Dirty Wicked Prince (Court Legacy 1)

I answered despite myself. Why did I always fucking cater to this girl?

I sat in silence when I answered, hadn’t even said her name when I picked up.

“Hi.”

Her hurried voice slid into the line, breathy, panting. It reminded me of when I’d made her come.

Instantly.

Fucking.

Hard.

This girl had a fucking effect on me I couldn’t stand, and she was obviously moving around somewhere.

“What do you need?” I asked her, doing my best not to sound like a fucking dick.

Why do you care?

For some reason, I did, waiting. But when she didn’t say anything at first, I sat up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to look for Bru,” she huffed, more than aggressive about it. It was one of the things I liked about her. Noa Sloane put up with no shit. She stood up to me, stood up to all of us, and not a lot of people around here did that whether because of fear or intimidation.

We’d attempted both on her, but to no avail. She’d handled her own.

And got in your goddamn head.

I blamed that on only her taste, something I’d made myself truly believe. I didn’t have time for anything else.

“The Find My Phone app said he’s at Murphy Park,” she said. “But I think I’m lost. That’s why I called you. I have no idea where the fuck I am.”

I smiled. “I know it. Where did you just pass? Anything identifiable?”

“Actually, yes.” She stopped, then chuckled. “You probably won’t believe this, but there’s a tree that looks like a fucking dick.”

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

This girl managed to get laughter out of me, go fucking figure after the week I’d had. I nodded my chin though she couldn’t see. “Doyle’s Cock.”

“What?”

My smile widened. “That’s its name.” Well, at least that’s what me and my asshole friends named it. “We had a teacher named Mr. Doyle in the seventh grade. Total dick. We named it after him.”

“Hence, Doyle’s Cock.” Her own laughter sounded into the line, like those little birds that flew around in spring.

What the fuck? Little birds? Really, D?

This chick was way too into my head, and I knew because I was now backing out of my driveway.

“Stay there,” I said into the line. I had my speakerphone on at this point. “I’m coming out. I’ll find you.”

“What?”

“I said I’m coming to you. What, you don’t want the help?” Not to mention she was fucking lost. “Just stay there. Don’t get yourself lost any deeper.”

“Okay.” Her voice had been light, hesitant. Noa Sloane still didn’t trust me.