; he hasn’t even said a word in my direction. But if he thinks this is my fault, he’s sorely mistaken. I’ve done nothing except exist and people are already out for my blood. This is absurd.
“No, it isn’t.” I want to be petty. I want to stomp my foot and demand all of them leave me the fuck alone. Just because I refuted Brett’s advances does not mean I deserve anyone’s ire. I’m just here surviving like all of them.
This is another fucked up reason I need to get out of this school.
“Brett is interested. You said no. Now the DLG’s are out to get you.” His smile turns up a notch, and I try to fight the fluttering of butterflies in my stomach when I take notice.
“So that gives them the right to what … bully me?” I inquire, cocking a brow. “That’s kind of pathetic.”
He shrugs. “Pathetic, but very effective.”
“I’m still not sleeping with him.”
It’s like talking to a brick wall, apparently. Because the only thing Dorran does is clean off my door, like the gentleman he isn’t, and tosses everything onto the ground by my feet. He says nothing, merely smiles that secretive smile of his, before tipping his head forward and walking down the hall.
The tension between us is palpable, and I know it wasn’t the good kind. He’s loyal to his friends, so why should be give a flick about me. The only thing he cares about is keeping everything as it’s supposed to be, and that includes getting Brett what he wants.
Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not going to happen. Some guy demanding I sleep with him isn’t exactly a turn on. Yes, the broodiness and dominance is hot, but finding something hot enough to turn you on is a completely different story.
You know, if he’d kept his mouth shut, I’d probably go there with him. He’s beautiful enough, and something tells me he’s packing some serious heat between his legs. But once more, the mouth of the man ruined his chances. It’d take a lot to get me into bed with him. I’m talking, life or death scenario here.
I watch as Dorran produces a key, but then something comes to mind, and I can’t stop myself from voicing it. “Hey, how did they get in here? The only people who have a keycard are the people who dorm in the building.”
He smiles softly, then knocks me for a loop. “I let them in, of course.”
Oh, of course, because it’s not terrible to watch some pathetic assholes vandalize someone’s door. “Seriously?”
He widens his eyes comically, then whispers, “Was I not supposed to?” Then he smirks—one of those infamous asshole smirks and disappears through his door.
Yeah, I don’t like Dorran. In fact, I’d probably fuck Chaz before I would Brett or Dorran. The assholes.
Growling softly, I stick my key in the door and twist. A crunching sound ensues, which has my head tilting to the side in confusion. That’s weird, I think just as I open the door.
However, I find out all too soon what that crunching sound was. Instantly, I’m drenched, and a large tin object falls atop my head. Disoriented, I reach out to grab the doorjamb, but instead of catching it, I miss. A scream releases from my lips as I trip, then tumble down the three steps into the living room, my body splaying across the hardwood floor indecently.
Flipping onto my back, I see the contraption hanging above the door. My heart stalls when I see it’s a magenta hue as the excess water drips onto the now-stained welcome mat.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I whisper, scrambling to my feet.
I slip and slide on the offending liquid, running to the stairs, I take them to my second floor two at a time. When I reach the landing, I shove open the bathroom door, and my eyes automatically
begin watering as I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
It was dye in a bucket full of water. And from the looks of it, it had to be that Splat dye you can purchase from a convenience store or something. Because that dye works fast and is a bitch to get off your skin. Trust me, I had to shave my entire head when I was twelve because it fried my hair and would not go away.
The natural streaks in my hair are now tinted various shades of pink. My skin looks like a lobster just getting out of a rolling boil, red and flush. My shirt isn’t necessarily ruined because it’s already a crimson color, but that doesn’t mean my stockings aren’t.
I’m one big mess.
Without another thought, I hurry and strip down and get into the shower. This needs to come off right now, and if I wait another moment, it’ll take longer to get it off—if I can. I take some kind of fancy bath wash Laura bought me and my loofa. It smells divine as I uncap it. Kind of some type of crisp floral fragrance, not too strong or too soft. It’s just right.
Quickly turning on the water, I don’t wait for it to heat. I lather myself up, scrubbing until I’m unsure if my skin is red because of the dye or if it’s raw from my incessant scrubbing. Gritting my teeth, I hold my arm under the spray, seeing it still pigmented with the dye, even after washing off the body wash. Tears prick the corner of my eyes. I’m going to get so much hell for this tomorrow. No one will allow me a moment of reprieve, because they’re all bloodthirsty assholes.
“They all have the goddamn money in the world, and they spend it like this,” I huff out.
Rubbing my entire body, I work and work and work, trying to get the pigment to lift from my skin. But it’s no use, it’s not going anywhere. I’ll have a light dusting of pink highlighting my skin, and will continue to do so until it wears off by itself.
It disgusts me that someone did this because they thought I was closing in on their man. I’m not; have no reason to. The only reason I’m even at this school is because of my father, and now, I’m silently cursing him under my breath because none of this would have happened had he just left me in New Jersey like I wanted.
Little Plaything: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 1) Page 4