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Chapter 1-Drew


“Wet for me, baby girl?” 

The neon light flashed through the curtained windows. And it provided just enough glow that I could make out Hot Guy’s face as he maneuvered me toward the back of the van. All dark hair and perfect jawline, a smirk that promised to make all my problems disappear—of which I had a list a mile long. One look from him had been nothing short of a siren call to a lonely girl needing to feel wanted for just a few moments. So here I was. In a van. In a bar parking lot, letting his filthy words replay through my head while he grabbed my hips and kissed my throat. Wet for me, baby girl…

“You say that to all the girls?” I asked, then felt him smirk against my skin while he worked the strap of my dress from my shoulder. 

“Only the ones I wanna fuck…” 

No matter how hot his words had me, I was not actually going to screw him. Nope—although, his lips were extremely persuasive. 

My legs bumped the back seat. A moment of doubt crept in as he lowered me to the bench. Though I knew I was probably one in a long line of girls he’d seduced and brought out to this van, I couldn’t quite find the will to care. In my defense, he might have been the hottest guy I’d ever seen, so if I were ever going to have a one-off moment of weakness, he was totally worthy. His hand roamed over my thigh, then beneath my skirt, his pure electric touch tracing me through my underwear. No guy had ever had this effect on me. And I wanted more.

“Damn,” he mumbled against my throat before pulling my panties to the side. “You’re soaked.” 

His finger slipped inside me, crooking. The flood of sensation that fired through me took any resolve I had to not bang him and threw it right out the curtained van window. 

“I’m not fucking you,” I said in a rush, and I wasn’t sure if that declaration was meant for him or me. 

“Not gonna fuck me, huh?” His finger worked deeper. 

Arrogant prick. He absolutely thought this was a done deal. Not like I was giving him much reason to think otherwise, but still. 

“So, you came out to the van to play a game of ‘get to know you?’ Because I’d say, this is probably a damn good way to get to know someone.” He slipped another finger inside. Pressing. Pushing. Driving me crazy. “Wouldn’t you?” His mouth was on my stomach now, working lower and lower.

I was so screwed. “I…”

“Or did you come out here to ask me my name and favorite color?

I hesitated for a minute, trying to form words. “Name,” I finally choked out, fully aware I probably should have asked that before now. “What’s your name?” 

“Bellamy.” He spread my legs, then settled between them, locking eyes with me as he nipped at the inside of my thigh. “What’s yours?”

I sure as hell wasn’t giving him my name, and the first name that sprung to mind was my best friend’s. “Genevieve.” Okay. That was bad...

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” I lied, fighting a moan as his lips worked higher. Okay, I was done talking, or should I say, lying. “Any more questions?”

“Yeah.” His gaze locked with mine, and he removed his fingers. “How good do you taste?” Then slipped them between his lips on a groan. And that one dirty move was enough to absolutely, one hundred percent, seal my fate. 

Within seconds, my underwear had been thrown somewhere onto the floorboard and his warm tongue was on me, my hands in his hair, my hips grinding against his face as a wave of bliss crashed over me so hard, I could barely draw in a breath. It wasn’t just an orgasm; it was an awakening, one that had my thighs clamped around his head, my body trembling, and my heart slamming against my ribs. 

“So soon, baby girl?” He sat up, smirking as he reached for his belt. 

Someone banged the outside of the van. “Hey, fucker!” a guy shouted. “We gotta problem…Psycho bitch is on the hunt. I repeat, little eagle. Psycho bitch is on the hunt. Over.”

Bellamy groaned, still fiddling with his belt. “Tell her to fuck off!” 

A girl was looking for him—one that his friend was keeping a lookout for, while he fooled around with another girl in his van? Jesus Christ, I was an idiot. Sitting up, I tugged my skirt back into place, then rummaged through the crumpled papers and music magazines littering the floorboard in search of my underwear. 

