Dirty Little Secret: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 3)

by Belladona Cunning

  Chaz’s fingers wrap around my wrists and shoves my arms above my head on the bed. The action brings our bodies closer together, causing my nipples to graze his chest with each inhale and exhale. His scent assaults my senses, and it hits me right between the thighs.

  I need to get him off me. My mind is whirling in a million directions, but that seems to be the only thing it can settle on.

  “Get off of me. Now.” My voice comes out raspy and pathetic, like I want him to do the opposite.

  “Is that what you really want, princess?” he seduces, his warm breath wisping across my face. A tingle shoots up my spine, causing me to shiver against him. And when he leans forward and presses his lips against the side of my face, I can feel his smile against my heated skin. “Mm, I can make you feel so good.” He rubs against me once more, this time in a slow, torturous pace.

  My body heats to a new degree of wanton, the aching in my apex of my thighs worsening. A person can hate someone with every inch of their being, but that doesn’t mean their body won’t respond to them.

  Chaz, Dorran, and Brett know my body better than I do. They can play it like a finely tuned instrument, making it strum a beautiful tune for all to hear. They wreck me, but at the same time, use their strengths to put me back together. My mind cracks a little more when my body betrays me like this, because I desperately don’t want to react to them this way.

  Frustration digs deeper inside me the longer Chaz kisses up and down my neck. It festers like an open wound when his hand trails up my side and envelops my breasts in his warm, masculine hand. When he squeezes my breast just right, pinching and strumming my nipple through my bra, my hips thrust up off the bed.

  His lips run up along the side of my neck, kissing and sucking—driving me absolutely insane. Tears burn the back of my eyes when I feel, with every passing second, my body giving up the fight, even while my mind still rages on.

  This is what happens when you grow up starved for affection. A part of your mind latches onto any form of affection, no matter how skewed or perverted it is, and thrives off it. It’s like liquid cocaine entering your system, is the best I can describe. It makes you feel like you’re floating in the clouds, warm and cozy, rather than with both your feet on the ground in nothing but the cold and miserable. At least, that’s what it feels to me.

  For years, I’ve been without. My mother, while she tried to do her best, didn’t give me exactly what I needed. I loved her, yes, but I needed more. I got a brief taste of that with Trevor before I was jerked away by my father, then thrust into this world of deceit and power. But even now, being trapped under Chaz, I can honestly say that nothing Trevor did made me feel like … this.

  I thought it was a fluke with Brett, but I can see now that it isn’t. That scares me more than the thought of my outcome here at Kingston Manor.

  “Please,” I choke out, nearing my breaking point.

  Being starved for affection sucks. That’s why I don’t like being touched. Because if I don’t have something to begin with, I can’t miss it when it’s gone. And everyone leaves you eventually, so it’s better never to get use to something in the first place.

  Needing something makes you weak, so I’d rather have nothing than need everything from these three guys.

  I pushed it earlier with Dorran, but I knew what I was doing. I was ready for the mental backlash.

  He also didn’t come at me, trying to seduce me out of my pants, either. I went for him, trying to get him to break. But I should have known better. Dorran, if anything, is someone that doesn’t crack easily. He’s a hardass. At least, in front of his friends he is. When he’s by himself, that’s when his demons rise to the surface, making him vulnerable and weak.

  “Fuck. You sound so goddamn hot when you beg,” Chaz growls, sucking on the side of my neck at the same time he thrusts against me. “Do it again.”

  I’m not begging for it in the way he thinks I am, but to make him get off me before I do something I’ll regret. And I know I will. No matter how much affection I crave, it’s not enough to make doing anything with any of them worth it.

  His painfully hard cock rubbing against my aching pussy is almost too much. It feels like I’ve put my fingers into a light socket, as tiny little zaps blast through my body. My pelvis thrusts up, seemingly of its own accord, rubbing against Chaz’s clothed erection.

