Ruthless Kings: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Windsor Academy Book 2)

by Laura Lee

  “You don’t have to be strong twenty-four-seven, Jazz.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s just it. I do. Or I thought so, anyway. The way I grew up, you had to be vigilant at all times. If you lacked awareness or showed any weakness, you were painting a target on your back. For the most part, I kept to myself, but if it ever came down to fight or flight, I'd almost always choose fight because there was always someone looking to prey on the vulnerable. That's why jumping into a gang is so alluring for some people. You have instant protection. Instant family. They're not always just a bunch of criminals. Sometimes, it's good people trying to make the best out of shitty circumstances.

  “But last night taught me that it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes. That I don’t have to shoulder everything by myself. That I can fully trust someone else to take control of a situation. And it also taught me that it's okay to be self-indulgent every once in a while. I can't remember the last time I did something for myself for the pure joy of it, Kingston. I loved every moment of what happened between the three of us, but I'll never want to do that again." Jazz scoots a little closer and traces my eyebrow with her finger. "I know how hard that was for you, and I am so grateful for it. The fact that you could be so selfless only reaffirms my decision."

  I run my fingers down Jazz’s spine. “What decision is that?”

  “I want a relationship with you and only you. I don't want to fight it anymore, either."

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Jazz reaches out and fists my dick, forcing a groan past my lips as her thumb brushes the ridge right beneath the head. “And I think we should celebrate.”

  A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “Again?”

  She nods. “Again.”

  “But we have to hit the road soon to pick up your sister.”

  Jazz climbs back on top of me. “We’ll make it fast. We can do slow later.”

  “Well, in that case, get up here and sit on my face.” I tap my lips.

  She laughs and gives me a cheeky wink. “Well, if you insist.”

  I’m smiling so hard, my cheeks hurt. “Oh, baby, I abso-fucking-lutely insist.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  JAZZ

  “Is this going to be weird? Did he ever reply to your text?”

  Kingston takes my bag for me as we walk to my locker. “Yeah. He said he smoked a little too much last night and slept through his alarm. Didn’t get here until right before third period. He seemed okay. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Kingston and I haven't seen Bentley since our little party of three the other night. He must've been sleeping when we left yesterday morning, and we spent most of the day at the zoo with my sister and Ainsley. I expected to run into Bent in the parking lot this morning before school like we usually do, but he was suspiciously absent. Now, we're heading to lunch, where Bentley should be.

  “Has this happened before? The sleeping in late? I know he smokes a lot of weed—more so lately—but it doesn’t seem like it gets in the way of everyday life. He seems pretty responsible.”

  “He is.” Kingston glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “This has happened before, but it's been a long time, and his head wasn't in a good place. Back then, it was several times a week. I don't think we need to worry about him sleeping in one time."

  “Do you think he’s avoiding us?” I chew on the tip of my thumb. “Do you think he regrets what happened? Do you think it’s—”

  Kingston presses me into a locker and slams his mouth down on mine. My lips part in surprise, and when his tongue dives inside, I forget what I was saying. I’m instantly on fire, reaching up on my toes, chasing his retreating lips.

  “What was that for?”

  His lips kick up in the corners. “It shut you up, didn’t it?”

  I shoot him a glare then fist his hair with both hands, pulling him back to me until our teeth clash. Kingston growls into my mouth as our tongues tangle and twist. We're desperate for one another, almost violently so. He moves his body, so one of his muscular thighs is wedged between mine. I shamelessly grind my core into his leg, trying to relieve the ache building inside of me.

  Kingston's hand wraps around my throat, putting slight pressure on it. It's not painful, more like possessive. Claiming. So are the fingers on his other hand as they duck beneath my plaid skirt, feathering over my inner thighs. I widen my legs, silently begging him to go higher, to—

  “Whoa there, kiddos. This is crazy hot and all, but you’re about to corrupt all these impressionable youths.”

  Kingston rips his mouth away from mine at the sound of Bentley’s voice. Bent’s standing next to us, with a devious grin on his face. He takes a step back, gesturing to the dozen or so students gathered in the hall, watching us, shock and amusement evident on their faces. Kingston and I instantly break apart, fixing our skewed uniforms.

