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

by Belladona Cunning

  “Mm, come all over my cock, beautiful,” he rasps, his deep, melodic words causing a shiver to work its way up my spine.

  His body and the way he can wield it to perfection is the reason I couldn’t say no to him when he burst his way inside past Trevor. I may hate him, but my body loves him.

  “Harder, Chaz.” A mixture between a mewl and whimper travels up my throat and out from between my parted lips. The delicious sounds of our coupling bounce off the walls and enter my ears, making me burn hotter and wilder for him. My nails score the skin on the back of his neck, sliding into his hair to grab ahold of for dear life.

  Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep my shit in when he’s pounding the hell out of me. Not even if that asshole, Brett, is standing there getting a show.

  “Fuck!” I scream out, tiny bursts of pleasure shooting up my spine when he starts hitting a depth that very few men have ever gone before. He’s grazing that sensitive spot deep inside that makes me crazy, delirious—I’ve only felt this feeling one other time, and that was the night I used a vibrator on myself for the first time.

  It hit that spot just right and made me squirt all over my mattress. And now Chaz is about to make me do the same thing, but this time it feels a million times better. I can feel the pressure rising to a fever pitch, and soon it’s going to release.

  “Goddamn, I can feel you squeezing me,” he groans out, latching his lips onto my neck. He kisses and sucks, traveling up and down the column of my throat, and even taking the lobe of my ear between his teeth. “Give. It. To. Me.” He finishes on a growl, the deep, husky timbre of his voice lighting a fire inside me, so much so, I feel it expand and release.

  Zaps and jolts of static electricity shoot through my body, causing it to bow in Chaz’s arms. The only thing keeping me from falling on the ground is his strength as I scream out my release, vaguely hearing Chaz’s roar of completion over the roar of blood in my ears.

  “Oh. My. Fuuuuccccck,” I release, gasping and panting for air. Sweat coats our bodies in a thin sheen of wetness, allowing our bodies to glide against one another’s easily.

  Chaz strong arms me upward, pressing our chests together. We’re both tapped for breath, sucking in as much of the sweet stuff as possible. And I can’t help the moment our eyes meet that I attack his lips with a ferocity that even surprises me.

  “Let’s do that again. Now. Later. Tomorrow.” He laughs against my lips, but even I can’t be pissed at him right now. I’m flying a high like I haven’t felt in forever, and I’ll simply die if I don’t keep feeling it over and over again.

  Chaz takes my mouth in a heated kiss, and the moment I feel his cock jerk inside me, I allow a happy sigh to slip between my lips. But the moment is ruined when I hear the other person in the room clear his throat.

  “Oh, right,” Brett speaks over the rushing beat of my heart in my eyes, like this is something that happens every day. “This is Chastity, she’s going to be your confidant of sorts while you’re here. Say hi, Chastity.”

  Horror completely overrides my senses, eyes shooting up to Chaz’s when it finally connects inside my mind. Oh. My. God. Strike me dead right now.

  “Hi!” I hear the squeak of a petite feminine voice, and automatically freeze. My whimpers of mortification can be heard throughout the entirety of my room.

  That mother-cocksucking-son of a bitch. “If you stand there and tell me there’s someone else here, I’ll cut your dick off.”

  “So feisty,” Brett jokes. “But you love my cock too much to, as you so lovely put it, ‘cut it off’. She also says you need to tap a little more to the left next time, Chaz.”

  Chaz releases a growl of frustration. His movements stop all together; his gaze burns into mine, speaking as clear as day even without him uttering a word. It’s clear he wants another round, but it’s also evident Brett is not going to let that happen. Somehow, he planned this. I just can’t prove it.

  “What do you want, motherfucker?!” Chaz explodes, twisting back to peer at him over his shoulder. “If you can’t fucking see, we’re kind of in the middle of something. So, unless you, that girl, or even the fucker in the hallway, wants my cock shoved down their throat, then you better get fucked and get the hell out of here.”