Another bang sounded over the van door. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Bellamy lowered his zipper like an asshole who expected me to still touch his dick. “I heard you!”

“Wow.” Forget the underwear. With a shake of my head, I opened the van door and came face to face with the guitarist from the band that had played earlier. His fist was lifted, ready to pound the side of the vehicle again. 

“Damn, Bellamy,” he said, giving me a quick once over. “This one’s hot.”

On an annoyed huff, I brushed past him then threw a middle finger over my shoulder, the steady click of my heels bouncing off the beat-up cars surrounding me as I stormed across the parking lot. On my list of recent bad decisions, this had quickly climbed to the top. 

I rounded the corner of the bar, stopping at my car when the high-pitched shriek of Bellamy’s name echoed through the night. I glanced back just in time to catch a curvy blonde chuck something at him. Too bad she missed, I thought as I sank behind the wheel and cranked the engine. My headlights shined over the silhouettes in the back lot when I peeled off in a squeal of tires. At least, I’d never have to see that guy again. It wasn’t that I’d expected anything from a quick hookup—I wasn’t stupid, but was it too much to ask that a guy not make me that skank he cheats on his girlfriend with?

I maneuvered down the narrow roads, speeding over potholes while the events of the last few weeks played out in my head. 

Kicked out of boarding school—sent to this shithole town to live with a father who was too busy with his business trips to even be bothered by my existence. The only communication I’d had with him since I'd arrived had been a series of emails—the latest of which came through earlier tonight—but I had been too busy getting suckered by Bellamy’s smile to read it. 

When I pulled into the empty driveway, my stomach sank at the thought of walking into the dark, empty monstrosity and being all alone once again. That was the very thing that had driven me to that bar tonight and right into Bellamy’s eager arms. But I still didn’t feel any better, so I stalled, braving the email my father had sent as my car idled on the drive.



Attached is your new school syllabus. You have orientation on Monday at p.m.. I’ve already spoken to Eddie, and he’s changed your shift.

William Morgan

CEO Darth Enterprises


Never mind that I’d received the same sign off as his secretary...or that he’d been oh so accommodating to have changed my schedule at the shitty drive-thru he’d secured me a job at. I clicked on the attachment and opened the syllabus with Dayton High typed in bold at the top. I blinked. No, this was a mistake. I was supposed to go to Barrington Prep. Not the public school. I'd been through the neighboring town of Dayton. Once. Last Easter, when I was here on break, a road had been closed and the diversion led straight through that shit hole. The place was awful. Street after street of run-down motels and pawn shops. Graffitied, boarded-up houses. The ones that weren’t boarded up looked like they needed to be condemned. And the high school? Olivia, one of the few girls here I knew, said Dayton was basically a prep school for prison. What the hell was my dad thinking? As the sense of horror crept over me, I imagined how smug my father would be if he could see me now, and I knew then that it definitely wasn’t a mistake. This was another one of his punishments.




Chapter 2- Bellamy

Two days later


The halls of Dayton High slowly thinned out. The bang of lockers closing grew quiet. 

I took the copies of the history exam I’d stolen earlier from Weaver’s class and tucked them into my back pocket before slamming my locker door. Kids paid me ten bucks a copy, and this was Dayton. Crap like this was the only way I survived. 

I skirted through a group of students gathered outside the library, catching up with Hendrix and Wolf to head to our routine after-school activity—detention. 

“Hey, Bell,” Hendrix nudged me. A shit-eating grin spread over his face, and Wolf shook his head. “Check this. Betty Newman—” his words fell short when Nikki strutted past in her cheerleading practice shorts and tank, glaring at me like she’d slit my jugular if she could. “Whoa…” Hendrix’s gaze followed her as she rounded the corner. “Pepperoni Nips is looking at you like she wants to hack off your dick and shove it up your asshole.”

Wolf chuckled. Nikki acted like a woman scorned, but we’d never dated. Never talked on the phone. It was a random, drunken hookup gone wrong. One I was still paying for.