  Bentley swings one arm around each of us and starts leading us into the dining room. “How goes it, boys and girls? What are you in the mood to eat? I’m starving, so everything sounds fucking fantastic.”

  Bentley’s arms drop from our shoulders when he reaches for a tray in the food line. That’s when I get my first good look at him. His eyes aren’t bloodshot, but they are droopy, and he's sporting a perma smirk. The boy is definitely rocking a decent high, and I'd bet every last penny I have, he has a vial of Visine in his pocket.

  Bentley grabs a slice of pizza and an artisan cheeseburger with fries before looking back at me. “What’s up, Jazzy Jazz? How’s your day going so far?”

  “Uh...fine, I guess.”

  “After what I just witnessed, it seems a lot better than fine. You know, before you came around, Davenport had a pretty strict anti-PDA policy. Nowadays...not so much.”

  “Watch it, asshole,” Kingston mutters.

  Bentley elbows Kingston playfully. “It’s all good, dawg. I’m just fuckin’ with you. I can’t blame you; if Jazz were my girl, I’d definitely have trouble keeping my hands off her. You’re a lucky fucker, fo’ sho’.”

  Kingston and I share a quick look behind Bentley’s back as we walk toward our table. He’s acting like the same old Bentley—a little antagonistic, a lot flirty, but at the same time, there’s something different, like he’s drawn a clear line in the sand.

  “Fo’ sho’?” I repeat. “When did you become Snoop D-O-double G?”

  “Ha! I wish. If I could be that successful while smoking weed by the truckload, I’d be one happy camper.” Bentley winks.

  Kingston laughs and bumps fists with his bestie. The awkwardness I’ve been worried about all morning is nonexistent. In fact, the animosity that's been building between these two men seems to be missing entirely. I'm sure it helps that Bentley's definitely not behaving like someone who ate me out in front of my boyfriend two days ago.

  Wait a second...

  I lean over to whisper into Kingston’s ear. “Are you my boyfriend?”

  Kingston’s eyes—more amber than emerald today—twinkle in amusement. “You’re shitting me, right?”

  I shrug. “I dunno. I mean, I know we talked about having a relationship, but we kinda skipped over the label part.”

  We set our trays on the table, but before I can take a seat, Kingston fists the hair at the nape of my neck and plants another searing kiss on my lips.

  He’s full-on smiling when he pulls away, catching a glimpse of my likely dazed expression. “You’re mine, Jazz, and vice versa. I don’t give a fuck what label you use, it’s not going to change what this is.”

  My face heats as I sink into my chair. I’m sure if I turned around right now, every set of eyes would be trained in our direction.

  “O-kay then.”

  I take a bite of my turkey club. I'm sure it's delicious because all the food here is, but my brain isn't communicating with my taste buds. It's too busy trying to convince my vag that I can’t mount the man next to me in front of all these people.

  A piercing scream echoes from behind us. We all turn
around just in time to see Peyton shaking out of her fuckboy’s hold and stomping away. Not before she levels me with a withering glare, though. As Lucas Gale follows her like a lost puppy, he sends me an even harsher expression.

  “Damn. What’d I do to get his panties in such a bunch?”

  Bentley laughs. “That, baby girl, was jealousy rearing its ugly head.”

  My brows scrunch in confusion. “Why would Lucas Gale be jealous of me?”

  “Not you, per se,” Bentley says. “Your boy, and then you by association. That fucker has had a hard-on for the kings for as long as I can remember. He wants the power, and he knows he can't have it. No matter how far he crawls up Peyton's ass, the only way he'll ever be a king is if one of us steps down. His grandfather and father were kings. He should've been one, too, but there are only three from each graduating class. There's never been an exception, which is why Peyton’s attempt to expand the court is such a joke.”

  “Why did you guys make the cut when Lucas didn’t?”

  “Because our grandfathers were the three founding fathers,” Reed explains. “That trumps everything.”

