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

by Laura Lee

  “Fucking hell,” I groan as I fully sheath myself.

  I grab Jazz's hips, drawing back to the tip, before pushing in again. I reach forward, gathering her long hair and wrapping it around my fist. I yank on the thick strands until she's toeing the line between pleasure and pain, knowing exactly how she likes it. I fuck her hard and fast until skin slaps against skin, and our breathing is ragged. I slide my other hand to where our bodies are joined, coating my thumb with the evidence of her arousal.

  With my fingertips digging into Jazz’s lower back, I press my thumb against the tightened bud between her cheeks, stimulating the sensitive nerves. My hips continue driving into her without mercy, working her over until her pussy’s throbbing and clenching around me, signaling her impending climax.

  “Shit, I’m gonna come,” Jazz shouts.

  I smile when she presses into my thumb. “You want something from me, sweetheart?”

  She cranes her neck to glare at me. “Fuck off.”

  I laugh mockingly, but right before she falls over the edge, I sink my thumb inside her ass up to the first knuckle. Jazz throws her head back as she whimpers and curses and screams through her release. A few thrusts later, I’m groaning as I join her in orgasm bliss, moving slowly through the aftershocks. After the tremors wane, we both collapse into a boneless heap, skin slicked with sweat, trying to catch our breath.

  Jazz flips over as I roll to the side. She cradles my face in her hands and pulls me into a kiss, moaning as she tastes herself. Jesus, why is that always so hot? We take our time memorizing the topography of each other’s lips until they’re swollen and red. When we finally break for air, Jazz traces my eyebrow with her finger and stretches her neck to kiss what I assume is the bruise forming on my cheek. She grins when I softly kiss the middle of her forehead in return.

  What in the hell is this woman doing to me? How did we go from a hard, dirty fuck to something so...intimate?

  “Feel better?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  I brush some damp hair away from her face. “I’m glad I found you, Jazz.”

  I’m not just talking about tonight, and if her sleepy smile is any indication, she’s well aware of that fact.

  “I’m glad you found me, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  JAZZ

  “So, talk to me about Thanksgiving. What exactly should I expect?”

  Kingston focuses on merging into traffic on the freeway before answering. “Every year, our fathers rent out the ballroom in a five-star hotel, and host a stuffy black-tie dinner for approximately five hundred guests.”

  “What the fuck? Isn’t Thanksgiving supposed to be about spending time with your family, eating some turkey and pie?”

  He shakes his head. "To them, it's an annual networking event—an opportunity to boast about their accomplishments or make new business contacts. There are a lot of influential men in attendance from many different fields. You'll probably recognize some celebrities, too."

  “What’s my role in all of this?”

  “I suspect Callahan will parade you around like a show pony.” Kingston looks irritated by the thought. “He’ll act like he couldn’t be happier to have you in his life. Expect you to play nice with Madeline and Peyton so you’ll look like one, big happy family. He won’t waste the chance to put a new coat of wax on his public image.”

  “Sounds super fun,” I deadpan. “You’d think he wouldn’t want me there because I’m so ‘rough around the edges’, according to him.”

  Kingston briefly turns his head toward me and smirks. “I, for one, happen to like all your curves and your edges.”

  I give him my, you’re an idiot look, but since he’s paying attention to the road, I doubt he sees it. “It’s this Thursday. Why hasn’t anyone talked to me about it yet? If appearances are so important, wouldn’t you think Sperm Donor would’ve issued some kind of ‘behave yourself, or there will be consequences' warning?”

  “Maybe they were waiting for the break from school to begin. I’m sure Madeline plans to sic her stylists on you; probably has an evening gown waiting and everything. And to be fair, you’ve been at my house since break started.”

  It’s true; I have. Since the party, I can’t stand the thought of being alone. I have no doubt that fucker was telling the truth about knowing where I live. Plus, I’m not convinced Peyton didn’t purposely lead me right to him that night. She’s been dodging Kingston’s promised interrogation, which tells me she’s got something to hide.

  I narrow my eyes. “Smug isn’t a good look on you, Kingston.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He shrugs innocently.

  I scoff. "Bullshit. You don't want me staying at that house. Considering I've been with you for the last two nights, you think you've won."

  The asshole grins. “I would never think such a thing.”

  “Well, I’ve got news for you, buddy. I’m going home after we drop Belle off tonight.”

  He gives me the side-eye. “We’ll see about that.”

  I fold my arms over my chest and turn toward the window. “Ass.”

  Kingston laughs. “You love it.”

  I fight a smile. He’s right; I totally love our banter.

  "Back to the subject at hand...I'm not surprised your father or mine would put business over family on a holiday, but don't these other people have families of their own to spend the day with?"

  He nods. "They bring them with. There's sort of an unspoken rule that young children aren't welcome, but you'll see some people around our age there—several of them from Windsor. Besides, most of these people aren't what I would call friendly or family-oriented. Status and wealth are what drives them."

  Awesome. Five hundred clones of my sperm donor in the same room.

  My brows draw together. “You mentioned this thing will help you further the cause. How so?”

