Page 52 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
I won them both and walked away with some juicy favors, a little bit of sordid gossip, and a handful of twenties. It was nice, to reassure myself that I’m as good as I always thought I was.
But I missed the challenge of Aspen Kelly.
I want to race him again.
This time, I’ll do it in my own car, and I won’t lose.
Not tonight though. I knew Bohnes was going to wreck me, seeing as I blew him off last Saturday. I could practically feel him all week, watching me from the shadows, waiting for his opportunity to strike.
I’ll hardly be able to stand after this, let alone get behind the wheel.
“Who says I’m not ready?” I challenge after a minute, after several hard swallows and deep breaths, finding my voice even though my body’s humming with dark pleasure. I’ve been spelled by Bohnes and his annoyingly deft hands, his ardent mouth, his filthy tongue.
My dress is now a simple fabric tube around my middle. I may as well be naked but for my heels. Still, it seems to annoy Bohnes as his tongue slicks down my bare skin. He growls at the fabric of the dress, skipping over it and then shoving it out of his way as he teases the slight valleys in my belly. It’s not like I’m ripped or anything—I have that soft feminine curve to my stomach—but I’ve got some definition, enough for him to trace with his mouth.
When Bohnes finds his way back to my inner thighs, he bites me so hard that it actually hurts—for real this time.
“Bohnes, stop,” I snap, my voice an authoritative whip that causes him to go still. He waits there for a minute, his mouth still latched to my skin, and then he pulls away with a popping sound. His lips are shiny and full, his lids droopy, his eyes dark with the promise of sex. “That hurt.”
“Did it?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. He looks down at the red mark, and then swipes his thumb gently across it. I’m surprised to feel a tingle of pleasure at the touch. “Should I do it again?”
“Fuck me,” I demand, and he laughs again, sitting up and reaching down for the fly of his leather pants. They’re just barely clinging to his muscular hips, threatening to slide down and reveal more of that dark hair leading down to his cock.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing, Scarlett Force?” he queries, his eyes lifting up in the direction of the track. He pauses for a single heartbeat before he drops his gaze to mine again, opening his pants and taking his already swollen erection into his hand. Blue veins stand out along the ghostly whiteness of his dick, the shiny pink head glossy with pre-cum. “You have a very narrow view of fucking, don’t you?”
“Shut your mouth and put your dick in me.” It’s a command, something that I’m generally used to giving. Bohnes doesn’t like it. I can see it in the way his lip curls, the way his fingers tighten around his dick as he gives it several hard tugs.
“Don’t talk to me like one of your lackeys,” he warns, shaking his head, white hair feathering across his forehead. His eyeliner is thick and dark tonight, almost ghoulish. He truly looks like something that, while pretty, is also possibly undead. “You can call me your fuckboy if you want—I’ll even be one for you. But I sure as shit am not going to be bossed around.”
He drops his palms down on either side of me, thrusting his hips forward so that his warm shaft slicks along my wet folds.
“So you don’t want to fuck me with your dick then?” I say, reaching up and putting my palm on his chest to shove him back. Our eyes meet, his narrowed to slits, his breath panting out between gritted teeth. He’s normally calm—almost disturbingly so. I’ve seen him pick up a Prescott kid by the neck and toss him across a table in the cafeteria without so much as a blink. No smile, no frown, zero expression of any kind.
This is something different, this primal rage that he’s displaying. Is it only me that brings it out of him? Has he behaved this way toward other girls in the past?
“Guess I’ll go find Widow …” I start, and Bohnes leans down, biting me again between my neck and shoulder at the same time that he drives into me, bottoming out as our pelvises slam together, knocking the breath out of me.
He doesn’t respond to my statement with words, just the sucking pressure of his mouth, the grazing of his teeth, the slick in and out of his body inside of mine. I’m still struggling to breathe past the stretch of him—he has a fucking monster cock—and digging my shoes into the dirt to brace myself.