  You see, now any moment we try to make is ruined. Not only did Brett interfere, which I don’t really see as an issue because we’ve been together already, but he just had to bring that little girl up in my territory. All before I was able to get mine for the second time.

  This place is a fucking prison sentence of delayed orgasms and mouthy, brooding men.

  It’s Hell, for lack of a better word.

  “Put me down.” I huff, pushing against Chaz’ shoulder. Unsurprising, he doesn’t move, only flexes his hips, which ends with me stifling a whimper. His face jerks around towards me, eyes shining with disbelief.

  What does he want me to say—the more the merrier? Horseshit. He’s not the only one getting jipped this time, and somewhere—deep down in my ugly black heart—that makes me feel a tiny bit better.

  “It’s clear he’s not going to leave,” I grind out. “It’s also clear he brought that girl here for a reason, knowing I wouldn’t give a single fuck if it were just him.”

  After huffing his displeasure, Chaz releases me down onto my feet once more. When he makes no move to turn around and face Brett, I can only assume it’s because he doesn’t want Brett to see his hard on. However, that moment is completely blown out of the water when he leans down and picks my clothes off the floor, handing them to me.

  My mouth falls agape, and the only thing I can whispers is, “Thanks.”

  His eyes, so honest and earnest, meet mine, crinkling in a tight smile at the corners. “Anytime.”

  Huffing and puffing sounds out from behind Chaz as I hurriedly get dressed. I can’t stop the smile from finding my lips, knowing that before this I hated the ground that he walked on. However, it turned out to be the catalyst that set it all straight between Chaz and I. Who knew sex could bring two people together, making them see they’re not as terrible for each other as they believe it to be?

  I sure as fuck didn’t.

  Chaz has been an asshole to me since day one. While I’m not about to forgive him for all the shitty misdeeds he’s done in the wake of our meeting, I am woman enough to admit that he and I are similar. It took him pounding the enlightenment into me for me to see, but I saw it nonetheless.

  He and I are two sides of the same coin. He hates people coming in and changing shit; I hate people coming in a changing shit. We both hate change period. We both enjoy our privacy. We both enjoy sex. We both have a deeper meaning of the term ‘loyalty.’

  We fit like two jagged pieces to a jigsaw puzzle, it just took a lot of twisting and turning for them to fit.

  Huffing his way through dressing, Chaz finally turns toward Brett. It gives Brett the advantage to see all of me; all the way from my just-fucked hair, to the glow resting in my cheeks. He can see it all, and a sick part of me wants to revel in the knowledge that he knows he’s not the only one that’s been there. I will be the first to tell you, Chaz is a beast between the sheets. He’s freaky, kinky, and his crazy matches my level of crazy. He’s a lover that lives on the edge of sanity and insanity.

  “Brett, what do you want?” He straightens out his shirt, zipping and buttoning his pants as he pins Brett to his spot.

  Brett gives nothing away, glancing between the both of us. “We have a job to do.”

  I see Chaz go ramrod straight, eyes giving nothing away, when he murmurs, “How long?”

  “A week, maybe two.” Brett sighs, then with a flick of his wrists, pushes Chastity toward me. “Now get your shit ready, because it’s time to leave.”

  With that, and a backwards glance filled with sadness and worry, they both leave me standing in the middle of my room with Chaz’s essence trickling from my womanhood.

  And that’s the feeling I cling to—the feeling of being fu
ll, and not empty and emotionless—for the hours, days, and weeks until I see them again. Until this entire thing gets straightened out. Because I can fight until the pigs fly home, but I will get nowhere doing that.

  CHAPTER 15

  It’s been nearing three weeks now. Not two. And I’ve been looking over my shoulder daily. Almost every minute. Joaquin’s caught me off guard twice, and I’m determined not to have that happen again. The first time it did, I could swear the asshole wouldn’t stop looking at my stomach. It made me uncomfortable in my own skin, like he knew something I didn’t know.

  The second run in, he nearly caused me to take a tumble down the steps. The large set of stairs that lead from the foyer to the second floor—the one that has a landing connecting the two. Sure, it was an accident, I shrugged it off. Since Chastity never really leaves me alone except to sleep, I didn’t think it could hurt.

