Tease Me, Baby: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 2)

by Belladona Cunning

  “Thank you.” I rise onto my toes and press my lips against his. This time, he doesn’t deepen our connection, he merely skates his lips across mine in a dance of sensuality.

  “No need to thank me, little mouse. Everything I said is true,” he whispers against my lips when we break apart. My blush deepens, spreading down onto my chest.

  Without thought, I trail my finger down the side of his face. My stomach tightens when he leans into my touch, almost unknowingly, like he’s seeking it out. It feels good to be here with him. It feels right.

  I give him a megawatt smile that seems to brighten his face, then walk past him to head to his car. I laugh under my breath as I watch all three of the guys try to squeeze into his car. They each have their own vehicles, I assume, but they all enjoy riding with Callum. Probably makes them feel closer, and I dare to admit, it does me.

  I hand over my keys to Callum so he can lock my door, and when I’m about to take them back, I feel a slight buzzing in my clutch. It continues to buzz, and then I know it must be my father. He’s probably a little on edge knowing I will arrive with all four guys.

  But when I pull it out, the smile drains from my face. It causes Callum to stop his advancement toward his car, making him backtrack to me. “Who is it?”

  I sigh. “The devil.”

  Shaking his head, he looks out across the street, eyes shining with hatred as his jaw clenches tightly. “Ignore her.” He brings his eyes back to mine, but we both know I can’t. She has custody of me for another week, and if I don’t play by her rules, it will be a week of Hell.

  But damn, the moment I turn eighteen, it will be paradise. I will kick her ass from here to the side of the street and laugh when it’s her picking herself up off the ground.

  “I’ll be along in a minute. Promise.”

  Nodding, he makes his way toward his car. When he reaches it, he looks back over the roof, gathering my attention. I give him a light smile, then slide my finger across the screen to answer the phone.

  “What do you want?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, brat.” Debra releases in a shrill voice.

  I roll my eyes. “Just say whatever the fuck you’re going to say and get it over with. Damn.”

  “I’ve decided you are not going to that party tonight at your fathers. If he wants you, then he can come to the house and ask me himself, not go to you.”

  I know this bitch isn’t trying to pull this right now. Not while I’m in this dress with a full face of makeup on. To. Fucking. Hell. It took me an hour just to get my hair right, and another hour to do my makeup and get dressed. There’s no way I will let her take this away from me. The only reason my father had to fight so hard to get back in contact with me is because of her in the first place. She can suck a dick.

  “I don’t give a shit what you want,” I seethe, fingers tightening around the phone. “You are not here, so you cannot fucking stop me.”

  She laughs, the sound grating against my eardrum. “All I have to do is make one call, and they will pick you up and hold you until I’m back in town, Jessalyn. Don’t push me. I own your ass for the next week, and I will get my worth out of you.”

  “I’m not your property, Debra.” I snarl, my lips pulling back away from my teeth.

  “You will march back into that house right now and stay there, do you understand? I will call the authorities if you are not home when I get there. Your father can go fuck himself. You are mine, Jessalyn, and he needs to remember that.”

  Even after the chastisement she received from Asher, she still hasn’t learned a damn thing. For some time following their encounter, she stayed to herself. But I knew it was too good to be true, she always likes to strike while you least expect it. Only now, she can’t do that physically. So, she’s trying to take something else from me—my freedom.

  I’ve had enough of her shit. There will be no way I will be able to look at her, let alone tolerate her, if she gets her way. One week is a long time in my house, and a piece of paper doesn’t make the rules for anyone. She may hold that over my father’s head, but she won’t hold it over mine.

  A custody paper is just that—it lets you know who it is you will live with full-time. Not that you can’t see your other parent if you want to. I’m seventeen, about to be eighteen, I can see whoever I damn well please.

  My anger reaches a fever pitch. “I will go to my father’s tonight. So, you, Debra, can suck a big dick and get laid. Maybe if you did, you’d actually pull out the stick that’s shoved up your ass, so you won’t be so miserable.”