  He rips himself away from me, and nearly rips my shirt in two when he jerks it up and over my head. He comes back down on top of me, pushing my breasts together. The muscles in his arms tighten and bunch, as he presses his face into my cleavage, licking and sucking on my skin.

  “W-We need to—” A guttural moan slices through the air as he pulls down a cup of my bra, his gorgeously, sinful lips fastening around one pert nipple. Twirling his tongue, I can’t stop my hands from wrapping around his neck, crying out when he gently rolls my hard-as-fuck nipple between his teeth, forcing my back off the mattress. “Oh, fuck!”

  “Come on, baby girl,” Chaz seduces against my breasts. “Give in to me.”

  With his thrusting, our panting, and his magical tongue and lips, I’m nearly done for. It feels so erotic and forbidden, causing my yearning to shoot through the roof. I’m twisting and turning, writhing underneath his heavy body, completely out of my mind with desire.

  Hands travel.

  Jeans unsnap and unzip.

  Lips wander.

  Lips suck.

  Teeth nibble and bite.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cry out when Chaz’s hand disappears into my jeans, tunneling underneath my silk thong, to settle between my wet folds.

  My mind is mush, and I know there’s something that I need to do, but right now, I just can’t seem to compute that to my body. It feels too good, almost as good as it did with the first asshole. Chaz sparks a fire inside me that blazes like the inferno of Hell.

  Slamming his lips down on mine, I nearly inhale his lips as we kiss and writhe against one another. His fingers deftly circle my clit, the feeling causing my nails to clamp down on shoulders. He growls into my mouth as I continue to assault his back, the guttural sound spurring me on, even more so when his fingers start flicking my clit with skillful, strategic movements.

  I’m so fucking close. Moaning into his mouth, I can’t stop the swivel of my hips, trying to help him along in giving me that orgasm I’m so desperate for.

  We’re so lost in each other that we don’t even hear the door opening until someone growls out his name.

  “Master Chaz, you are requested in the drawing room, sir,” Joaquin’s butler sneers, his abrupt arrival causing me to shriek and slap at Chaz’s shoulders, instead of clawing them.

  Chaz immediately stops what he’s doing, looking back over his shoulder. I could cry because I was so close. After the shit Dorran did, and now Chaz? The fuck, man.

  “If you value your life, I suggest you close that goddamn door,” he threatens, the anger underlying his words making me even hotter.

  I expect the butler to do as he says, but instead, he stands there, as if he’s waiting for something. I know what this means before my eyes even meet Chaz’s.

  He’s going to leave me here, hurting from being so close to the finish line and not getting to finish. I can’t do it myself, because some sick and twisted part of me won’t allow it. I don’t know what it is, but I wish I could. Because this means I now have to lie here for the rest of the night, or God knows how long, and hold in my frustration.

  The moment Chaz pulls away, peering down at me, I know. He’s going to leave, probably not to come back, and I’m going to be left here not being able to tend to mess he created.

  “Don’t leave me like this,” I whimper, hating myself for showing that ounce of vulnerability.

  Chaz eyes sweep across my face, sadness beginning to mar his features. “I—”

  “Your visitor will not wait, Master Chaz.” That dirty old bastard will be first on my list.

  Growling in the back of his throat, he look
s over his shoulder, tossing out, “I’m fucking coming.”

  Real, genuine tears prick at the corner of my eyes as my head shunts back against the pillow. Chaz seems to notice that when he brings his attention back to me, face softening. But I’m not going to fall for it. If he actually cared, then he wouldn’t be contemplating leaving right in the middle of getting me off.

  Clearing my throat, I bite down on my bottom lip, gritting out, “If you would be so kind as to remove your hand from my pants, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

  It’s like he comes to the realization with a jolt, removing his hand faster than the speed of light. But not before brushing his fingers against my aching sex, making me whimper in pain. His eyes dilate with longing when they fall back on mine, but it’s no use.

  Actually, now that the sexual haze isn’t so powerful and I’m able to think, I could kiss the man that interrupted us. I may be starved for affection, so much so, I succumb to the touch from a man that’s wrong for me, but now I won’t have to regret it. We did nothing to regret.

