Page 14 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
I’m a senior this year, and if I don’t figure out where I’m going and what I’m doing, I might get stuck here.
“Do you know what I want?” Aspen asks, looking at me in such a way that I know precisely what it is that he’s interested in. Seen it before, many times. I’ve had dozens of men ask for my body as their reward for winning a race.
If I’m confident, I say yes.
I’m always confident.
So, screw it.
“You want to fuck me?” I ask with a long sigh, and Lemon’s eyes widen in disbelief.
The Aspen guy throws his head back, letting out this grating, genteel laugh that has my skin crawling. Always could smell a deviant from a mile away. He drops his gaze back down to me, rubbing at his chin with a hand decorated in too many rings.
“You read my mind, sweetheart,” he purrs as Lem’s expression takes on this cast of stricken betrayal. I try to meet her eyes, but she won’t look at me. Goddamn it. She must know that I have no interest in this guy, right?
I just want him off my track; this is the best way to accomplish that without inviting unnecessary trouble. If we refuse him outright, this guy will return with backup. Maybe even hired guns. Who knows? Anyway, the best way to get rid of a pompous rich kid is to kick his ass and send him scurrying off with his tail between his legs.
“Word on the town is that Prescott pussy is the best there is.” Aspen rakes his eyes over me again, tearing apart my clothes with his gaze. My blood might be boiling, but I remain stoic, raising a single brow at him as Nisha tries to catch my attention. She doesn’t want me to do this, but I’m going to anyway. She should know by now that I never back down from a challenge. “Not only that, but everyone says you’re the one to beat.” His dark eyes sparkle as he takes me in. “I do enjoy a challenge.”
“Prescott pussy is the best there is,” I agree, glancing over at Lem. I know she isn’t Aspen’s girlfriend; he knows she isn’t his girlfriend. But does Lemon know that? See what I mean? Nisha was wrong. Lemon might pretend to be tough—she can certainly handle herself in a fight, despite her small size—but her heart is raw and broken. She keeps looking for someone to put it back together.
Take it from someone who knows all about heartbreak: the only person who can cobble those jagged pieces together is you, yourself, and you.
“Alright, I’m in.” I glance back at Widow’s Stingray, wondering if I’m not getting too cocky here. With the Devil, I could take this asshole on easy. I’d crush him into the mud and drive right the hell over him.
But this is a new car, and it’s untested on the track.
Somehow though, I have a feeling that Widow knows his cars.
Screw it. I’m drivin’ the ‘Vette.
“Lem, can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask as Aspen lets his dark gaze shift over to her. He looks bored already. She really thought this guy was her ticket out of town? He’s not even a weekend pass.
“Sure,” she says, her voice tight, clipped. I look over at Nisha. “Give Aspen a rundown of the rules for me.”
“Yes, Queen,” she says, licking the edge of her mouth in annoyance. Lem moves away from Aspen as I reach out to grab her arm, aware of his eyes on us. I drag her a short distance away, over to where Bastian’s sitting in the Stingray as he chows down on a burger and fries.
I grab Lem by the shoulders and lean down to look into her eyes.
“Aspen Kelly, the Mayor’s son, that’s your hookup?” I ask as gently as I can. She won’t look at me, her lips pursed into a thin line. “Lem, come on. You know me. I’m not going to lose to this guy. I’d never agree to his challenge if I thought there was any chance in hell I’d have to screw a pervert like him.”
That causes her to whip her gaze back around to me as Bastian whistles under his breath and turns away, fiddling with the radio and starting up KMZI 66.6. “I Am the Stripclub” by Iggy Azalea is playing.
“No chance in hell, huh?” Lem asks with a bit of a scoff, tearing herself away from me. “Why don’t you go and find Bohnes then? Since he’s such a better prospect.”
The blood drains from my face as Basti whips his head around to stare at me.
“Bohnes?” he chokes out, but I ignore him, focusing on Lem instead as I release her shoulders and stand up straight. I’m five-seven without heels, five-ten with the boots I’m wearing. I tower over poor Lem. “What’s going on with Bohnes?”
