Brat: A High School Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 2)

by Ellie Meadows

  “Please, Drake. Please.” She dragged out the second please, hands pressing against the back of my head, trying to urge me to move faster. “God, I’m so close. I’m so close it hurts.”

  “Good,” I breathed out, burying my face deeper. I licked a few seconds more, back and forth fast and furiously until her legs were shaking against my shoulders. I pulled away just when I thought she was going to climax. It wasn’t time yet.

  “No. Oh my god. Don’t stop.” Tabs scrambled on the sofa as I pulled away from her, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my shirt. She worked her way to a kneeling position, her hands trying to pull me back to her. I pushed her away.

  “Not yet. When I say so.” I stood, pulling off my pants and boxers. I didn’t bother with the shirt, though Tabs reached forward and yanked on it, wanting me to remove it also. I shook my head. “Turn around.” I watched her turn to the face the other direction, heat building in my chest. I liked a girl’s back. I liked the line of spine down the center and the curve of waist and hips and ass. I especially liked her ass right now, covered in red marks from my nails. “You know, Tabs, you were wrong.”

  “Wrong about what?” She was still kneeling, her head turned to try and see me behind her.

  “I don’t need someone to fall completely for me.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “I just need someone to fall… whenever I fucking want them to.” And then I pushed her. She fell willingly, close enough to the end of the sofa to grip its arm. I moved behind her, rubbing my hands up and down her silky ass. My fingers moved low, brushing against her lips and then pushing between them to feel the warm wetness just waiting for me.

  She groaned, impatient.

  And she didn’t respond to my words. She just waited—ass in the air, back arched, hands gripping the patterned fabric.

  “Say you want it,” I ordered, rubbing my hand down her back firmly and then using two fingers to dip into her pussy—shallow and fast. Only a tease.

  “I want it, Drake.” Her voice was breathy, body rocking a little.

  “Again,” fingers inside again, in and out twice, then tracing a trail over her asshole which made her quiver.

  “I want it. Please, Drake. I want it.”

  I gripped my cock, rubbing my slick fingers up and down the shaft. I didn’t need to; I was still hard, ready. The need was so fucking great that I pushed into her without thinking. Her hot pussy wrapped around my dick and we shuddered together, bodies in synch. I held her hips and closed my eyes, pushing in and out and enjoying every inch of movement. I felt the sensation build faster than I wanted it to—that rising action before the climax that feels like goddamn euphoria.

  “Condom,” I heard her gasp out, though it took a second to register.

  “Fuck,” I moaned, realizing what an idiot I was being but also not wanting to pull my dick out. I pushed deep into her and leaned down against her back, reaching towards the floor and snagging the sweatpants with my index finger. I had the condom out quickly, ripping the package open with my teeth. I pulled out from her long enough to roll the rubber over my tip and down.

  Tab’s body was bouncing gently when I shoved my cock back into her. She’d reached down between her legs to rub her clit and little groans of pleasure told me she wasn’t far off now. This time, I wouldn’t stop it. I picked up the speed, aggressively pumping myself into her. She moaned, her body vibrating with waves of pleasure, seconds before I came. I slammed into her as deeply as I could, feeling the hot cum fill the condom. I breathed heavily, staring down at her—small fairy-like face, pale and yet pink-cheeked from sex.

  It wasn’t enough, not tonight.

  I flipped Tabs over and pulled off the condom, tossing it to the ground. Her eyes widened as I lay down beside her. “What are you doing?” She started to ask, but the question died on her lips as I pushed my index and middle fingers into her, finding her hot and swollen. I finger fucked her. In and out, over and over. And then I pulled out and lifted my hands to her face. She parted her lips, eyes locked with mine as she pulled my wet index and middle fingers into her mouth. I watched her suck, feeling need rise in me like a forest fire again.

  Pulling my fingers away, I leaned down and kissed her hard. She kissed me back, petite tongue dancing with mine. My hand found her again as our lips moved. I rubbed fast, circling rhythmically around her clit. I pulled away from her and Tab’s eyes closed, her hand reaching to cover her mouth. “You’re going to cum again for me, Tabs,” I told her, a deeply-pitched whisper against her ear. “Again. And fucking again.”

