Page 24 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
“Six hearts,” he says, rubbing at his chin. It takes him a moment before he realizes I’ve asked him a question and he hasn’t responded. “All that I want is you, Bernie.” He grabs the envelope from me and shoves it into the left pocket of my dress before snatching me by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder.
“Vic!” I scream, but he ignores me, carrying me inside and kicking the doors to the outside closed behind him. “You never said I do,” I growl as he chucks me onto the bed, and I bounce briefly. His body is covering mine before I can take a single breath.
“I do,” he growls, biting my lower lip and making me moan. My fingers dig into the blankets underneath us as Vic undulates his body against mine. “You’re mine, Bernadette. You always have been.” He pauses and narrows his eyes, flicking them toward the bedroom door. “I should kill this David motherfucker.”
“Except, how many girls have you been with?” I ask, but really, I don’t want to know. Victor very slowly brings his attention back to me.
“I’m going to kill David,” he repeats, rather than answer me. “Then we can fuck in his blood.”
“Victor,” I warn, but the idea isn’t totally repugnant to me. My hands weave together behind his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. His tongue slides into my mouth, cracking the very small shields I still had up, opening me to him completely. Victor rocks his body against mine again, forcing my legs apart. The shimmery black fabric of the dress is like a shield between us, but that doesn’t stop him from running a hand up and underneath, fingers digging into my thigh. It hurts, but it also feels good too, the way he’s holding me like he owns me.
“I told you, Bernie: I need a way to let my demons out and you need a way to confront them. That’s what you’re going to get, the fucking demon inside of me.” Victor puts his lips against my ear and purrs this into me, making me thrash beneath him. I want more. All of him. Now.
Based on the feral expression taking over his face, I don’t think that’ll be a hard thing to convince him to do …Victor ChanningBernadette’s vows reverberate through my body, causing a seismic shift as I adjust my body against hers. Can she feel it, I wonder, the violence thrumming inside of me? I don’t want to share her with the rest of Havoc. Yet, I’m starting to feel like an animal backed into a corner. I get to make a choice: kill the other males after my female or … deal with them in a different way.
A growl escapes me as I drop my mouth to her neck, sucking on her skin and biting her just hard enough to make her cry out. It isn’t enough, so I bite harder, until she’s clawing at my bare back with her nails. She smells so sweet and soft to me, even though I know it’s an illusion.
My Bernadette Savannah Blackbird is one, tough bitch.
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpers, but she thrusts her pelvis against me, tilting her face to the side to give me better access. “Keep going.”
A sharp spike of lust shivers through me, and I find myself clawing at her dress, just to get it the fuck out of my way. Why did I want her to wear it again? Oh, that’s right, because she looks like a dark angel or a beautiful demon when she’s wearing it, not sure which exactly.
That day, the day after we got arrested by the Violent Gang Task Force, I got to see her in it for the first time.
Mmm.
If that isn’t a memory I’ll cherish until I meet an early grave, I don’t know what is.
“Tell him he can’t see it until the wedding,” Bernadette said, her voice groggy with sleep, her tone laced with irritation. “Not until I walk out the front doors of that goddamn creepy ass house.”
She couldn’t possibly know how scared I was though. Nah, not scared. Terrified. Shaken. Horror-struck. Hysterical.
If we didn’t have damn good lawyers on retainer, and a totally trumped-up charge made up by an angry daddy then … Don’t think that way, I tell myself, sitting up and pushing Bernadette’s dress up so I can see all of her. She hates it, being vulnerable and exposed beneath my dark stare, but I don’t give a shit. I need this; I need her.
Oscar keeps passing these little quips about how she needs a wax or some garbage. Really, I think it’s because he’s jealous. Because he dreams of her sweet, little cunt when he jacks himself off at night. As if he thinks I don’t notice the way his eyes follow her.
