Page 31 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
After that, a little refresher, a little reminder every few months or so and I was left more or less alone.
Alone.
I’ve been alone for a very long time, before I was locked up even.
So I’m good at being by myself, at sitting quietly, at thinking, watching, waiting.
What I’m not good at is anticipating wild cards like Scarlett Force.
She stole my car. I should kill her for that. If she’d been quite literally anyone else, I might have. But the sight of her naked mouth as she ran her tongue over her lower lip, those thick, dark lashes, her long raven-black braid … From the very first second I saw her, I wanted to wrap it around her throat and use it as a leash to yank her to me.
I wanted to steal her mouth and claim it, make her bleed when I used too much teeth to kiss her.
Mostly, I want her to leave me alone.
I exhale softly, just enough to rustle the leaves in front of my face but not enough that the gossipy idiot waiting outside the door to the warehouse will notice. I need to get my car back, but Scarlett is careful. Absurdly careful. I haven’t been able to tail her. But this girl, Jennifer?
It was so easy that I’m still suspicious.
Is this thing a trap? Scarlett’s crew has a reputation at Prescott. Not that I’ve spoken to many—or really any—of my fellow students. But you don’t have to talk to anyone to know what the word on the street is.
The word here is: don’t fuck with Scarlett.
A frown creases my mouth as I watch the door to the warehouse open. In Jennifer goes, and then I’m up and creeping through the bushes around to the rear of the building. There’s a dirty, cracked window there that I crouch below, listening to see if I can’t pick up a thread of conversation from inside.
Instead, I hear the distinctive sound of two people fucking. Moans, whimpers, the wet noise of two bodies slamming together.
Even better.
I rise up just enough to peer through the window. This is an office, and while it’s attached to the rest of the warehouse, the door that separates the two rooms is closed. I stand up and head back for the front of the building.
First time today that I’ve seen less than a half-dozen people hanging around here. I imagine they’re all at the track.
The track.
It’s one of the few reasons that finding out I’d be forced to attend school—or risk being put back behind bars—wasn’t the death sentence I thought it’d be.
Car culture here at Prescott is rich. Can’t be bought. Can’t be beat.
I want some of that, even if I’d rather dig myself a hole than interact with anyone at that school for any reason.
I walk right up to the door on the left side of the warehouse, finding it locked and secured with a heavy chain. I heft up the bolt cutters I brought with me, muscles and teeth clenching as I squeeze them around the bar of the lock rather than the links. It’s a small piece of metal, but even then, it takes some manhandling to get it to break.
I unravel the chains quickly, not bothering to hide the sound. Speed is more important than silence at this point. Especially since I can hear that girl Jennifer screaming all the way over here. The edge of my lip curls up in frustration.
Sex.
It disgusts me.
Which is one of the reasons I better keep my distance from Scarlett. I’ve never been interested in sex of any kind from any person. Not once. Then I end up at that track watching the school’s resident ghoul slam his cock into Scarlett’s pretty pink pussy …
With a growl, I throw the chains aside and bend down, picking the remaining locks on the door like it’s nothing. I push my way into the building only to find a sea of gorgeous classic cars, freshly washed and gleaming under the fluorescent bulbs from above.
Ah, so this is the Crimson Crew’s secret hiding spot, eh? I’ll admit, as easy as Jennifer was to tail, this is a brilliant hiding place. The warehouse is in a lumberyard—a functional lumberyard—with thousands of employees, a proper gatehouse, security guards, you name it.
I mean, they can’t be all that good considering I snuck my ass in here, but still, smart. I wonder what her crew pays for the right to use this place?
First thing I do is use the chain from the front door and the new lock in my pocket to seal the door from the office. I can still hear the two idiots on the other side banging it out.
Sex turns people into idiots. It destroys their minds. It makes them do stupid shit like take their dick in their hand and jack themselves off while a girl with a scooped waist and round hips, heavy breasts, and an angry moue watches from a few careful feet away.