  Boy was I wrong.

  He cornered me this morning.

  And by cornered, I mean he actually accosted my ass, and what he said made my blood run cold. It’s something no one except one person should know about.

  “You think I didn’t know—that no one would ever tell me?” His wrinkled, old lips kiss against the side of my neck; his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against his front. It takes everything I have not to react to the bulge pressing into the small of my back.

  It takes everything I have not to react period.

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about?” My nerves are a big jumbled mess of paranoia. I know he can hear it in my voice, but I’m too fucked to care at this point.

  No man in this house is supposed to touch me without their consent. Brett will kill his father for this.

  He licks my skin, causing a wave of nausea to swirl inside my stomach. His hand treks lower and lower, until it rests along the hem of my long shirt and the top of my jeans.

  I really don’t want him touching me. I’d have all three of the guys take me at the same time, rather than being in the same room as this disgusting asshole.

  “Oh, but I think you do. And we’ll rectify that soon.”

  There’s no way he was talking about what I think he was talking about. There’s also no way he’d be that forward over something. His son, Chaz, and Dorran own me, and in this moment, I’m so glad it’s them and not Joaquin.

  If Joaquin had it his way … I can’t even bring myself to think about it.

  That’s not going to fucking happen. Not even with him taking over my ‘training’ and making me do shit his way while the boys are gone. I’ll do it, to save face with him and everyone else here since I’m outnumbered, but I refuse to keep doing it when the guys get back. Bullshit.

  “You will kneel until I say, otherwise. You will not dawdle when I leave this room, trying to see if you can find a way out. You must hold yourself like an elegant, poised individual and stay in the way your masters want you to become accustomed to. You will not …” blah, blah, blah.

  Shifting on my feet, I cross my arms and lean to one side, appearing unaffected. “When does a girl get to eat around here?”

  Joaquin’s butler—an old, garish individual—stops in the middle of his tirade, spurning me with a glare that can surely kill a murder of crows while they congregate over a rotting corpse. He’s stiff with tension. His back is ramrod straight, and there’s not a hair out of place, even with his feathers being ruffled by my outbursts.

  Just as I’m about to ask him if he got his stick sideways this morning, or if he’s fallen the rest of the way into crazy town, my entire world lights up like the fourth of July. He moves faster than the speed of light, the back of his hand slamming against the side of my face. It takes me off guard, causing me to sprawl out unattractively on the floor, my head smacking off the marble floor with a vicious smack.

  “Take your training seriously, Plaything. Do so or I will explain everything to Master Kingston, then suggest you be removed from service and thrown in the basement!” his voice booms through the sitting room; the one we’re currently utilizing to try to teach me etiquette, so I don’t displease my ‘masters.’

  I slowly gather my wits, climbing to my feet. “Basement?”

  Pain blooms against the other side of my face this time, but subconsciously I’m ready for him and it doesn’t knock me off my feet. “Were you given permission to speak?!”

  Like all victims in the movies, my hand caresses the spot he connected. And he gets what he wants when I don’t say another word, only stare at him with open hostility.

  Really, I should tell him exactly what I think about this whole ‘training’ shit. But I’m not going to. This little bastard just made it on my list of people I’m going to fuck up when this is all over. He signed his death certificate, and I hope big bubba takes his ass without prison soap.

  Never liked this douche in the first place. Didn’t want to be around him at all, simply for the fact he’s Joaquin’s lap dog. But since it’s been almost a week and the only person I’ve seen since breakfast that day is this asshole and Trevor, I think it’s safe to say that I don’t have much of a choice. He’s not going anywhere.

  “You. May. Respond,” he grits out between clenched teeth.

  It’s like … Damn, it’s hard to explain—but it’s as if he’s too complacent in this role. As if he’s done this job before, and he knows his way around putting someone of my station in their place. This isn’t the type of role a butler finds himself in, but more like a person that has a strategic role to play just like everyone else.