“No shit,” I said. “She followed me out to Nash’s van last weekend when I was trying to hook up with some hot-ass girl. And she lost her shit.” 

“Wait.” Hendrix elbowed me. “Who’d you hook up with?”

The hottest girl I’d ever laid eyes on in my life. A girl that still had me thinking of her two days later… “Some rich girl,” I said, leaning against the cinder block wall outside the lunchroom.

“A rich girl?” A devious glint sparked to life in Hendrix’s eyes. “From Barrington?”

Maybe she’d gone to Barrington, but seeing as how she was twenty-one... “Don’t know, man. She’s older.”

Hendrix punched my shoulder. “I hate you. Hooking up with cougars and shit.”

“Twenty-one is not a cougar,” Wolf said.

“Whatever, man. Still older. It’s fine, because, like I was saying… Betty Newman.”

Wolf sighed, slapping a palm over his face. “Here we go about Betty…She’s in band, Hendrix. She plays the tuba. She’s like—” 

“Exactly, man. She’s in band. Haven’t you seen that movie about all those band kids that get freaky with their band instruments?” Hendrix flattened himself to the lunchroom doors, crotch-thrusting with a laugh. 

Wolf leaned in beside me. “Is he talking about an actual movie or porn or what?”

Hendrix moved away from the doors with a scowl. “American Pie, you uncultured cocksucker. Band kids are into some kinky shit.” Then he clapped a hand to my shoulder, staring me dead in the eye like he was about to hand over some life-changing revelation. “Betty Newman takes it in the ass instead of the cooch.”

I knocked his hand away. “So?”

“So?” Hendrix gaped for a second. His gaze pinged between Wolf and me. “The fact that you just said so, disappoints me, Bell.”

Mrs. Smith parted the sea of students crowding the hallway. “Outta the way.” She unlocked the door, chugging a thermos everyone knew was filled with vodka, and students begrudgingly filed in. 

“Sit your back ends down and be quiet,” she grumbled. “Think about whatever bullshit you did to end up in here.” Her purse hit the table with a thud before she sank to a stool, thermos already halfway to her lips. “No talking. Just reflecting.”

Reflecting. Half the kids in here had been arrested more than once. No way in hell detention would make any of us reflect on anything. It was Dayton. There wasn’t shit to reflect on.



Five minutes into detention, I’d made a quick eighty bucks from the copied tests, and Hendrix had talked some band girl into sending him a picture of her tits, which was why his phone was currently shoved in my face. I slapped his hand away just as the cafeteria doors creaked open, and Hendrix let out a catcall. 

Still in her short-shorts from cheerleading practice, Nora Locke stood at the door, propping it open with her hip. “And this”—she waved an unenthusiastic hand across the room— “is the cafeteria. The food’s disgusting. So, don’t expect much. Everything about this school is shit.”

When she went to move back into the hall, I noticed a girl beside her. Dark hair. Hot-pink dress. Sexy as hell. It was just a glimpse, but a girl as hot as Genevieve—all it took was a glance to recognize her.

Nora was the ambassador, and the only reason she ever gave someone a tour was if they were unfortunate enough to be transferred. Twenty-one my ass. If that girl were about to start at Dayton, she was as good as mine, and my dick knew it because he rose to attention. 

“Is that fresh meat?” Hendrix stared at the door as it swung closed behind the two girls. “Oh shit. Did you see her, Bell?”

I’d seen her all right. Tits and pussy and all…

“It’s like manna from heaven.” Hendrix raised his hands in makeshift praise. “Fresh meat this late in the school year!” 

“Yeah, I saw her,” I said, already pushing to my feet and asking to be excused for the restroom. 

I followed the sound of their voices to the front of the school, stopping by the lockers as Nora gave a peppy wave. And I could now say, without a reasonable doubt, the girl heading through the front doors of Dayton High was Genevieve. When she exited the building, I was right after her, crossing the parking lot in the sticky Alabama heat. 

