Page 85 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
To get the pin, they have torture it outta you.
Or else … they have to be Kellin Bohnes.
He unlocks the phone easily, finds his number and stares at it for a moment, and then unblocks himself—but not before changing his name in my contacts to My Dark Love Bohnes.
Hilarious.
“How the hell do you know my pin?” I ask him, but then, there’s a reason everyone at Prescott High pays Bohnes to do dirty work. He knows everything. He sees everything. He will do anything for the right price.
For the thing I asked help with two years ago, I should’ve had to pay a lot more than I did. I’m starting to think the fifteen-hundred in cash he requested was just bullshit.
“Here.” He offers my phone back and, just for good measure, I make sure to swing the knife and catch him across the arm, drawing a small, thin line of blood, before I remove my phone from his hand.
“Now you have an unblocked number as well as a warning. Fuck off, Bohnes.”
I start to turn away when he grabs me yet again, hands on my hips, and puts his lips near me ear.
“You invited me, Scarlett, now didn’t you?”
I did, and we both know it, but that doesn’t mean I can let him walk all over me either.
“You’re just a fuckboy, Bohnes.”
“So you keep saying,” he tells me, and then he releases me with another laugh. I notice that his car—that gorgeous black ‘69 Chevelle—is parked on the curb right in front of my house.
He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was here; he was just testing me.
“Send the Kelly boy home,” he tells me, walking backward as I throw a dark glare over my shoulder. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”
Bohnes turns around, climbs into his car, and peels out of the neighborhood with the smell of hot rubber and bullshit.
“Cocky asshole,” I murmur, swiping the bit of blood off my knife and onto my sweater. I head back into the house to find Alexis sitting at the table across from Aspen.
“We’re done here,” I tell him, gesturing with the knife again. “Get out of my house.”
“Aren’t you even going to say thank you for the box?” he inquires, but I’m sure he can tell by the expression on my face that I’m not.
“If someone does you a favor, you owe them a thank you,” Alexis blurts, rather unhelpfully, and then she looks around, searching for … God only knows what. “Where did your boyfriend go?”
“Again, not my boyfriend, just a fuckboy.” I’m looking right at Aspen when I say that, letting him know with my expression that he won’t even be allowed to be that much to me, not while he’s dating and screwing Lemon. Not ever since he screwed Lemon. I don’t do sloppy seconds.
“He’s your fuckboy, too?” she asks, glancing over at Aspen and likely wondering how someone like me would ever let a rich guy put his cock in me. His tongue, maybe, but not his cock.
“He’s nothing. Leave. Now.” I stab the tip of the knife into the already worn and scratched surface of the table as Aspen rises to his feet. He starts to move past me, letting his mouth linger disturbingly close to my ear.
“Walk me out?” he queries, and I tear the knife from the table, following him to the front door and onto the porch. His dark eyes find my mouth and hold there, but if he thinks I’m going to repeat what happened last week—which was for Bohnes’ benefit more so than anything else—then he’s a colossal moron. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve been obsessing about your mouth. Care to wrap it around my cock?”
“Care to get on your knees and pleasure me with your tongue?” I query right back, and that gives him pause, as if he’s actually thinking about it.
“Okay,” he agrees, shrugging his shoulders, and then he’s getting to his knees, and I’m moving back against the door. He looks up at me, running his tongue along his upper lip. “Let me suck you off, Scarlett. You’ll like it.”
Without another word, I turn and step inside the house, slamming the door behind me and putting my back to it. I stay where I am, gripping the knife hard, my eyes closed, and I wait for the sound of his Mustang before I turn and check out the window to make sure that he’s gone.
“Are you alright?” Alexis asks, coming up to stand beside me with a fresh bowl of popcorn in her arms. When she looks at me like that, with wide eyes and an innocent sort of facial expression, it’s hard to stay angry. “You look like you just saw a ghost. It isn’t Halloween yet, you know?”
“I know,” I agree, looking down at the knife as I try to come to terms with what I almost just did. That is, I almost shoved my pajama pants down my hips, grabbed a handful of Aspen’s silky black hair, and thrust my cunt into his eager face. I even fantasized about putting my knife to his throat and threatening him to make me come or else. Shit. I need to keep those sorts of impulses—the ones that seemed to come to life more fully after the accident—tamped down. “But tonight has been terrifying nonetheless.”