  Her growl echoes through the line. “Get your insolent ass back into that house right now. I’m not playing, Jessalyn Marie Savoy! You will do as I say or so help me God, I’ll make your life a living Hell. You think that scar on your head is bad, just wait. Do as I say, and maybe, I will be lenient on you.”

  My entire body shakes with adrenaline and anger. My teeth clench together so tightly, I’m half scared they will crack under the pressure. Debra knows I’m not scared of her, that I’m just biding my time until I have free rein to breathe Hell down on her. You would think she’d consider that, but this is Debra Savoy we’re talking about. That bitch isn’t too smart to begin with.

  “I hate you!” I scream, my hand holding the phone so tightly that I hear it crack. “I hope you die and rot you crusty old cunt!”

  Within seconds, the doors to Callum’s car are being shoved open. Four giant guys are bounding toward me, but the only thing I can do is bend over as I allow all the grief and anger fuel my words and actions. I hope she dies. I would never want to wish that on another living soul as long as I live, but I do her.

  She deserves it. Every fucking thing she will get, she’s earned it. And I hope and pray to God I’m there for a front seat view.

  “You just wait until I get home you piece of shit! I’ll make you rethink speaking to me like that.”

  “And, like I said, Debra Savoy, I hope you fucking die. I’ll happily dance on your goddamn grave, bitch!”

  CHAPTER 28

  My body buzzes with adrenaline from the phone call as we pull up to a wrought-iron gate. I press my face up against the window, spying intricate letters woven within the bars of the impressively tall gate to spell out my last name. Two brick columns stand on either side, light in color, which then connect to more wrought-iron fencing. It seems to go around the entire property, giving the impression of keeping something or someone out.

  “Wow.” My eyes widen at the sight in front of me.

  “You should see it from the inside,” Callum retorts, the hand he has on my thigh tightening ever so slightly.

  It’s hard, but I break eye contact with my father’s new “estate,” bringing my eyes to him in the driver’s seat. “You’ve been here before?”

  It’s Asher who speaks up, instead of Callum. “We all have. Our parents work together.”

  “Shut up, Ash!” Ellis fumes quietly.

  Furrowing my brows, I shift around in my seat until my eyes rest on Ellis. “What’s he talking about?”

  No one says a word. Not even a fissure of a peep. Instead, they pretend as if I didn’t just ask that question, peering out of the car on either side. The only one that can’t divert his gaze is Asher, and that’s because he’s sitting in the middle. When I try to make eye contact with him, he stares straight ahead as if he’s looking right through me.

  There’s something fishy going on here, and I intend to find out what it is. Enough with the lies, half-truths, and diversions. No one will get me off the scent now. I’m like a bloodhound, sniffing and tracking—eventually, I’ll find what I’m looking for. They might as well tell me what’s going on now.

  I flop back into my seat, eyes beaming into the side of Callum’s head. His features are stiff, closed off. “What is he talking about, Cal?”

  He licks his lips, then opens his mouth—only, nothing comes out. He tries several times, even when the gate magically opens and we’re on our way through. H
e’s having a hard time with this, but that doesn’t negate the fact that they know something I don’t.

  I get it—people want to have secrets. Everyone should be able to have that right. But if it pertains to me, which I have a sneaky suspicion it does, then I should know about it. Every guy in this car knows I hate being blindsided by something monumental.

  “Why do I feel this is something that will piss me off?” I ask aloud not to anyone in particular.

  Quinn sighs from the back seat, shifting. “That’s because it might.”

  Exhaling, I lean back. I can’t exactly express what I’m feeling in this moment, but if I had to, it’s like the pain I have when I’m hurting. Not from something physical, but emotional.

  The four guys I’ve grown closer to over the last six months have a secret, and that secret involves me.

