Page 106 of Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 5)
My body spasms around his hand, a groan slipping past my lips that I can’t control. But there’s certainly no rest for the wicked as he shoves up to his feet, grabs me by the skirt, and yanks me forward. I’m tossed onto the bed, face-first, and then Vic is doing exactly what he wants to do by mounting me from behind.
His cock is scalding and almost too thick at this angle, making me scream as he drives into me hard and fast. That’s when his control finally reaches its tipping point, and he fists a hand in my hair, yanking my head back and fucking me with just a fraction of that violent, unrelenting rage.
The insistent friction of his cock burrowing into me, and the wild, masculine sounds he makes sends me over the edge yet again, and then I’m coming clamped around him, my muscles working his body until he spills his seed inside of me.
With a final thrust and one, last agonizing groan, Victor collapses on top of me, breathing hard and curling his fingers through my own on either side.
“Feel better?” I whisper, and he gives a dark chuckle, his huge body crushing me into the mattress just the way I like. I could live in this position, with him still inside of me, pinning me down like a butterfly who has no wish to escape.
“You always make me feel better, Mrs. Channing,” he murmurs, nuzzling against the side of my head before climbing to his feet and leaving me feeling cold and needy and irritated all at once. How is it fair that I have to conquer a whole new school today when I just became queen of my last one? How is it fair that I can’t spend all day in bed with these boys when that’s the only thing in the world I feel like doing right now? “Come on, wife. I’ll help you clean the cum off, so you don’t have it running down your legs on the first day of class.”
“I seriously fucking hate you sometimes,” I grumble as I push myself up into a standing position and find myself facing down Victor Channing the way I did in the hall that first day of school, when he called me a ballsy bitch, and I snapped right back at him. He captures my chin in his fingers and stares me down with such a genuine look of love and affection that it’s impossible for me to say anything snarky or cranky or distinctly south Prescott in nature.
“Well, I seriously fucking love you all of the time,” he tells me, and I groan, letting my lids fall closed because I just know that I’m not getting out of this room without saying it back.
“I love you, too, you fucking asshole,” I grumble, and he chuckles, planting one last kiss on my overheated mouth before sending me off to face an entire school full of spoiled rotten prep school brats.
Because I’m just that much of a south Prescott ho, I decide to slip a tampon in instead of showering down, so I can carry a little piece of Victor Channing around with me all goddamn day long.Alright, let’s do this.
I push open the doors to my first class of the day and I swear to you, there isn’t a student in that room who doesn’t turn to look at me. First contact. Earth has finally been visited by aliens.
Trinity’s expression doesn’t change as she takes in the ring that’s now sitting pretty back on my finger. Take a good, long look bitch, I think, wondering if she ever really wanted to fuck my man or if it was just her brother she was into. For all I know, she’s just an extremely talented actress.
Good thing I’m more than familiar with those. Oscar is a master thespian, of course.
I move down the steps toward where her majesty sits, pausing beside her and planting my hands on my hips. I’ve rolled the waistband of my skirt up the way the Prescott High cheerleaders do before they kick the Fuller girls’ asses and tear out their extensions with nails that could make Michelangelo cry. That shit is art.
“Mind if I sit here?” I ask as the teacher—this uptight man in a gray suit—stares at me like I’ve just taken a shit on his classroom floor. I smack my gum, content to wait in silence as Trinity takes me in from my feet to my bloodred hair to my eyes, half-lidded and lazy. I’m not afraid of her, and I’m certainly not afraid of any asshole in this school.
“If you must,” is Trinity’s only response as I slide onto the bench seat beside her. The room is tiered, like an auditorium or a gymnasium or something. The teacher stands up front like he’s on a stage, shaking his head as he goes back to his lesson plan. He doesn’t bother to introduce me to the class, doesn’t even acknowledge me. Glad to see that classism runs thick in this place.