With each step I took, her steps quickened. Then I caught up. “Twenty-one, huh?” 

She whipped around with a startled expression and a can of mace held out in front of her like a gun. Her face shifted into an annoyed scowl when her gaze landed on my face, and I fought a laugh. Poor little rich girl was out of her element. That was for damn sure.

She dropped the mace into her purse on a huff. “What the hell are you doing here?” Like she was the one who belonged in this dump? 

“I think the one of us who’s outta place is you,” I said, dragging my gaze over her curves.

“Great. Of course you go to the shit hole school. Why wouldn’t you?” She mumbled about how awful her life was, marching off with a sway of hips. “I’m not in the mood,” she said, then gave a flippant wave over her shoulder. “So, run back to your girlfriend and leave me alone.” 

She was mad about Nikki. That was a definite win. 

I started after her again. “Oh, someone’s salty as fuck.” 

“Or—annoyed that her poor choices are coming back to haunt her.”

“Poor choices?” I scoffed, staring at her ass as I followed her between two beat-up cars. “Since when has an orgasm been a poor choice?” Because she came faster than NASA could launch a rocket.

She spun around and jabbed a finger against my chest. “Since the guy is clearly cheating on his girlfriend while giving it.” 

I slapped her hand away. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh? Does she know she’s not your girlfriend? Or is it just when it’s convenient for you?” A condescending smirk cut across her lips. “Because no girl is going to chase a guy into a parking lot like that when he’s not her boyfriend.” 

The self-righteous, judgmental glare she shot at me lit my short fuse. It wasn’t like she had been Mother Teresa that night, riding my face like she was the Lone Ranger and I, her trusted steed. If this girl wanted to judge my character, then I was absolutely going to judge hers.

I narrowed my gaze. “What kinda girl goes out to a van with a guy who offers her a shitty pick-up line?” Yeah, it was shitty of me...

“That—is not the point.” A slight red tinged her cheeks. “I was having a very bad night. And you...” 

“From the way it felt when you came on my face,” I said, “seems I made that very bad night a helluva lot better.” With one swift movement, I pinned her against a dirty car window.

And like I knew she would, she reacted. Latching onto my biceps and pushing, pulling. Pushing… like she couldn’t decide if she wanted me closer or farther away. Rich pricks weren’t as gifted as I was in the arena of vulgarity, so if I had to guess, my ability to make her hot and repulsed at the same time must be a new sensation. So why stop?

“And I’d gladly do it again. Right here.” I moved my hands to her waist, then nudged her legs apart with my knee. “Right now. On the hood of this car, if you want.”


“You what?” I breathed against her lips.

Genevieve’s hold on my arm tightened. That’s right, baby girl, try to fight it. The way her chest rose on uneven swells made my dick harder than concrete, and the thought of slipping my dick between her glossy lips sprung to life. My fingers twitched over her sides, the primitive part of me begging to give in. This girl got me going, unlike anything I’d experienced before. I contemplated what filthy line I could throw at her next, but a string of chatter broke through the silence. Genevieve went rigid. 

The conversation fell quiet, and I glanced over my shoulder at Nikki, surrounded by a group of her annoying friends. “Are you serious right now?” Her arms crossed her chest while her gaze pinged between Genevieve and me.

There was one way to quickly clear up this misunderstanding, both between Genevieve and me and Nikki and me. “Hey, Nikki,” I said, my hold on Genevieve tightening. “Since you screwed this up last weekend by being a psycho, can you tell her that you’re not my girlfriend?”

Nikki’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Fuck you, Bellamy.” Then she marched off, her troop of mean girls in tow.

“See. Not my girlfriend.” I smiled.

With a roll of her eyes, Genevieve shoved me back a step. “You’re a dick,” she said, brushing past me.

She could call me a dick all day long, but that girl was one hundred percent interested, and I was one hundred percent going to ruin her.

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