  He blows out a harsh breath. “Because I suspect some of these men help our fathers with their side business in one way or another. And I’m pretty sure there are at least a few dozen men in attendance who are buyers, or possibly brokers. I’ve been keeping a list, but it’s pretty easy to pick them out of the crowd if you watch them carefully enough. They’re usually watching the younger, prettier females in the room. Some of them a little too young.”

  I gag. “You mean we’re actually going to be in the same room as the sick fucks who’d buy and rape girls because that’s what they get off on?”

  Kingston’s lips thin. “Yep.”

  “I don’t know if I can do it, Kingston.” My heart starts beating rapidly as my eyes fill with tears. “How can I be in the same room with people like that and keep my mouth shut? The proximity to our fathers is bad enough, but dozens of them?”

  “Hey. Breathe.” He grabs my hand over the center console and squeezes. “Think of the states.”

  I breathe in and out a few times, trying to calm my racing pulse. After my meltdown at Bentley's house, I did some research on panic attacks. One coping method is to use a distraction technique like Kingston did when he kissed me. I couldn't find any articles that suggested engaging in a threesome, but I did find several that recommended reciting something from memory, like song lyrics. When I was in elementary school, we learned how to say all fifty states in alphabetical order using a specific beat, so I've been doing that whenever I start feeling anxious.

  Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas...California, Colorado, Connecticut. Delaware...Florida...

  By the time I get to Louisiana, I’ve regained my composure.

  “You good?” Kingston squeezes my hand again.

  I nod, blinking a few times. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  He gives me a soft smile. “Which one did you get to this time?”

  I lace our fingers together. “Louisiana.”

  Kingston brings our joined hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “It’s gonna be okay, Jazz. Bentley and Reed will also be there with their parents. Someone will be with you a
nd Ainsley at all times.”

  I slump back into the Rover’s plush leather seat. “God, I hate this. I just want it to be over already.”

  “Me too, princess. Me too.”

  “THIS IS BORING AS SHIT,” Bentley complains.

  “One of them is bound to give us something soon,” Kingston murmurs.

  The three of us have been poring over surveillance videos for hours. Kingston installed the monitoring software on multiple devices, so Bentley and Kingston are on their laptops, and I'm using Kingston's iPad. Thankfully, the cameras are motion-activated, so we only have to watch footage when there are actual people in the room. So far, the only drama has been my father telling Madeline he would not be footing the bill for her next collagen appointment, followed by Madeline breaking out the waterworks and begging him to reconsider. Other than that, it's been a bunch of mundane business shit.

  Bentley rubs the back of his neck. “I really wish we had another hand. My eyes are crossing.”

  Ainsley's ballet classes are also canceled this week for the holiday. Reed's been keeping her occupied, so we can do this without raising suspicion. I giggle when I think about how he's likely keeping her busy.

  Kingston lifts an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” I fake cough to cover my laugh.

  His expression tells me his bullshit meter is ringing loud and proud. “You don’t want to tell me? Fine. I have ways of extracting information when you’re naked later.”

  Bent groans. “I really need to get laid.”

  Bentley’s phone picks that moment to vibrate on the table in front of us.

  I catch a glimpse of the text as he opens it, and it's a short message accompanied by a picture of some girl's boobs.

  I nod to his cell. “Perfect timing. According to that, Morgan Whoever-she-is is D-T-F.”

  He shakes his head as his thumbs fly over the screen. “Nah, just not feelin’ it.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “She has a stellar rack.”

  His lips curve slightly. “Which matches the rest of her, but still not feelin’ it.”

  Kingston and I share a look. Most people would probably be worried that Bentley’s become even more enamored with me after that night in his house, but Kingston and I know that’s not the case. Bent and I seem to have this newfound respect and appreciation for one another, but the anticipation that fueled our attraction before is no longer there. I do think we’ve grown closer, but not in a physical sense.

  “But why?” I press.

  “Dunno. Just don’t.” Bentley shrugs.

  Oh, my poor, sad clown. This boy is holding onto so much grief, which I definitely understand, but the guilt he feels is unfounded. One of these days, I hope to convince him of that.

  Bentley sets his phone down and fixes his eyes back on the computer screen. “Hold up, I think we’ve got something.”

  Kingston and I both lean over to get a closer look. Some leggy brunette wearing a knee-length coat is storming into Preston Davenport’s corporate office, looking ready to raise hell.

  “Rewind thirty seconds and turn the volume up,” Kingston demands.

  Bentley complies, and we all watch the woman enter the office for a second time.

  “It didn’t work!” She throws her hands in the air. “Again!”

  Kingston’s dad couldn’t possibly look more bored as he reclines in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers.

  “Who is that?” Bentley asks. “She sounds familiar.”

  We haven’t gotten a glimpse of the woman’s face yet, but she definitely sounds familiar.

  “Preston!” the woman shouts. “Did you hear me?”

  Kingston’s body goes rigid beside me.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him.

  His eyes don’t dare to move away from the screen. “I know who that is.”

  “Wh—”

  “Shh!” he says. “Watch.”

  Preston’s eyes finally lift to the woman in front of him. “That’s what you get for sending a boy to do a man’s job, Peyton.”

  “What?!” Bentley and I shout at the same time.