  She whimpered, pressing her hand more firmly against her face. Her back arched as she orgasmed. She begged me to stop afterwards, her body shaking. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted to be in control. I wanted her to cum so many times that she couldn’t walk to her car, let alone drive home.

  I wanted to own her. Screw being honest with her. Screw pushing her away. I could always count on Tabs for a fuck. I wanted that constant. I wanted this small girl who lacked self-worth to always forgive me, to always want me.

  I made her orgasm twice more and there were tears in her eyes when I finally stopped. Her face was pale, her breathing erratic. I kissed her again, feeling her chest rise and fall too quickly. Her lips barely moved against mine and she didn’t say anything when I lifted my face from hers. Instead she shifted onto her side to look away from me as her body calmed.

  I ran my hand down her curves lazily, leaving a trail of stickiness. Tabs didn’t turn back towards me, even after she’d stopped shaking and her breathing normalized. “Did you not like that?” I asked, keeping my voice casual.

  “It was new,” she said in a small voice.

  “You wanted me to treat you better, right?” I pulled her gently to me, my cock throbbing when her bare ass touched it. “I thought you’d like that. I thought you’d like me paying more attention to you.”

  “I did.” She sighed, finally relaxing against me. “I do. But… it almost hurt towards the end.”

  When she said it hurt, my body reacted… my dick wanted more, but there was something else that gave me pause. Guilt? But fucking why? I’d focused on her. I’d given her body release. I fucked her the best way I knew how. I didn’t have any goddam reason to feel guilty. “I don’t like it soft,” I finally whispered.

  “I know you don’t, Drake.”

  Tabs sat up and looked at me then. There was something in her face that I’d never seen before.

  A dawning.

  Sun cresting the horizon.

  Realization.

  “I think I’m always going to be soft though, Drake.” She reached down and grabbed her pajamas, then stood and walked towards the pool house bathroom.

  She was in there long enough that I dozed off, not bothering to cover myself, arm slung over my head against the couch. When I woke up, she was gone.

  She’d left me a note on the coffee table though.

  I think I’m done falling, Drake. I’ll stay mad this time. Xx

  I didn’t know what did it—what finally made Tabs realize that I wasn’t going to change, no matter what I said. For some fucking reason, reading the note almost made me sad. I swallowed that feeling down.

  Like the Castleton I was. Like the motherfucking Castleton I was.

  7.

  T A R R Y N

  The first thing I did when I woke up was go for a run. I needed to process things, needed to feel my body hit that high. I refused to even look at my phone until I was back home and showered.

  Drake: I really can be different.

  Drake: Sleep well.

  “Whatever,” I muttered, squeezing the towel against my hair.

  Fast-forward to Sunday afternoon and my new bestie had taken refuge, once again, from her mom’s pension for starving the family on the holy day. Sasha did need a body cleanse, but it wasn’t spiritual in nature—it was ‘length and girth’ and all things Steve.

  Sasha sprawled across my bed, her makeup-free face buried against my pillow. Even though her
voice was muffled by the down stuffing, I understood every word she said. “I can’t believe I let this happen. I can’t stand the guy.”

  “I think the woman doth protest too much,” I quipped, reaching down to paint my big toenail a subtle lavender-grey shade.

  “No, seriously. I mean it. We left the dance and he was cock out and grabbing my tits before we made it to the car.” She acted stricken, like Steve’s actions were unexpected. “I’m more than a piece of meat, Tarryn.” She tried to say it with a serious face, but the quirk at the corner of her lips gave her away. “I just don’t like him,” she finished with an overly-dramatic sigh.

  I laughed. “That’s some serious bullshit, Sash. Firstly, I bet you loved the fact that he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Secondly, any idiot could see how much you like Steve.”

  She laughed loudly then, tossing away the pillow and sitting upright. “It’s just terrible fucking timing. He doesn’t want to go off to college. I mean, that’s fine. But I am going away to college. So this can't really be anything more than a senior year fling. You know? So I can’t like-like him.”

