Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,103

quite figure out. “What are you doing, bro?”

“Sit down,” Vic repeats, and there's this tense moment there where Hael has to decide what he wants to do: listen to the boss of the Havoc Boys or make a statement. Teeth clenched, Hael sits down on the edge of the bed, and I perch beside him. Victor turns to me.

“Do it,” he commands. He holds up his phone, and I can tell by the light that he’s just started recording. His mouth curves to the side in a cruel smirk. “Fuck my best friend while I watch.”

I glance over at Hael to gauge his reaction and find him with a wicked smile on his face.

Victor is … going to film us. He’s going to watch.

Hael might not get it, but I do.

Victor really is still pissed, even if he doesn't look it.

I turn back toward him, but all he does is lift a dark brow in question. This is another challenge from him.

“Well? You said you wanted this, didn't you, Bernadette? To do your duties? Here's your opportunity. Do you know why we wanted a Havoc Girl in the first place?” Vic is taunting me now, and I can feel my hands curling into tight fists. “Because we didn't want a girl to come between us. So now we're going to share you.”

I open my mouth to say something, but what's the point?

Vic wants to be an asshole? I can be one, too.

Instead of responding the way I want—I'd love to chuck something at his perfect face right now—I turn toward Hael instead, heart thundering.

“Here,” Vic says before I can even get started, chucking some condoms at us that he pulls from his jeans pocket. “Wouldn't want to make the same mistake with Hael that you made with me.”

“Definitely not,” I grind out, snatching one up and turning back to Hael. He's got a cocky smile on his face, like maybe this is all fun and games to him. Fucking is like an Olympic sport to this asshole anyway, so why am I not surprised?

Hael takes the condom and tucks it into his pocket, scooting back on the bed and then pulling me up with him. He rolls us over so that I'm on my back and he's hovering over me, that coconut scent of his enveloping me and mixing with the fresh scent of weed, protecting me from the dark influence of Victor Channing, his voyeuristic ass sitting in the corner.

I should question him, ask him what he's filming us for, but I know he won't post it anywhere. Vic is too selfish for that. This is all for him.

Hael seems to sense that I don't want to be kissed, moving those hot lips of his to my neck. As soon as he makes contact with my throat, I sigh, my back arching up off the bed. His right hand slides up and under my shirt, heating my skin to unbearable temperatures.

He's watching, I remind myself, but that doesn't make the moment less hot. It amps up the tension, and I find myself squirming, wishing Hael would move his hand between my thighs to satisfy that deep ache in my core.

“Not so fast, Blackbird,” he purrs, grabbing my wrist when my fingers drop to the waistband of his jeans. He pins it above my head and runs his hot tongue down the curve of my neck, tasting my pulse. “Vic wants a show, not a sprint. Let's give him a proper performance, shall we?”

My fingers curl in Hael's bloodred hair as he kisses his way down my throat, my fingers teasing over his sweaty neck and down his arms. His muscles are trembling slightly from all the work he put in today, but that just makes it even hotter. I can feel every jump of his pulse when I rest my fingers on the side of his throat.

He moves suddenly, surprising me by biting the hardened point of my nipple through my shirt and drawing a long groan from me. His coconut and leather scent is still there, but it lingers under the heavy, sweet scent of weed.

My fingers tease down Hael's rounded biceps and pick some of the sticky leaves off his skin as he works my breast with his mouth, drawing all that lust and need from my core into my chest. My nipples ache as Hael runs his hand up and under my shirt, palming one of the smooth mounds as he kneads the flesh with strong