Page 119 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
Now that, that is funny as hell.
I smile and Nisha narrows her eyes. When I turn the expression on Bastian, he actually takes a step back.
“Trust me: whatever plans that bastard has for Lemon, caring about her is not a part of it.” I yank the Devil’s door open and slide in.
On my way home, I can’t keep my tongue from tracing the faint taste of cherry from my lower lip or my mind from straying back to Alexei.
Never been on a date with a rich dude before.
Just hope the night doesn’t end in blood.
I mean, I’ll do my best but … not makin’ any solid promises either way.
If I get the chance to kill Ash, I may very well take it.
Scarlett
Nothing about my sordid night with Aspen or my plans with Alexei can stop me from wearing yet another sexy new pair of panties to the library on Monday.
Widow shows up as he always does and I realize that, after talking to my librarian girls—Agnes and Mildred—he’s actually supposed to be helping me with my duties here. He has the same ‘class’ that I do. That is, a period called Administrative Assistant: Helping Hands. It’s meant to teach ‘marketable skills to students in a real-world setting’. Some long ago leftover from a grant Prescott High received once upon a time.
Like, uh, as if the schoolboard hasn’t heard of eBooks? Real-world library skills aren’t the most ‘marketable skills’ in the world. Why not teach us the Dewey Decimal system while they’re at it?
Anyway, this is Prescott High. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what year it is. Based on our textbooks, notebooks, pencils, square TVs from the last century, and the fact that our instructional videos are titles like “Reefer Madness” (from 1936, mind you), you wouldn’t be remiss in guessing it’s the early nineties.
I mean, a relatively poor school in the early nineties.
“You’ve been sitting here reading everyday while I spend my time shelving books?” I ask, pausing in front of Widow with a huge stack in my arms. He lifts his gold eyes up to my face, dropping his attention down, to the short hemline of my skirt. When he returns that look up to my eyes, he quirks a humorless half-smile.
“The librarians,” he begins, setting his book aside. Looks like an alien romance this time. What the fuck else would have a surprisingly sexy looking spiderlike dude on the front? Kinky. Ensnared by Tiffany Roberts, apparently. Widow stands up, and I’m once again reminded of not only how tall he is, but also how wide. He leans down and puts his mouth very near my ear. “They said you were in charge in here, that I should wait for your orders. Said you don’t like people to get in your way.” He turns his head, so that his breath feathers against my neck and I shudder in response. “Besides, it seemed like you were enjoying our routine. I read, you bend over, I stroke your wet panties.”
I move away from him, so that I can get a good look at his expression. Unfortunately, he seems allergic to actually showing his emotions on his stupidly handsome face. Widow reclaims his seat in the chair, picking up his novel as I look down at the heavy stack in my arms.
Does this cocksucker think I’m too dick-drunk to clap back on his ass?
Hah.
I chuck the books into his lap, and he lets out a sharp grunt, collapsing forward as he drops his own novel on the floor. I bend low so that this time, it’s my mouth near his ear. Pretty sure I nailed his nuts good with the forty pounds of books I was carrying.
“Get up and start shelving things in the Human Health and Sexuality section. I don’t like to touch those ones. Too sticky.” I step back and turn away. I don’t expect him to explode out of his chair and wrap his arms around my waist.
Widow yanks me back against him, smelling like sugary fruit, heavy and plump in the last days of spring. There’s a woody scent there, too, something that reminds me of wet earth fresh from a new rain.
“How dare you,” he repeats, the same words from that day at the track when I found him with his dick in his hand. He then rubs his slightly stubbled face against the side of my neck. “You make me absolutely sick, Scarlett Force. I’m disgusted by you.” He slides his hands up my rib cage, as if he might actually touch my tits, and I wiggle my ass back against him, feeling the proof that his words are a lie.
“Don’t feel all that disgusted to me,” I purr, arching my back and reaching back to dig my fingers into his hair. My entire body is on fire. If Widow were to bend me over this chair in the corner, shove my skirt up, and fuck me raw, I wouldn’t complain.
