Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 2)

“Don’t. You’re fake. What’s the point of being you, the supposed man to beat, if you can’t even be real?”

“I have a lot of enemies.”

“A lot of people do. Only the weak hide from theirs.”

His eyes harden slightly. “Are you weak or are you smart, Raven?”

“I’m not the one who got sucked in by the she-devil and landed my ass in prison for eleven years over beat up pussy.”

“Raven,” Royce draws, but Rolland lifts his hand.

“It’s okay, son,” he says, and I grind my teeth together.

“I don’t need you to pacify them for me. I can handle them on my own.”

He eyes me, then slowly stands. “Perhaps we should speak tomorrow. It’s late. Let’s all try our best to get some sleep.” His eyes bounce between the four of us then tighten. “I’ll take the pool house for the night. Ms. Maybell set it up for me. Tomorrow, I have some calls to make, but soon.” He looks back to me. “We speak.”

I don’t respond, but trail every movement of each of them as they walk him out back, hugging him as he exits.

I take the steps two at a time and rush into my room.

I pull my knife out, flipping it open and closed several times.

He’s home.

He’s fucking home.

Son of a bitch, what’s this mean? And what the hell was Maybell trying to tell me with her cryptic ass bullshit?

I groan, dropping my head into my hands as it starts to pound. I reach into my side drawer and swallow two ibuprofen, jumping when my door is thrown open and Maddoc steps through the door.

He closes and locks it behind him, lifting his eyes to mine.

My features tighten right along with his, but when my shoulders drop his follow and he rushes me.

I toss the knife to the floor and he scoops me up and drops me on to my mattress in the same second.

He pulls my jeans off while losing his and my legs fall open, welcoming him in. He takes up every inch of the space, pushing his dick against my clit over my underwear.

His rough hands run up my sides until he’s pulling my shirt over my head, but he doesn’t pull it all the way off. He leaves it tangled there, covering my face, my arms both up.

His lips drag across the edge of my breasts, his chin pushing my bra down so he can bite on my nipple.

He licks it, blowing his warm breath over the wet spot, making me shiver.

“Maddoc...” I whisper, and he grinds against me.

“Almost, baby.” He kisses his way to my left breast and does the same, before making his way up my neck, and finally he pulls the shirt off the rest of the way.

I grip his face and pull his mouth to mine, kissing him fiercely.

Hungrily.

Fucking needy.

I shift my lower half, gasping when the heat of his head slides past my underwear.

He groans against my mouth and reaches down to shove them aside the rest of the way. He aligns himself and I lift my hips, forcing him inside me when he tries to take his time.

When I sigh, he grins and nips at my lips, but when he catches my eyes, his features shift.

His hand comes up to run down my temple, slowly sinking into my hair.

His hips move leisurely, deep full strokes that are driving me mad, but it’s such a good kind of torture.

I moan softly, and he drops his forehead to mine.

“Wrap your arms around me, baby.”

I do as he asks, and he buries his face into the crook of my neck, sighing against my skin and he fucks me slow.

“I love the feel of your pussy, baby,” he whispers. “So tight, so wet.”

I throb around him and he twitches inside me.

“So fucking good.” He grinds deeper and my head tips back. “And mine.”

My fingers twitch, and I slide them up his back, gripping the tops of his shoulders, using his body as a barrier and forcing him deeper.

“Come for me, baby.” He bites against my neck and I start to shiver. He lifts my knee, pushing it out and he hits deeper. “Come with me.”

And I do. I come as he does, both our bodies jolting against each other.

He pulls out and once we clean-up we drop back onto the bed, moving under the covers this time.

We both lie there silent for a few minutes when he finally speaks.

“I meant what I said to you,” he tells me. “His being here changes nothing between us. You’re mine, Raven Carver. No matter what.”

“And are you mine, Big Man?” I ask despite myself.

“Yes.” His answer is instant and should settle me.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t.I didn’t sleep.

Not even a little all weekend, and now the sun is almost up as the smell of bacon wafts through the bottom of the door, but it’s when the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits my nostrils that I tense.