Page 17 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
I can only imagine how much that it hurt.
“You got my little gift?” he asks me, and I nod. On Wednesday, Bohnes paused next to my desk during the only class we share together—fourth period—and dropped a piece of paper onto the surface.
His STI test results showing me that he’s clean.
Since he knows I was a virgin prior to him, and I’ve been taking the pill since I was fifteen to deal with some skin problems … well, here we are. I’m going to let him fuck me bareback for the first time.
“I’ve been dreaming about this all week,” he tells me, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes like he’s in dark bliss. “Thinking of that blood, of how tight and hot you’ll feel wrapped around me …”
He opens his eyes again as I turn away. I don’t want to look at him. This whole encounter feels cheap and dirty anyway. Might as well keep it that.
Part of me wonders if maybe this wasn’t the best idea, to have sex right before a race in a brand-new car with an opponent that I would absolutely hate to lose to. Not only would my pride be irreparably wounded, but I’d have to let that Aspen dude fuck me.
No way.
I cannot let that happen.
“Shut your fucking mouth and—” I start, but then Bohnes is right there, grabbing my pants and shoving them down my hips. He isn’t nice or considerate or kind when he takes my pelvis in one cruel hand and forces his cock in past my tight muscles. I bite my lip to hold back any involuntarily sounds as he slams his hips into me, burying himself balls-deep.
I’m barely able to stay standing, the hot, velvety feel of his skin against my silken insides is almost too much to bear. The whole encounter seems different this way, more personal. I should’ve made him use a condom.
He grabs my hair again, using my head as leverage to pull my back to his front as he pushes us both against the trunk of the tree. The bark scrapes my bare belly beneath my half-shirt as he uses the tree’s distinct lack of give to push deeper, harder. Doesn’t help that my pants are caging my legs, keeping them fairly close together.
Bohnes pauses briefly to reach up with his right hand, forcing my head to turn to the side. He drops his own head down, capturing my mouth with dizzying force and knocking our teeth together. The move is purposeful as he takes advantage of my prone position to plunder my mouth with his wicked tongue.
He kisses me so fiercely that I can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if he has a thing for me beyond sex. Doesn’t act like it most days, that’s for damn sure. The first night we hooked up, I remember standing here with legs like jelly, my panties torn off and tossed to the pine-needle strewn ground.
There was blood on my thighs, a delicious soreness at my core, and a sense of feeling … lost. Bohnes looked down at the condom, blue eyes flaring, before he stripped it off and put it right in the pocket of his skeleton-patterned hoodie.
“Stay safe, Force,” he breathed out, and then he left.
He left, and yet, the next night, I found myself waiting out here just in case. He came to me then, too, and I told him my rules.
“If you’re going to fuck me, you better not be fucking anybody else. The moment you do, it’s over between us. Permanently. And if you lie to me about it, I will cut your balls off.”
I’m sure that Bohnes understood me. We ride on the same wavelength, this dark twisted siren song that makes us both just a little unstable, a little bit violent.
So does he like me? I don’t know. I don’t even care.
I’m such a sucker for a fuckboy psycho.
When Bohnes releases my mouth, I suck in a huge chestful of air as he shoves my face against the tree, the bark scraping my skin raw. Even as he’s doing that, I’m pushing back against him, meeting his deep, wild thrusts with my own.
He doesn’t worry about making me come. Not sure that he even cares. I reach my own hand between my legs, working my clit with angry, violent thrusts. I’m not even nice to myself. I don’t like nice. Nobody around here does.
This is the southside, bitches.
“So tight, so hot, dripping all over my fucking balls,” he grinds out, hissing in my ear. “You’re the perfect fuck, Scarlett. You know that? Absolutely perfect.”
It sounds like a compliment, but I’m not even sure that it is. Doesn’t matter. His voice is making me wild. I want him to keep talking, want his warm lips near my ear.
“Tell me again,” I command, my voice whipping out between my feral moans in a very clear and distinctive difference. Bohnes pauses and then goes completely still. I’m certain that he’s wondering if this is worth it, if he wants to listen to me.