  “I think that boat’s sailed. Why don’t you enjoy it while you can? What’s the harm?” I shrugged, painting another toe and using my fingernail to clean up the messy side. When Sasha didn’t answer me immediately, I paused and looked over at her. She was sitting cross-legged now, elbows perched on her thighs and head supported by fists pressing into her chin. “You’re thinking about it too much. Enjoy it and be happy for as long as it lasts.”

  “You don’t get it. The harm is,” she paused and made a face, “that I’ll do exactly what my mom did and my maternal grandmother before her did. I’ll meet a guy, fall head over heels, and decide that’s the ticket. Follow him around, no more individual dreams.”

  “You’re not your mom though, Sash. If anything, you take after your dad’s Mom. So stop worrying.”

  “Yeah, I guess Grandmother Dee’s rubbed off on me.”

  “Just a little,” I hovered my right index finger over my thumb, creating a teensy gap of sarcasm.

  She snorted. “Point taken. Steve’s more than I thought he’d be. Once we got past the sex bit and started talking… he doesn’t want to go to college, but he’s still got plans. Trade school. Electrical stuff. He’ll be making sixty thousand without a mountain of student loan debt.”

  “So he’s not a total idiot then.” I winked at her.

  “Shut up.” She snagged a pillow and tossed it at me. I ducked too slow and ended up with a face full of plush.

  “Hey, don’t hate me for telling you the truth. That’s what friends do.” I looked down, checking that the pillow had missed my still-wet nails. It hadn’t. “Okay, new rule. No pillow fights when nail polish is involved.”

  “No promises.” Sash tilted her head back and sniffed the air. “Ten bucks that’s pancakes.”

  “Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fresh fruit. Mom said she was going full-out with breakfast for lunch.”

  Sasha’s stomach growled loudly enough for me to hear across the room. “Dude, your mom really does starve you on Sundays, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes. She seriously does. And I’m going to have to shower before going home or Dad will smell bacon on me. Eating bacon without him is like a cardinal family sin.” She hopped up and stretched, slapping her hand over her stomach when it again protested a lack of anything to digest.

  Sasha padded out of the room and downstairs, not waiting for me to fix my nails. I followed only a few moments later and eventually found her sitting at the kitchen counter, a plate already stacked with goodies in front of her. “You’re too slow. I couldn’t wait.”

  “Under five minutes, Sasha. You weren’t going to die.” I soft-punched her in the arm and took the barstool next to her.

  “Hey, baby. Kind of hungry or super hungry?” Mom pointed at Sasha with her spatula. “This one’s superhero level.”

  “They starve me, Mrs. Monroe. It’s torture in my house.” Sasha tucked crow-dark hair behind her ears and then grabbed the open bottle of maple syrup. She poured it liberally, over everything—even the eggs—and then she started chowing down like she hadn’t eaten in days.

  “I think we’re going to need more pancake mix.” Mom laughed, opening a nearby cabinet and pulling down flour.

  “These are so good,” Sasha moaned around a stuffed mouth of sticky pancakes and sausage.

  “I’m not the world’s best cook, but breakfast food is my sweet spot.” Mom smiled, flipping a pancake to cook the opposite side before snagging an empty plate and putting a little bit of everything on it. She slid the offering in front of me. “Here, Tarryn. You didn’t answer me, but considering I’ve seen you eat a single piece of toast today, I want you to eat hearty.”

  “I ate an orange too,” I protested, taking the fork she now offered me and leaning it against the plate.

  “Well, that’s enough to keep your blood sugars in check,” she said sarcastically, tilting her head and giving me a ‘get with the program’ expression.

  “Fine, fine. I’ll eat.”

  “I call seconds.” Sasha speared a giant wad of yellow eggs; her plate was already half-cleared. “I have to survive until tomorrow morning,” she defended her eating as I gave her side eye.

  “Lord help you if you’re ever really trapped somewhere without food. I’m the one with the stupid food disorder.” I smiled at her and picked up a slice of bacon.