  “Um, yeah, sure.”

  In a hurry, he sits back on his haunches. Something I didn’t ask him to do, but he did anyway. Without thinking, I scramble away from him and into the corner. I pull my legs up into my chest, cringing when they force friction against my aching clit. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I try to hide my upper body from the guy standing at the door and succeed.

  At least, I think I succeed, until I flick my eyes in his direction. Air freezes in my lungs when I see him eating me alive with half-mast, bedroom eyes. That leering look forces me to make myself appear smaller, tightening my grip around my legs, and then finally, turning my head in the opposite direction to stare at the wall as I lay my head down on my knees.

  “Brat?”

  I ignore his soft, enthralling voice, and the way his proximity pokes at my senses. Even when I feel the bed dip and his fingers sift through my hair, as if trying to console a child, I don’t entertain his existence.

  Things went too far. Again. Almost to the point where nothing could be fixed. Because the second Chaz and I get together, that’d be the end of it. He’d expect to be allowed to any time he wanted to get off, regardless how I felt in the situation.

  “Master Chaz,” the butler’s nasally voice filters through the air once more, chastising him for taking too long.

  With a sigh, his fingers leave my hair. A grunt takes him from my bed as he gets to his feet. The swish of his shirt going back over his head, and the sound of his zipper, is the last thing I hear before the door slams shut behind both of them.

  And this is the only time I’ll allow the tears to fall. My insides are twisted into knots of bitter arousal and lust.

  The motherfucker who ever said delayed gratification was all the rage can go straight to hell.

  CHAPTER 7

  I’m without my shirt, and my pants are unzipped and unbuttoned, when I hear a loud bang on the door. It blares a sound of finality, shortly before it swings open, bringing with it a blast of cool air conditioning. The sound forces my bleary, red-rimmed eyes to swing in its direction.

  “You look like shit,” Trevor spouts out.

  I scoff. “You would to if—”

  Goddammit, I need to get a hold of myself. Lying on this mattress and doing nothing is getting me nowhere. Jesus, what Dorran did to me was worse than what Chaz did. It’s the start of a new week, and I’ve been holed up in my room ever since the night after we got here. I don’t eat, barely sleep, and I only wash myself off with the tiny bowl of water they provide for my hygiene every morning.

  I’m a fucking mess, and I need to snap out of it. But snapping out of it would mean that I care. And I don’t care. Least of all about those two pricks—oh, and the one standing in front of me.

  He cuts me off, glaring down at me as if I’m a filthy bug he’d rather crush under his shoe than a person under his charge. “I’m not here for you to spout anecdotes. Get dressed. You’re due for breakfast in ten minutes.”

  Groaning, I drop my head down on my upturned knees. “I’m not hungry, Trevor. You know I’ve never been a morning person.”

  “Get up and get moving,” he growls out, causing me to jerk at the aggressiveness in his voice.

  Leveling him with a glare that could kill, I spit back. “Fuck you and the horse you road in on. You’re just a babysitter. Now go the fuck away and leave me the hell alone.”

  Like the last … however many days they’ve been doing it so far.

  “I warned you the other night about doing what I order the first time, didn’t I,” Is all he says before he stalks across the room and grabs me up off the floor, throwing me over his massive shoulder.

  “What the fuck are you doing?!” I scream out, pounding my fists against his back. “I’m only half dressed! I haven’t even taken a proper shower since I got here!”

  “Should’ve thought of that sooner than giving me lip, darlin’.” Ugh. He chooses now to use the nickname he gave me in fifth fucking grade. Fucking asshole.

  “I’m not your fucking darlin’.”

  Flailing around probably won’t do a bit of good because he’s built like a fucking tank, but it’s all I got. The training they must have made him do has turned him into a massive machine of strength and agility. The way he came across that room like it was nothing, barely making a sound, should terrify a person. It doesn’t me, because deep down I know he’d never hurt me.