  I shake my head. “I still don’t get what the big deal is. You guys don’t seem to wield that much power.”

  All three guys smirk. Even Ainsley joins in.

  “What am I missing?” I ask Ainsley.

  “You don’t see it, Jazz, because you’ve never given them the power over you from day one. You’d have to buy into the order for them to successfully reign. But here’s the thing: You may think it’s a bunch of bullshit, but everyone else at Windsor believes it’s the law. They’ve all been conditioned since their freshman orientation, maybe even before then.

  “Even Headmaster Davis won’t reprimand them unless they break the no violence policy. Even then, as long as there aren’t too many witnesses, he’d turn his head. Same with the teachers. You don’t fuck with the royals, especially the kings. As sexist and antiquated as it is, if the court is ever divided, the ones with the dicks will always have the final word.”

  “Well, that’s a bunch of crap,” I mutter.

  “It is,” Ainsley agrees. “But, in this case, it might be a good thing. If someone didn’t have that power over Peyton, that girl would be even worse than she is. If you ask me, the boys are being too kind by ignoring her bullshit.”

  “You know what, Ains,” Kingston says. “I think you’re right. I think they need a reminder of who’s really in charge, especially after the shit Peyton pulled with Jazz at the party.” He looks to Reed. “Headmaster Douche is out of the office for that boosters’ luncheon, right?”

  Bentley grins. “I like where you’re going with this.”

  “What are you going to do?” I ask Kingston.

  Kingston smacks a quick kiss on my lips and stands. “Watch, baby.”

  Reed and Bentley follow him as they walk toward the royals’ table. Peyton and Lucas are still missing, but the remaining six look terrified as the guys approach. I slam a hand over my mouth as Kingston sweeps his arm out, knocking three trays onto the floor at once.

  Ainsley laughs. "Oh, shit. He's really going for a dramatic flair, isn't he?"

  The entire room is frozen. Silent. You could legit hear a pin drop right now.

  “What is he doing?” I whisper.

  Kingston’s eyes flash to that Christian guy. “Clean that shit up.”

  “Excuse me?” the guy balks.

  Bentley belts out this creepy evil laugh as he yanks the guy out of his chair and throws him to the floor. "Are you hard of hearing, or just a dumbass? He said, clean that shit up.”

  Christian’s jaw tics. “What am I supposed to use? Do you see a mop and broom anywhere?”

  Reed’s eyes scan the room until they land on a teacher. I think that guy teaches history, but I’m not in any of his classes. “You! Find this asshole a mop and broom.”

  What the hell? He can’t talk to a teacher like that! My jaw drops as history guy scurries off, presumably to raid the utility closet.

  “Holy shit.”

  Reed looks down on Christian. “Use your blazer until he gets back.”

  “What are you doing?!” Peyton practically sprints back into the room, Lucas hot on her tail. “Kingston, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Ooh, this is gonna be good.” Ainsley channels her inner Mr. Burns, tapping her fingertips together.

  I’m just as enthralled by this shit show as the rest of the room.

  Kingston ignores Peyton and addresses Lucas instead. “Help him. Now!”

  Lucas looks down on his friend, who’s now splattered in marinara. “Fuck you. You clean it up.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh, snap.”

  Kingston’s eyes fill with rage. Before any of us know what’s happening, Kingston has Lucas by the back of the neck, his face pinned to the table. Half the room winces in sympathy, the other half laughs.

  “Kingston! Stop it!” Peyton screams. “Tell me what to do to make this stop!”

  “Now you get to do it in your underwear, and use your uniform to mop it up," Kingston grits out, still talking to our star QB. When Lucas stubbornly refuses to acknowledge him, Kingston turns to Peyton. "You wanna help me out here, Peyton? For old time's sake? Either this fucker strips down and helps clean up the mess, or you strip down and do it for him. What’s it gonna be?”

  “Lucas, you heard him. Strip down to your fucking underwear and clean up this mess!” Peyton looks like she’s on the verge of tears. I’d feel sorry for her, you know, if she wasn’t a colossal cunt. “Your king and queen have spoken.”

