Page 113 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
I can’t stop thinking about the way he came while fucking me atop his Mustang, how the sound of the word Ash falling from my lips like a burnt ember made him shudder and spasm in egregious ecstasy.
The fact that this guy, Alexei, who last came here with Aspen, is just sitting in his car with his headlights on is driving me nuts. Unreasonable rage fills me, and I chuck my beer bottle onto the ground, ignoring Jennifer as she scrambles to pick it up. I don’t allow littering at my track—not even from myself.
Basti stops talking as I move across the lot in a black halter jumpsuit and bright red open-toe heels. I bend low beside Alexei’s window and rap on it with my knuckles.
He very slowly turns his head to peer out the glass and then curls his lips at me—probably for touching his car with my poverty-stricken hand. I raise a brow as he lets out a deep sigh, removing his hands with their brown suede gloves from the wheel and then rolling the window down.
“Please step back at least three feet,” he informs me and, even though I’d rather be contrary and like, hock a loogie on him, I do as he asks. Because something just occurred to me and now that it’s eating away at my brain, I can’t shake it.
Alexei came to the track with Aspen. He’s a rich guy, isn’t he? So shouldn’t he have been invited to Lemon and Aspen’s engagement party next Friday? If so, does he need a date?
Because I need to talk to Lemon, and she’s blocked me on virtually everything at this point. Nisha, too. Basti is still in contact with her, but if I start communicating with her through him, she’ll cut him off, too, and I don’t want that.
There’s something fishy going on here, and I don’t like it.
The number one trick in an abusive asshole’s bag is this: isolate the victim from family and friends, block all other meaningful connections in their lives. That shit ain’t right. I don’t trust Aspen—even less so now that I fucked his skeevy ass—and I need to see Lem in person. Just one, last time.
If I got played by this rich boy douche, then Lemon’s an easy target, like shootin’ fish in a barrel. Likely, even if I see her in person, she won’t listen to me. But I can’t not try, can I?
“What do you want?” Alexei asks finally, when I just stand there like a crazy person, twisted up in my own thoughts. He studies me with those sea glass colored eyes, his mouth turned down in a severe frown, nostrils flared. He’s clearly uncomfortable with me standing here, even if I’m nowhere near to touching him or his car.
“What are you doing here?” I query, curious to see if he’ll actually give me an honest answer or not. Alexei glances in the direction of the track then shifts his gaze over to the road that leads to the parking lot.
“I was hoping to run into Aspen. He hasn’t been answering my calls.”
My blood spikes with adrenaline, and I wet my lips. The very sight of that causes Alexei to shrink back from me. But now that I’ve seen him in action, I’m not fooled. He’d be one tough mother to deal with in a fight, I’ll give him that.
“Are you and Aspen close?” I continue, hoping like hell that he’ll keep spilling valuable information. But no. Nothing’s that easy.
“Why do you care?” he asks, but not impolitely. It seems to be a legitimate question.
I put my hands on my hips and draw in a deep breath, tasting the fumes from the track, the earthy notes of the mud, and this almost clinical but oddly alluring scent from Alexei’s car. He smells like ivory soap and vanilla, and I’m living for it.
I lick the edge of my lip a second time, absurdly fascinated with the way Alexei’s skin ripples with revulsion. He’s hot as shit, I won’t lie. His face looks like it was carved from alabaster, his profile regal, nose straight and proud, and that mouth. I wonder what it would look like spread wide and suckin’ on my cunt?
Would it disgust him? I bet just the idea of it would make him shudder.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t ya?” I quip, and he recoils yet again before reaching out to roll up his window.
“You’re insufferably rude,” is the response I get, but I’m not ready for this interaction to be over, so I slam my hand down on the edge of the window and his green eyes widen in silent fury. Alexei snatches what looks to be a small sewing kit from the passenger seat.
A sewing kit? The fuck is he planning on doing with that?
“Remove your hand from my car or I’ll be forced to escalate the situation.”