  “Hey, I need to eat. It’s a basic right of the human condition. Learning and eating and individuality and having lots and lots of se—”

  “Sessions with a therapist,” I blurted out, cutting her off. Her eyes widened, her gaze darting to my mom. But mom hadn’t realized what she was about to say. She was too busy measuring cream of tartar to add to the new pancake batter.

  My phone, shoved into my jean shorts, pinged seconds later as I was nibbling on the same piece of bacon. I shifted my upper body in the chair and shoved fingers into my pocket to pull out the mobile. “Speaking of sessions with a therapist,” I muttered, seeing the messenger. I turned the screen in Sasha’s direction.

  “You know,” Sasha took a bite, chewed for a second, then spoke again, “this isn’t typical Drake Castleton. He doesn’t obsessively text girls. I mean, all those messages after the dance. More now.”

  The phone alerted me to another message and Sasha quirked an eyebrow. “He’s got it bad. I’d never in a million years have guessed it, but I really think you’ve… hooked the goldfish there, Tay-tay.”

  I cringed back from her. “Tay-tay? Um… no. Just no.”

  She shrugged. “Testing it out. You need a nickname. I’m Sasha, Sash, that girl who starves on Sundays. It’s my duty as your new bestie to find a suitable and catchy alternative to your name.”

  “Tarryn isn’t long. I don’t need a nickname.”

  “Okay, T.N.J.” Her fork paused on the way to her mouth. “Three initials just doesn’t work like two. T.N. or T.J. But T.N.J sounds like a dental disorder.”

  “No nickname,” I insisted, poking her plate and shifting it a few inches away.

  “Hey,” she protested, pulling her plate back in position. “You can mess with a lot of things when you’re tweaked at me, but don’t dick with the food. Especially on starvation day.”

  Mom was dancing around the kitchen, finishing off the last of the pancake batter. I wondered why she hadn’t commented on our convo about Drake, but then I noticed she’d tucked her wireless earbuds in and was lost in, likely, a motivation audiobook written by some semi-celebrity with a ‘unique’ point of view. She’d given us some privacy while we ate. I smiled at her, as she rinsed out the mixing bowl and flipped the last golden circles on the griddle.

  “So, what are we going to do about that?”

  I turned my attention back to Sasha, who was pointing at my phone with her fork. “About what?” I asked stupidly.

  “About heart-sick Castleton. This screams opportunity…” her sentence t
railed off as she studied my face.

  “What are you looking at?” I reached up and self-consciously brushed at my face, feeling nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Why do you have to have such a hard name? It doesn’t shorten easily, there’s no obvious nickname already established out in the world. It took me forever to come up with Tay-tay.”

  “And that sounds like a baby ready for breastfeeding.” I made a horrible whine face. “Ma-ma, tay-tay time. You will not call me something that sounds like a baby asking for tits.”

  Sasha choked on her eggs.

  “What in the world are you girls talking about?” My mom’s voice piped up and my head whipped towards her. Of course she’d pick then to pause her audiobook.

  Sputtering, I answered with the truth. “Sasha is trying to come up with a nickname for me. So far, all she’s got is Tay-tay.”

  “Oh,” Mom made a face. “Yeah, that’s bad. You done?” She glanced down at my half-finished plate.

  “Mm-hmm,” I nodded and pushed it towards her.

  “When you were little, I called you Tarry Tornado,” she smiled fondly. “You did not like sitting still, following directions, wearing clothes. The minute I had you dressed, you’d run stripping down the hallway hollering like Tarzan’s Jane.”

  “Mom,” I mock-gasped, side-eying Sasha. “Please don’t tell stories like that.”

  “You love it,” she winked, hanging up her apron and strolling out of the kitchen. “I’m going to call your dad and see how much longer he has to work today.”

  After Mom left, Sasha spoke slowly. “Tarry Tornado has potential.” She rubbed her chin gently… she was giving the idea way more thought than it deserved.

  “No,” I stopped her firmly. “Eat your food and go home, Sasha. And if you keep up this nickname nonsense, I’m going to ban you from my house. But only on Sundays.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Her eyes went wide and she dropped her fork; it clinked sharply against her plate. “That’s cruel and unusual.”

  “Exactly what you deserve.” I leaned over and bumped shoulders with her.