  At least, I don’t think he would. It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him, and somewhere, in that timeframe, his entire attitude towards me seems to have shifted. Don’t know why or how, but it’s not something that makes sense to me.

  When I left New Jersey, we were on amicable terms. He understood that I had no choice over the matter, unless I wanted to run away and hide out until my eighteenth birthday, before I could come back to him. I’d be me and the streets for as many months as I’ve been with these three assholes of mine.

  If he understood it then, why is he acting this way now? Why is he even here, in Kingston Manor, assigned to be my babysitter?

  Joaquin is up to something, and I need to figure out what that is. Money can buy a lot of things, even secrets. But the only thing it can’t buy is me. I am not the type of person that relies on money to survive. Give me a cardboard box and a pack of beef jerky, and I can turn that into a house most homeless would dream of and still eat good for two nights straight. I’ve done it before when I was younger. I had to eat somehow, and staying at the apartment, surrounded by a bunch of nothings that wouldn’t help you if you were on fire, I had to do things for myself.

  On those days, I had to make do, because I would travel two or three counties away just to find a bit of stuff to get me through until my mother came home from her ‘glamorous’ job. Now that I know what she was doing, I can safely say it was not glamorous.

  Trevor jogging down the stairs pulls me from my thoughts. My hipbones dig into his shoulder as the arm around my thighs inappropriately tightens. “Motherfuck. I can walk on my own, you know.”

  “Shut up, woman,” he growls, shaking me.

  Growling under my breath, I can see that this banter is getting me nowhere. Even if it was, it’s not like Trevor is going to put me down and allow me to get ready.

  Yeah, I’m going to have to go into that dining room, for the first time since coming here, in just my bra with my pants. That’s not even the worst part, either. My pants are unbuttoned and unzipped, and I still feel slick with last night’s arousal. Lucky me.

  “You’re an asshole. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  I don’t expect him to answer me, because, let’s face it, the Kingston family corrupted him. But surprisingly, when we reach the front foyer, he does, but what he says has my heart lurching in my chest from buried emotions.

  “You. All the time.” He cuts around the corner and jogs down the stairs without thinking twice. “Just like then, I don’t give a shit.”

  Planting my elbow on hi
s back, I rest my chin in my hand and just settle in for the ride. Be kind of stupid to keep fighting when it’s meaningless. He’s about three times my size and built like a tank—much bigger than the assholes I have to call master.

  Going through, what should be classified as a maze, we finally come to a stop. With disinterest, I peer back over my shoulder, instantly widening my eyes at the sight, craning my head up and up until I finally see the top of a set of double doors.

  They’re monstrous, in length and width, spreading, what has to be, around fifteen feet tall and six to eight feet wide. They look to be from the Victorian era, with little embellishments around the trim and interior where stained glass should go. The handles are something of rare design, intricately woven together with twists of metal, too petite, to be of strong nature.

  “How can such beautiful things belong to such monsters?” I murmur to myself, then bite my bottom lip as Trevor’s hold on me tightens, his fingers slipping and digging into my inner thigh to the point of pain.

  Here simply touch brings about a memory from very long ago. A first of many that used to help me get through all the times with the guys, but now I’m sad to have it ruined by the reality I’m facing.

  A time where men didn’t always use me for some kind of influential gain. At least, they didn’t to my knowledge at the time.

  “T-Trevor?” I stutter, licking my bottom lip.

  My eyes gaze down at his lips hungrily— lips burning for a taste of his masculine sweetness. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man: strong, fiercely protective, soft as well as hard, sweet.

  “Darlin’,” he whispers with so much emotion in his voice. It comes out deeper, rawer than anything I’ve heard before.

  “I, um …” I take my bottom lip between my teeth, almost making it raw to the touch, when the room brightens from a clap of lightning, showing me the emotions resting on his breathtaking face. “God,” I whisper breathlessly, unwrapping my arms from around his neck, cupping his cheeks between my hands. “Can I—Can we—”