Page 10 of Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 1)
“I don't feel like getting high,” I say, reaching for his cigarettes. Vic's free hand, the one that was resting on my hip, snaps out and grips my wrist, stopping me.
“Don't you ever have any fun, Bernadette?” he purrs, his voice this viciously beautiful sound, like a predator on the hunt. But a smart predator, one that doesn't expend energy unless absolutely necessary, one that stalks. I shiver, even though I can feel the sun on my back, even with the hot, hot heat of Victor's body between my thighs. I'm not shivering because I'm cold; we both know that.
“No, actually, I don't,” I say, but Vic doesn't release my wrist. He stays right where he is, waiting, holding the joint between us. Our eyes are locked, my green ones on his endless black, sharp as obsidian.
“Take the joint, Bern, and chill out a little.” His words, they're not a request. Narrowing my eyes, I take the joint and inhale, watching the cherry crackle down the length of the paper. My lips and tongue tingle as I exhale, blowing that thick, hot smoke. There's no helping the coughing, but Vic laughs at me anyway. There's no pleasure in the sound either, just a cold, cruel analysis of the situation.
He has me by the balls, and he knows it.
The weed hits me quick, sweeping over my body and making my hands and feet tingle. I exhale without even realizing it, like I'm taking my first real breath in a long, long time.
“Ahh, there we go,” Vic says as I take another drag, passing the joint back to him. He stabs it out in an ashtray, and then grips my hips with two, big, inked hands and then quirks a cocksure little smile that would have me feeling all kinds of pissed off if I wasn't high. “Now, kiss me and show me you really want this.” I lean forward, but Vic stops me, grabbing my chin in tight fingers. His frown is all sorts of cold hell. “Don't half-ass this, Bernadette. A deal's a deal, and we take our shit very seriously.”
“Don't you think I know that?” I snap back at him, and his fingers tighten on my chin. It hurts, but I don't want Vic to see how much, so I keep my expression stoic.
“You are going to mewl beneath me,” he says, his voice neutral but threaded with a darkness that makes my throat feel tight. I'm playing with fire here, but I don't care if I get burned. I want the whole world to turn to ash. “I've been wanting to fuck you since ninth grade.”
“Pervert,” I grind out, but only because I don't want him to notice how hard my nipples are beneath my tank top. Vic smirks at me and releases my chin, leaning back in the chair.
“It must hurt you, to sit on the lap of the guy that made your life a living hell. It must just tear you up on the inside, a strong girl like you. Submitting isn't exactly your forte, if I remember correctly.”
“Why don't you just shut the fuck up, so we can get this over with? I haven't agreed to anything yet. Are you trying to get me to walk away from this deal?”
“I'm preparing you. It's a service I don't offer most of my clients. Be grateful, Bernadette.” Victor's face shuts down, and I see the full scope of his brutality. If I push this, if I kiss him and take this deal, I'll end up in his bed. My enemies will end up in the ground; my sister will be safe.
It's all I've ever wanted anyway. Well, the last half of it.
There's no need to drag this out any further: I made my decision this summer, and I'm sticking to it. My own inked fingers curl around his neck, and I try not to think too hard about this. It's just a kiss; I've had other kisses before.
But when I lower my lips to Vic's, and that hot slash of his mouth brushes up against mine, heat slices through me. He puts one of his big hands on the back of my neck and holds me there, his tongue sliding into my mouth and taking over. His kiss is a demand for more, the sealing of a deal, like some kind of fucked-up reverse fairy tale. This time, I'm not kissing the prince to become the princess, I'm tonguing the villain to guarantee the destruction of others.
Watching their downfall should be satisfying, cathartic in a way.
It's hard to think about that though when Vic is holding me so still, kissing me so deep, his cock lengthening beneath me. I can feel it through the black basketball shorts he's got on.
“Fuck me,” he commands, pulling back just enough so that his lips brush mine when he talks. My heart is pounding, but I knew this was coming. I said I'd be their plaything, didn't I? I knew what I was agreeing to.
