Page 121 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
I want something better for myself, too. I refuse to rest until I get it.
I forget about Widow for the remainder of the day, but I do look for Bohnes. I’m so damn horny that, even though I know he barely acknowledges me within the walls of this school, I figure I might try to pull him into the bathroom for a follow-up fuck.
When he doesn’t show up to our fourth period class, I figure he must be off conducting business for someone else. Too bad. My nipples are diamond points. Add a little water and I could cut granite. And my cunt? Let’s just say that I’m glad I wore pants today. Might be dripping down my thighs if I had on another scandalous skirt.
For lunch, I sit on the hood of my car and my girls lounge on the steps in front of the school. One of the freshman girls brings me a paper bag lunch that she made herself, and I offer up a sultry smile. She giggles and takes off as I dig into it, finding a Japanese-style bento box inside. It’s got rice, meat, veggies cut into the shape of flowers.
The whole thing makes me think of Aspen, and I frown.
Aspen.
What a mistake. I hate myself for giving into him. What the hell was I thinking?
I dig into the food with the provided chopsticks, chewing absently as I stare up at the school. Only thing worse than a Prescott boy is a rich one, and I broke all of my own rules. Part of me wants to tell Lemon that I banged her fiancé, but I know that I won’t. Wouldn’t change her mind anyhow. She’s too used to guys cheating on her and treating her like shit.
The food, at the very least, is dope as hell. I finish it and then get one of the other girls to return the plastic box and chopsticks that came with it.
By the time I get to the library, I’ve practically forgotten about Widow. My mind is too busy imagining possible scenarios for the party tomorrow.
“Whatever you said to him on Monday, it worked,” Agnes tells me, patting my shoulder and giving my cardigan a fond look. She’s wearing one, too, but our styles are just a tad different. Hers is long-sleeved and falls past her hips; it’s the color of avocados, and I’m pretty sure she told me the last time she wore it that her grandmother bought in the seventies.
Mine, it’s a mid-riff style cardigan, bright red, and it’s layered over little else but a black bra and paired with another pair of cigarette pants and wedges. My belly is showing as are my double belly button piercings.
The two of these things are not alike.
“It worked?” I repeat, moving away from Agnes as she gestures in the direction of the Human Health and Sexuality section. There Widow is, shelving books with so much force that you’d think they owed him money. He doesn’t look at me, but he does go still when I pause at the end of the aisle, blocking out some of the light.
He stays frozen for a minute before he continues with the cart of books beside him.
Huh.
Well, good on him, I guess.
I ignore him, going about my own tasks. About halfway through the period, I’m in the darkest, most private corner of the library, and I hear footsteps behind me. I turn away, focusing on the endcap and sliding the last three books into place.
Widow’s footsteps don’t slow or pause and then, his hot hand is sliding across my belly. He yanks me back against him, breathing hard against the side of my neck. He licks and sucks on my ear, shifting his attention to my throat as my knees get weak and I nearly collapse back against him. He stops that from happening by pushing me forward, crushing my body between his and the bookshelf.
Both of his hands slide up, pulling apart the buttons on the front of my cardigan and finding my tits. He squeezes and kneads them with powerful fingers, teasing the nipples through the black lace of my bra.
I bite my lower lip to keep the sounds I want to make as contained as I possibly can, but holy shit … Holy shit.
“Widow,” I groan as he sucks on my neck, grinding his body against my ass. With my wedges on, and my back arched, that puts his erection right between my cheeks. I want him to undo his pants and tear mine down, rut me right here and now.
Instead, he takes his time kissing me, breathing on me, making these needy male sounds that have me reaching my own hand down to flick open my pants. I slide my fingers underneath my panties and find the plump flesh of my clit, rubbing it mercilessly as Widow grinds into me, working my breasts with his calloused hands. Paired with the fire he’s trailing down my neck with his tongue, I’m lost.
