Wicked Royals (Elites of Macedon High 1)

Tabitha grins while cupping her own breasts. “Definitely not better than mine.” She looks at Parker. “You really prefer hers, baby?”

Parker only has eyes for me. The way he stares at me without blinking, mouth slack and lids heavy, makes Tabitha furious with jealousy—and that satisfies some deeply hidden desire I didn’t know I harbored.

“Get over here,” Parker demands while holding my gaze, “and suck me off.”

Dripping with irritation, I resist.

I want to see how angry I can make him.

He growls with frustration while pointing to Tabitha. “Hold her while I fuck her mouth.”

I blink rapidly, the situation flipping too fast for me to think clearly. Tabitha proudly grabs hold of my elbows and holds them behind me while marching me toward Parker. She forces me to the ground and giggles when Parker pierces my lips with his cock, tears flooding my vision when the head pokes the back of my throat.

The gagging sound I make makes me sick to my stomach. My lunch threatens to make an appearance, my gag reflex too sensitive to be prodded so hard. But Parker doesn’t care. His eyes glow with anger while he fists my hair and slams his dick into my mouth, never once looking away from me.

“What a slut,” Tabitha jabs. She moans salaciously. “She’s so filthy, right, baby?”

Parker grunts while pulling back his cock. He forces me to stick out my tongue and slaps my mouth with the head, causing me to blink rapidly with each blow.

“Stupid whore,” Tabitha says while tightening her grip on my elbows. “You can’t even please him like I can.”

A flustered Parker takes a step back, leaving me on the ground with his ex-girlfriend digging her nails into my skin. He looks at his ex, green fire burning in his eyes as he commands, “Take off your bra and get her off.”

I feel her fingers go lax as she whispers, “W-what?”

His responding growl prompts us both into action. I settle on the bench between the row of lockers, vibrating while I try to unbutton my jeans. It’s stiflingly hot in here; his cock is so rigid that I can see every vein pulsing through the shaft toward the tip, and the way he’s looking at me—the way his gaze consumes me—does the same thing it did at the pier.

It makes me wet.

Once my pants are discarded and my thong is tugged aside, Tabitha reluctantly slides her fingers through my folds. The way Parker groans, a sound so strangely uninhibited from a guy who seems intent on retaining an angry facade, makes me shudder. Maybe it’s how he’s stroking himself or maybe it’s the bead of fluid decorating the tip of his cock, but I buck eagerly into her touch, her fingers softer than I anticipated.

“Doesn’t matter who it is,” he whispers huskily while drawing close. “Doesn’t matter what it is—you’ll get off to anything, won’t you, Alex?”

I whimper while clutching the bench beneath me.

“You can’t lie to me,” he states, his breathing laboring. “And you can’t lie to yourself.”

My control weakens the more Tabitha rubs my clit. It’s the laziest kind of stroking that still devastates my grip on reality, causing me to blossom just as Parker releases his load on my chest. When he’s done, he grabs my chin, speaking out loud, but directing his next set of instructions to his ex-girlfriend, “Clean her off with your tongue.”

Long laps erupt over my cleavage as Parker holds me in place. He looks away from my face long enough to watch what Tabitha is doing, his cock twitching against my shoulder, ready to grow hard again. It’s not until his seed is entirely cleaned that he releases my jaw.

And then he leaves.

I’m plastered against the bench while staring at the ceiling, eyes glassed over while trying to process what the fuck just happened to me.

And to Tabitha.

I sit up to find her fixing her tits back into her bra. She adjusts the straps of her tank top, lifts her purse, and carefully procures a compact mirror. While she touches up her lipstick, I locate my bra and T-shirt.

I’m dressed by the time I sit next to her. “You okay?”

She slaps the mirror shut. “You can go fuck yourself, sweetheart.”

“Tabitha, I shouldn’t have attacked you. Parker makes me—”

She laughs bitterly. “We both know that Parker doesn’t make you do shit. You want to be a dirty whore, and you want to be a bitchy slut who assaults people.” She stands and marches to the door, pausing to spit over her shoulder, “And your pussy smells like fish.”

The metal door squeals shut, yanking me out of whatever dissociated festival I was having in my head. My hands shake, my knees ache, and I’m not sure I can make it to fencing class at this point.