Brutal Heir (Court University 1)

“Nothing worth noting now.” I shifted my attention to Greer. “It’s been a long time.”

It had been a long time, and though I’d been a snot-nosed little kid last time I’d known her, the reaction she elicited out of me now I couldn’t so easily lock down in the past and pass off as a little brat kid with an infatuation with the first girl his grandfather threw in front of him. Greer Michaelson unnerved me, was under my skin, and I felt that each time my slime ball frat brother rubbed her shoulders and pressed his nose into her white blond hair. She wasn’t in his league—at all—and that was because she was better than him. Better than all this.

“How do you two know each other?” I fought heat in my voice staring at them, trying to distract myself with Melrose and her perfect tits as she pressed her pebbled nipples up against me. They strained at her top and everything, the girl hungry for me as she lazily drew fingers across my abs through my T-shirt.

Greer noticed when I glanced over to her, frowning, and though she opened her mouth to speak the douche prick wouldn’t let her.

“Just met at a club tonight,” he crooned, the girl basically fresh meat under his arm. He jiggled her, the ass hat basically trying to fondle her when he moved his hand around and brushed his fingers against her side boob. Greer immediately tried to ease away, clearly uncomfortable, but he kept her there.

My hand squeezed glass, and complacent, she let him hold her. He was in a position of power, and she allowed it, probably not wanting to be rude. With a tap against his arm, she did eventually push away though.

“I’m going to get a drink.” A breath pulled from her lips, clear relief from no longer being fucking fondled. But with a move, Bryce got back right into that.

He brought her to him by the hips, then pinched her chin. “Get me a beer?”

She nodded, again I think t

o keep the peace. She passed me barely a look, and before I knew it, I was telling Melrose to follow after her.

“Get yourself something,” I told her, wanting to talk to this cocksucker alone. If he was going to be talking to Greer, he wouldn’t be fucking with her. I raised my bottle. “And me one too.”

Melrose more than wanted to oblige like most girls in her position; being in my hometown gave me power. Then coming here, a new elite made up of people from where I was from and similar places around the globe, the same. Pembroke University had its own caste system, and as far as myself or anyone else in this fucking room was concerned, I was the king. My grandfather and my family basically funded half the programs on this campus, a building named after my family and shit. That was something I was about to let Bryce Coventry know and started right in on it the moment I asked for some of his time. It was a request mostly out of formality. The dick would do anything I fucking wanted if asked.

We ended up taking our talk upstairs and out of earshot of the party beneath. I didn’t know how loud I’d get, and it would get loud if this guy fucked with me.

In his room, Bryce immediately started texting someone, and I closed the door. He had a bar set up like most of our rooms in a house meant for the privileged, so I decided to help myself to scotch.

“What’s this about, brother?” he asked me, still texting when I turned around, and after I asked him about that, he smirked. “Just telling Greer where we’re at. Want me to get her up here?”

Curious, I took my drink, lounging back against the wall. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Thinking you, me, her.” Waggling his eyebrows, he went back to his phone, then after, he tossed it on the bed. “I told her to go ahead and come up. We can have a good time with her. I bet she’d be game, and if she’s not…” He reached over to his end table, pulling out a little bag. Clear, there were several pills inside, and it didn’t take a scientist to figure out what he held.

He stalked over to me, cool as a fucking cucumber, before simulating dropping the pills into my glass of scotch.

“A little something to relax her, eh?” He nudged me, smile wide. “It’ll be too easy.”

Yeah, real easy, and clearly, there was no hope for this guy.

My anger only momentarily contained, I slid my glass onto the bar. “I need to talk with you.”

“What about?” Back on his phone, the little fucker. His eyes danced suddenly, and with them, he pumped his fist into the air. “She’s coming up, bro. Let’s get a drink ready.”

“Bryce?”

“What?” Like a fucking gleeful-ass kid, he quickly worked up a drink before turning down the bed. He really was going to do this, fuck with Greer, and I saw nothing but red, Bryce suddenly on his phone while he lounged back against sheets. He was texting with nothing if not violent delight, no doubt texting her, and before I thought better of it, his phone was in my hands. “Dude—”

It crashed, like literally in a million fucking pieces, when I threw it against the wall. Bryce’s face shot up with red, and in an instant, his hands were on me, shoving me.

Guy had a fucking death wish.

He was immediately on the floor, one punch sending him there. I hadn’t had to do much, outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, and he hit the floor like a two-ton weight.

“What. The. Fuck.” His hand on his face, that red knob formed against his temple. It started to swell the moment he pulled his hand away, but I wasn’t waiting for him to get his bearings.

I came for him, but quicker than me, he dashed onto the other side of his bed. Before I knew it, he was reaching inside his dresser drawers.

The nine millimeter was in my face.