Page 42 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
He defiled my car; I’m going to defile his.
Leaning my head back against the seat, I work the hardened nub of my clit through my panties, the precariousness of the situation adding spice to my already heated blood. Widow can pretend to be disgusted by me all he wants, but there’s a reason he comes to the library and sits in that same goddamn chair every day.
It isn’t just to read. After all, he could read anywhere he wanted, couldn’t he?
I can’t close my eyes—God forbid I miss Widow coming out and seeing me in his car—but my lids droop as I slip two fingers beneath my underwear, pushing them inside my hungry cunt and feeling my silken walls clamp down.
All the while, I’m thinking of Widow and his hand wrapped around his cock, the way he stared at me and said, “How dare you?” as if he had any right to the high ground, caught with his dick out like some sort of sexual deviant.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I murmur, pushing my fingers deep and drawing them out, over and over again until I’m coming hard, liquid drenching my knuckles as my body pulses and milks itself. My mind is occupied with the smell of Widow—that black plum and woodsy pine scent—that permeates the interior of the car along with the memory of his amber eyes hard and defiant as he met my gaze. It isn’t often that somebody stands up to me. It turns me on, can’t lie about that.
I finish with a sharp little gasp, slumping back into the seat and then removing my wet fingers. I make sure to play with his steering wheel, his gear shift, the supple leather beneath my bare thighs.
Once I’m certain that I’ve left a similar enough gift to his, I climb out, lock the door, shut it, and head into the bathroom to wash up. When I get back to the library, I see that Widow’s still there.
He looks up at me for once and our eyes meet again. I smile at him and then proceed with my duties, making sure to bend down again so that he can see how wet my panties are now.
When I stand back up and turn to look at him, he’s gone, and I’m left wondering if he knew what I was up to all along.
Scarlett
After school, the girls—including Basti—and I meet up in our usual spot, an abandoned jail on the north side of town, to go over our plans. Since we can’t do our job properly until after dark, we chow down on burgers, fries, and cherry cokes from Wesley’s while we wait for the time to tick by.
See, ‘work’ for us has a very specific meaning.
Not a single one of us cares for the type of ‘work’ available to economically disadvantaged girls—except for maybe Lemon. There’s a shared sentiment among us that we’d rather die than end up ‘empowered’ for twenty bucks a fuck.
No thank you.
Instead, we play a little game with rich assholes on the highway. There are a lot of them nowadays, more than there used to be. In the past, it was more about getting lucky, waiting for hours on the crest near Coburg Road and hoping an Oak Valley Prep brat might come past.
With the influx of fresh blue bloods into Springfield and Eugene, there are plenty of juicy targets to prey on.
“Basti, you’re on lookout duty,” I say, and he nods.
“Yes, Queen,” he says, reaching up to ruffle his dark, wavy hair.
I turn to Nisha.
“I’ll take point,” I tell her, and she nods, climbing into her Lotus as I retreat to the Pantera. We’ve done this enough times that we ride like a well-oiled machine. Anyway, I’m sure I’m not the only who’s noticed that there are far less cops in this area than there used to be.
I haven’t seen anyone but Officer Molester since last week.
Huh.
Not my problem anyway. Less cops is good news for us.
I sit in my car, my phone in my hand, and I wait for a message from Basti. As soon he spots a suitable target, off we’ll go. Until then, I’m left to my own devices. Could be minutes, could be hours. I used to hate it, used to get edgy and let my nerves get the better of me, but nowadays, I find the alone time refreshing.
A text from an unknown number pops up on my phone, and my eyes widen at the picture of my bliss-ridden face inside Widow’s car. Who the fuck? I wonder, sitting up straight as I stare at the picture and grit my teeth.
Who took this? And if they’re attempting to blackmail me with it, they can get fucked. I’m the last person this sort of tactic would ever work on.
What are you up to, Force? is what comes through next. It takes me a second to figure it out, but then a lightbulb goes off and I wet my lips with my tongue.