  “Just forget about it.” I know I won’t get anywhere with them. Plus, it isn’t something to get to upset over. My father wouldn’t intentionally hurt me again, not after the way I reacted when he showed up out of the blue. He will take into account that I don’t like surprises, whether good or bad. Hopefully. I like consistency; a sure thing with no hiccups of any sort.

  “We’re not keeping it from you to hurt you, little mouse.” Sure, Cal. Sure you’re not.

  I am already vulnerable from the phone call earlier. I’m already on edge, clambering to keep my sanity in check over the texts from the man who took so much from me. With all of that and the bullying added on top, it feels like I’m almost to the point of bursting. I can act strong all I want, but eventually, the strong do fall. When that happens, I will be weaker than ever before.

  I say nothing, merely keep my eyes trained out of the passenger side window. Tense silence fills the interior, so thick you can cut it with a knife. I practically feel the nervous energy wafting off the guys in droves, and it’s almost stifling being in their proximity.

  Tonight, was supposed to be fun. I was going to come out with my guys, dance, eat, maybe get a little touchy-feely, then skedaddle back to one of their houses for a nightcap with all four of them. It wasn’t supposed to be heavy, almost unbearable. And we haven’t even made it into the house yet, we’re still driving down the extremely long driveway.

  As the car makes it through what seems like miles of trees, the house comes into view in the distance. Or, should I say mansion? This is no house, it’s not even a home—it looks like a museum from the outside with its vast expanse of immaculate lawn sitting right in front of it. It’s landscaped to perfection, and seeing it in all its splendor, causes a knot of dread to tighten in the pit of my stomach.

  How can he afford this place?

  My eyes rise to the massive home in front of me, spying at least three levels of lavish opulence. Columns rise from the foundation of brick and mortar on either side of the massive front door. It looks like it’s holding up the roof of the awning we will drive under.

  Vines encase one side of the house, tangling and clinging to the building as if it’s a lifeline. Windows in various sizes—some small, medium, large, and larger—give the home a visage of openness that doesn’t really belong. At least, in my opinion. It’s a fortress behind a giant encasement of wrought-iron and brick; there’s nothing open about it.

  It’s regal in appearance, yet still gives a person an “old plantation” vibe at the same time. I’d love it if it weren’t for the fact this house is clearly all for show—the bigger it is, the more of a facade my father is trying to live. My father doesn’t like this type of lavishness, which is the main reason we’ve been stuck in the suburb since before I was born.

  This mansion is pure elegance and screams of money and power.

  But … what money?

  First, it’s the car. Now, it’s a house the size of Texas.

  What gives?

  It takes time for his inheritance to kick in and disburse, that I know, because he’s told me hundreds of times over the years. It takes at least thirty days for it to sit in the bank, then another sixty to ninety days for it to transfer to his account.

  If it were a lesser amount than he’s supposed to receive, then it would take less time. But we’re talking about millions, if not billions now, since it’s been through years of investments, IRA’s, and savings accounts that accrue interest monthly.

  He just turned forty-five within days of showing back up at my school. His birthday is a few weeks before mine, and since the beginning of this year, we’ve both been talking about how we will go through so many changes in such a short amount of time. Him getting his inheritance and being able to invest it into his business. Me, turning eighteen and scouting for colleges to go to next fall.

  But this? This is not what I had in mind when we had those fleeting conversations back in early spring.

  There is no way he should have any of this.

  The fancy house, luxurious car, gardens, a private entrance—a fucking personal driver.

  This is not the man I know. Because the man I know would not flash money around like this, even if he had a very good reason. He left me with Debra for this? I think to myself, mulling over everything that’s happened between us.

  A prickle of irritation peeks through to the surface. It festers, continuing to grow to insurmountable proportions as we come to a rolling stop under the awning. A man rushes to my door, opening it for me, then holds out his hand to help me from the car. Reluctantly, I allow him to assist.