  Since that could be the case, I do the only thing I can. “No, sir.” My bottom lip trembles with the surge of emotions running through me. But I refuse to allow those emotions to speak themselves into existence. I know this asshole doesn’t like me; it was apparent when we showed up that first day. So, I’m not going to give him an excuse to use me as a punching bag.

  The next time I go up against this asshole, it will be him kneeling before me.

  Without saying another word, I sink down onto my knees. My hands automatically go behind my back—hands gripping each elbow in a way that elongates my form and shoves my chest outward—all without breaking character and looking up at the asshole ‘training’ me.

  After a few moments, I see him circle me out of the corner of my eye. After another, I feel the tip of his fingers ghost along the back of my neck. I try my best to repress a shudder of revulsion, but it’s no use. He sickens me, and my body is not in the market to listen to me.

  “My touch affects you.” Yeah, it makes me physically ill, asshole.

  “I wonder what your masters would think if they were to find out,” he taunts, thinking he has something to hold over me, but really, he’s got nothing.

  He’s disgusting.

  His master is disgusting.

  Hell, he’d probably shit if he knew I don’t even mentally like mine.

  The only thing he’s about to get is yesterday’s lunch all over his shined-to-perfection shoes. Even the smell of his aftershave is causing my stomach to get a case of the churns.

  “What, nothing to say?”

  I bite my lip to the point of pain, but instead of caving to his incessant taunting, I keep quiet like I’m supposed to. I’m not about to give him another reason to hit me, which is exactly what he wants to do. From the split second after he did it the second time, I saw how much enjoyment he got from hitting me.

  But then he has to go and hit below the belt.

  His fingers weave through my hair. He jerks me back against him, my ear right up against his lips, whispering, “Don’t worry, Plaything—I fucked your mother, too. She wanted it just like you do. The women in your family are bred to become whores.”

  Red slides across my vision. Before I can catch myself, or even think about the consequences of my actions, I jerk my head forward so hard strands of hair rip free from my scalp. Then, with all my might, I thrust myself backward and slam the back of my head against his face. A sickening crunch quickly follow
s, and so does the sound of his cursing as he yells out in pain.

  Quickly, before he can right himself, I jump up to my feet. My eyes flit from him, watching as he covers his mouth and nose—blood seeping through his fingers—to watch Trevor. Any moment now he’s going to come flying at me for daring to hurt one of them. I’ll be ready for him. No matter if he got the drop on me once. I won’t allow him to do it again.

  “Well, come on,” I thrust out my hand between us. “I’m already fucking going down, might as well take another one of you with me.”

  I have no idea what I’m saying at this point. All I know is, I’m fucked. I hit Joaquin’s butler; all because he made a snide comment about how much of a whore my mother is.

  Newsflash; I already knew this. But it seems I still have the gut reaction to save face for the woman that clearly threw me to a different brand of wolf when I was younger.

  Nervous energy flows from the adrenaline, causing my body to start bouncing on the tips of my toes in preparation for battle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the old fuck is still out of commission, so I keep my full focus on the only threat in the room.

  “Come on, motherfucker!” I scream, hating the way my voice cracks at the end. I also hate the way Trevor’s eyes crinkle at the side, as if he’s amused by my actions.

  “If you think I’m going down without a fight, you’re crazy.”

  I shift across the floor, putting more distance between us. I slide an armchair in front of me, my body moving on autopilot. Next comes a table, then one of those hard-as-fuck Venetian, wing-back chairs. Turbulent huffs of air flow in and out of me. But the whole time I keep my eyes on the man in front of me. A man that’s still yet to move from his spot in the corner.

  My back bumps into the door that leads out of the sitting room. I fumble to find the door handle, only just making purchase and twisting, when his voice rings out through the room.

  “I taught you that move.”

  Every part of me freezes. My eyes jump to his, and I’m nearly blown away when I see a hint of pride shining through his dark depths. We stand, cemented in time, silently watching the other. I never say anything to him—if I were, what would I say? He told me that none of our time together meant anything.