Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,68
kiss on the mouth. She pulls away from him slightly, a frown working its way onto her face. I can hardly believe Vic just dropped that bomb about Principal Vaughn.
My mouth gets dry, and I suck down another gulp of coffee to keep my throat from closing up. Victor’s fingers play a dangerous game, stroking the silken flesh of my inner thigh, working closer and closer to that desperate heat. The first deliberate stroke is almost too much. I set the coffee cup down on the saucer so loudly that it clinks and both Ophelia and her beau turn to look at me.
Vic, however, keeps his attention straight forward, his mouth a cruel twist of lips.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Mother?” he asks, the dutiful son act slipping slightly. There’s an edge of danger in his voice that says he’s ready for whatever it is she wants to throw at him. “I’m your only son, after all.”
“Tom Muller,” the man says, introducing himself. He’s polished and well put-together, but with a total sleazebag vibe, like he has a punch card for young girls’ cherries. He holds out a hand which Victor doesn’t take, and then turns his attention to me. “And you are—”
“Don’t talk to my fiancée,” Victor growls out, clenching his teeth, his fingers stiff against the wet silk of my panties. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds, mixing copper into the bitter taste of coffee on my tongue. “She doesn’t like you.”
“The girl can speak for herself, can’t she?” Tom asks, smiling at me like a used-car salesman.
“I don’t like you,” I repeat, and his face falls, the illusion of niceties shattering into a million pieces. Does his sleazy act really work on anyone at all? When I flick my attention back to Vic and find a dark shimmer of satisfaction in his gaze, I almost wonder if he’s had bad experiences with his mother’s boyfriends around his own girlfriends before. “How long do we have to sit here and pretend like your egg donor isn’t purposely trying to sabotage you to steal your inheritance to fund her slutty boyfriend’s pretentious lifestyle?”
“Just long enough to figure out how far she’s planning on taking this. I’m nearly eighteen and she has yet to find something that’ll derail me. What’s next? You sell all your fancy clothes and hire an assassin?”
I’m staring right at Victor when he slips his fingers under the edge of my panties and pushes them into the molten heat of my core. I’m shaking so bad now that Ophelia and Tom are bound to notice.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ophelia snorts, sliding her hands along her thighs to smooth out her skirt. “I don’t need your money, Victor. I'm just trying to make sure that when and if you receive my mother's money that you won't blow it all on drugs and nonsense.”
My entire world seems to shrink down to a fine point, my senses hyper focused on Vic and his fingers as he pushes them inside of me and then pulls out, teasing wetness over my clit. Ophelia's looking right at me now, chastising me for calling her an egg donor, and for purposely trying to create tension between her and her son.
I barely register any of it.
The whole world falls away around me until I feel this burning ache inside of me that starts in my spine and unfurls through me like a whip, striking all the cold, dead parts of me and bringing them to brilliant, painful life.
“Excuse me,” I choke out, shoving back from the table and stumbling to my feet. I smooth my skirt out as I go, taking off into the labyrinthine halls with no clue as to where I'm going.
As soon as I find a bathroom, I slip into it and start to shut the door.
Vic is there though, blocking the door with his forearm and pushing his way in. He slams it behind us, flicks the lock, and turns to me, lifting me onto the counter. My hands go around his neck and find his skin just as slick with sweat as my own.
Our mouths hover close, but for whatever reason, I just can't make myself close that distance to kiss him. Instead of fucking me into the counter like I'd expected, Vic continues teasing me with his hand until I'm trembling so hard I can barely keep my fingers clasped behind his neck. He looks right at me with those ebon eyes of his, pushing his