  My eyes trek over the vast mansion standing in front of me. Soon, they drift over to the large bay window setting on the East end of the house. My chest burns, cheeks heat as I spy my father inside. He’s laughing at what some man says to him, even going as far as slapping his shoulder.

  It’s different seeing him like this. So open, free. I wish I knew what that felt like. Wish I could live and not have this fear and paranoia inside of me.

  The moment I feel the heat of one of the guys behind me, I don’t turn toward him like I usually would. Instead, I keep my eyes steadfast on my father. I watch his body language, concluding this is the most open and relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

  Tears burn the back of my eyes. A hand grabs my wrist, weaving my arm through theirs. Again, I say nothing. It’s all so much to take in, and knowing there are still things I’ve yet to find out, drives me insane. But then, I see something that has complete and utter horror overtaking my entire body.

  A woman. Someone who is not Debra, coming up behind my father and weaving her arm through his with ease. So, that must be Whitney. My eyes scan her from head to toe. I can already see she’s having fun with my father’s money. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, hanging down her back in luscious, classic waves. Her features are sharp, yet there’s something soft about them, too. She’s demure in appearance, but I know that could all be a facade. Most likely, it is.

  “Are you ready to go in?” I break my gaze with them, turning to look up and see it’s Quinn that holds my arm hostage.

  “No,” I reply weakly, tears dancing in my eyes.

  His eyes trail over my face, hardening within an instant. “What’s wrong?”

  I hate showing weakness. This world is not made for frail individuals. It will chew them up and spit them out, regardless of who they are and what they can bring to the table. I’ve seen it over and over, and it is what caused this hardness to encase my heart.

  That night, I was weak. With Debra, I am weak, even though I try my hardest to be strong. With the guys—I don’t even know where to begin with them. There are times I feel like the strongest person in the world, but right now, in this moment, I feel so weak, like I’m a baby crying for the first time after birth.

  Why is he trying to break me? What did I ever do to him?

  Chapter 29

  “I didn’t know she would be here.” I exhale, the tumultuous emotions swirling around inside me like a hectic storm building.

  “She’s not all that bad, sweetheart,” Quinn says, causing me to do a double take when I catch my vision going
back to them.

  “Have you already met her?”

  Casting his glance at the rest of the guys, he mutely nods. Before I can utter a retort, he’s already pulling me toward the entrance. If I was petty, I’d dig my heels into the cobblestone and refuse to go inside. I’d buck up, scream, throw a tantrum—anything to keep from heading into what feels like my doom.

  My eyes gaze over all of them, seeing their guilty, secretive expressions. “Let me guess, another secret?”

  “It’s not our place to say anything,” Quinn releases, angering me further.

  Logically, I know this. But there’s nothing rational about the way I feel right now. I feel deceived, cast aside. If they’ve met Whitney, then that means they know exactly who her son is. He could be anyone in the school, yet I wouldn’t know because I don’t know who he is. He probably laughs at me every chance he gets, wiggling his way into my father's heart, into the spot my father used to reserve for me.

  I shake my head in dismay. “A lot of things weren’t your all’s place, but you did them anyway. Remember, or do I need to give you an example?”

  I try to pull my arm out of Quinn’s hold, but he’s stronger than me. Pleading with his eyes, he’s beseeching me not to do anything. I can see it. It’s in the reflective surface of his crystal blue eyes.

  “Goddammit, Jessalyn,” he whispers low with heat. “There are just some things you need to find out for yourself. This is one of them. Trust me. Why do you think he’s having this dinner party to fucking begin with?”

  “Quinn,” Callum barks, effectively shutting Quinn down. I see it happening in real time, his eyes losing that spark of life, his features smoothing out until the blank mask falls back into place.

  Of all the nights for my father to pull something, he chooses tonight. A night that was supposed to be absolutely perfect. All that does is harden me against him more. No matter how many times we talk or text, he could have warned me she would be here. That I’d be meeting a potential stepparent. And knowing she’s here must mean that her son is here as well.