Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,86

My hips pump faster against the seat until I’m coming apart with a desperate, searing relief, like that first hit off a joint, or that first sip of coffee in the morning. My orgasm is like … falling into bed after a long trip or cracking your knuckles or snorting a line of the purest coke. It’s almost as good as falling in love. But not quite.

We stay where we are for a moment, panting and shivering as the cool air brushes across our sweat-soaked skin.

“Jesus, Hael,” Bernie murmurs and I chuckle, sitting up and grabbing my discarded shirt again to clean my hand off. I’ve thoroughly fucked my boxers and honestly, I’m real glad I went with leather for the seats. Have you ever tried to get cum off a fabric seat? Fucking sucks.

I sit up and drag my jeans on with shaking hands, slumping back into the seat as Bernie yanks on her panties and forgoes her pink pants entirely. She curls up against my side as another Connie Francis song starts up.

“This … was not what I expected from you,” she whispers, tucked close to me. I glance back just in time to see a familiar maroon Subaru driving away. Huh. Hadn’t even noticed the VGTF assholes joining us on the Butte. Hope they enjoyed the show.

“In a good way?” I ask, feeling my stomach knot as I wait for her answer.

“In the best way,” Bernie agrees, and I sigh, my head falling back so I can look up and see the stars. “The absolute fucking best.”

And with that, I’m damn near certain that I could die happy.

Bernadette Blackbird

Convincing your five possessive alpha-dick lovers to let you dress up like a whore and raid a gang-owned strip club is one of the hardest things a girl can go through. Frankly, I’m starting to run out of patience here.

“Listen to me,” I start as Aaron leans back in his chair at the admittedly cute vintage table in the kitchen. Fifties era, linoleum top, aluminum legs and banding around the edges. Bound to be a classic someday. I might steal it when we leave. Not sure where I’d put it, but I like it. The look Aaron gives me is one-part irritation and two-parts terror. He knows that once I’ve latched onto something, I’m like a bulldog with a bone. He already knows he’s going to lose.

Vic, on the other hand, could use a memo.

“Listen to you talk about an idea that isn’t happening?” Victor quips, spraying testosterone in the air like a dragon breathing fire. My mouth tightens, and I feel myself getting all southside pissed off at him. “You’re not going into that club. Bernie, did you hear what Callum said? He couldn’t beat Mason Miller. No offense, but if Cal can’t do it then you can’t do it. I can’t do it.”

“Not in a one-on-one fight,” I argue, standing up from my chair so quickly that it falls over, scratching the already ruined wood floors. This place is a dump, even by Prescott standards. But it’s also buried so deeply in our territory that if the GMP were to attack, our people would appear at their own windows, holding sawed-off shotguns and ready to fight. “But I have a plan. I’ve been talking to Vera, gathering information.”

I grab Oscar’s iPad, our fingers brushing as I go to take it from him. Our eyes meet and a bolt of ice slashes through my chest, cooling some of my ire but encouraging a whole different sort of fire between my thighs, one that blazes so hot that a bead of sweat trails down between my breasts.

Flipping the cover open, I pull up the map I drew with his stylus this morning, over coffee and doughnuts with Vera. She’s actually kind of … cool? Like, I can see how she became Stacey’s BFF. She fucks and discards naughty Prescott boys the way Hael used to plow his way through girls. Her mouth is filthy, but she’s sharp as a fucking tack. Loyal, too. Even with Stacey dead and buried, she won’t allow anything to taint her friend’s memory.

“This is a map of Kay’s,” I say, noting that Vera scrawled KKKay’s in the corner. Fuck, I hate white supremacists. Nazis and racists and homophobes and sexists and fascists. Gross. But anything to inspire hate and division, am I right? “And this is Mason’s personal room. According to Vera—and a few of Stacey’s other girls—he uses this room every time he