  “But...her hair.” I wave my hand at the screen. “It’s brown.”

  “Look at the length.” Kingston pauses the video and points to the screen. “It’s a wig.”

  Bentley and I study the monitor carefully. Kingston's right. After Peyton's most recent haircut, her blonde hair now ends around her bra strap. This hair is not only dark brown, like mine, but it nearly hits her waist.

  “What the hell is going on?” I whisper.

  “Let’s find out.” Kingston’s jaw clenches as he presses play.

  “What are we going to do now?” Peyton starts pacing back and forth, giving us our first good look at her face. Yep, no denying it now; that’s definitely her.

  Kingston’s dad stands and rounds his desk. “Stop fucking moving.” His hand snakes out like a viper, grabbing Peyton’s upper arm. “And remember who the fuck you’re talking to.”

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” She yelps when Preston appears to squeeze. “I swear! I was upset, and I reacted poorly, but it will never happen again.” Peyton averts her eyes to the ground.

  “Am I the only one whose mind is fucking blown right now?” Bentley asks.

  I shake my head. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Sit down!” Preston shoves Peyton into the nearby chair before moving directly in front of her, propping his ass on the desk.

  It's a blatant power move because he's now looming over her, trying to disintegrate her with his eyes.

  "Now..." Kingston's dad removes his suit jacket and begins undoing his cufflinks. "Calmly, tell me why you insisted on wasting my time with this meeting."

  “I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I just need to know what to do. Kingston keeps trying to get a hold of me, and when he finds me, I’m afraid of what he might do. He knows something's up, and he's not going to give up until he gets it out of me. I'm afraid he might hurt me."

  I place my palm over my mouth to forcibly stifle my outburst. I want to scream so many obscenities at this bitch right now, it’s not even funny.

  Bentley and Kingston both look like they want to jump into the computer and throttle both people on the screen.

  "What did you expect?" Preston yells. "You shouldn't be surprised he suspects you. My son is highly intelligent, and you're just a dumb little slut who can't follow simple instructions!"

  “Ouch,” Bentley mumbles.

  Preston leans down and places his hands on the arms of Peyton’s chair, getting right in her face. “If you would’ve waited like I told you to, instead of sending some half-cocked steroid addict after her, we wouldn’t be in this predicament! If you’ve fucked this up for me, Peyton, I. Will. Kill. You. Better yet, I’ll shoot that meathead right in front of you, then I’ll feed you to the sharks. They’ll make you wish you were dead as they’re violating your body in every delicious way imaginable. Hell, I might even join them.”

  I place my palm over my mouth to stifle my cry. Nobody deserves that, not even Peyton.

  Peyton whimpers. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't...I just can't stand seeing them together. Kingston hates my guts, and it's all because of her. You saw their sex tape. You saw how he acts with her. He’s in love with her! How am I supposed to get him to marry me now?”

  Kingston grabs my hand, looking at me out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention to the screen. He probably knows I'm about to puke, knowing his dad's name was just added to the long list of people who have seen me performing oral while completely naked.

  Preston sits back on his desk and belts out a sinister laugh. “You stupid fucking girl. Of course, he’s in love with her! I knew that was going to happen the minute Charles decided to claim her.”

  “Then why didn’t you talk him out of it?” Peyton cries. “She’s ruining everything! I’m not going to lose twenty billion dollars because of some whore from the fucking projects!”
>
  I wince when Preston winds his hand back and slaps Peyton so hard, her face whips to the side. “Ten billion.”

  “Dayum,” Bentley whispers. “Dude’s savage.”

  Peyton rubs her cheek and sniffles. “What?”

  Preston takes his time rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. “You said you’re not going to lose twenty billion. I corrected you. You only have ten billion on the line. The other ten is mine.”

  This time I can’t hold back my gasp.

  Kingston squeezes my hand and mutters, “Fucking bastard.”

  “Quiet, dawg,” Bentley says. “I can’t hear.”

  “R-right,” Peyton stutters. “That’s what I meant. Ten billion.”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen.” Preston stands but makes no move to walk away. “You’re going to pull out of the race. You’re going to tell your lap dog to pull out of the race. If either one of you makes an attempt to touch Jasmine, I will take action. I don’t make empty threats, Peyton. If you don’t believe me, ask your mother; she’s been around long enough to know the consequences of crossing me.”

  “B-but, how am I supposed to get Kingston back? We have to be married before my next birthday and produce an heir before I’m twenty-one. If that doesn’t happen, we get nothing.”

  Preston starts undoing his belt buckle.

  “What the hell? Is he—?” I wave my hand at the screen, where Kingston’s dad is now unzipping his slacks.

  “Holy shit,” Bentley exclaims.

  I don’t want to watch, especially when Preston takes his dick out of his briefs, but I can’t seem to look away. His cock is two inches in front of Peyton’s face, and she doesn’t seem surprised in the least. The way the camera is angled, we can see every damn thing right now.

  “I’m well aware of the stipulations of your father’s will, Peyton. Don’t worry about my son; I’ll take care of it. Now...” Preston strokes himself. “I think it’s about time you apologize properly, don’t you?”