  Kingston steps back, allowing Lucas to stand. Lucas glares at Peyton the entire time he’s undressing until he’s left in nothing but a pair of tighty whities.

  “What am I supposed to wear after this?” Lucas whines.

  Kingston brushes imaginary lint off his sleeve. “Not my problem.”

  "Cute undies, bro," Bentley remarks, holding up a pinky. "Although they don't do much to conceal your little problem.”

  From what I can see, Bentley’s not wrong. Lucas is a big guy. He’s tall and has a great body with stacked muscles, but the obvious dick print beneath the white cotton is less than impressive. Laughter and micro dick jokes are all around as Lucas gets on his hands and knees, attempting to mop up the spilled red sauce using his stark white shirt.

  “Maybe he’s a grower.” Ainsley giggles.

  I chuckle. “I certainly hope so for Peyton’s sake.”

  “Listen up,” Kingston’s voice booms across the room, but he’s staring Peyton down. “Starting tomorrow, the queens and their little lackeys will be sitting at that table.” He points to the back corner of the room. “That nice one right next to the kitchen.”

  Peyton gasps. “Kingston, no. Please, don’t do this.”

  His eyes turn away from her to address the room. "The kings are reclaiming their rightful place in this dining hall, and any person we see fit to join us is at our discretion, and our discretion only."

  Peyton tugs on Kingston’s hand. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

  Kingston pulls his arm back like it’s been burned. “Don’t fucking touch me. For any reason. The only woman’s hands I want on me is sitting right across from my sister. Starting tomorrow...” He pats the chair Peyton usually occupies. “Jazz will sit here, right next to me. Any questions?”

  Peyton’s face is doing its best impression of a tomato. “No.”

  Kingston cups his hand over his ear, acting like he didn’t hear her. “I’m sorry; I didn’t catch that. What’d you say?”

  Peyton’s fists are clenched so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if her palms have little bloody crescent marks on them. “I said, no! I have no questions.”

  A huge smile stretches across Ainsley’s face. “Do you believe they have some power now?”

  I’m still staring in awe as Kingston prowls in my direction, his gaze never leaving mine. When he reaches the table, he extends his hand, helping me up from the cha
ir.

  Kingston gets a wicked smile on his face and leans into my ear. “Remember that thing we were talking about doing in the janitor’s closet? We should go do that now.”

  If my panties weren’t already soaked from Kingston’s ruthless display of authority earlier, they would be with that visual.

  I start walking backward out of the room, tugging him with me. “Whatever you say, your highness.”

  Now Kingston’s pulling on my hand, and I have to run to keep up with him, laughing the entire way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  JAZZ

  The last three weeks have been freakishly uneventful as we've all fallen into a routine of sorts. At school, not a single person has messed with me, verbally or otherwise, which I have to admit, is as odd as it is refreshing. After Kingston's showdown in the dining hall, Peyton and her groupies haven't stepped into that room. I don't know where they're eating lunch, but then again, I don't really care. I'm guessing Peyton and Lucas figured it was their best way of saving face without incurring Kingston's wrath.

  After school, the boys and I have been reviewing surveillance footage while Ainsley's at ballet, but neither Kingston's father or mine have given us anything we didn't already know. It probably doesn't help that they've been out of town even more than usual. Given how rarely they were around before, that's saying a lot. After Ainsley's done with rehearsal, the five of us usually get dinner together and hang out. On Sundays, Ainsley has become a regular addition to Belle's outings, which my sister has loved. I think Kingston may be getting a little salty because Belle seems to adore his twin more than she does him.

  Speaking of Kingston...things between us have been incredible. Not only is the sex mind-blowing every single time, but even outside of the bedroom, he's so affectionate and thoughtful, I can hardly believe he's the same person I met a few months ago. Plus, ever since that night at Bentley's house, the absence of tension between Kingston and Bent continues. Who would've ever thought the solution to their problem would be getting naked with me? Thankfully, Bentley has stayed true to his word, never once bringing up that night. It's bizarre to think it even happened with how quickly things went back to normal. It almost feels like a dream.