Prologue
Violet
I look down at the dress I’m wearing, while I let my fingers brush through the ends of my pale blonde hair.
Can they tell I don’t belong here?
My dress is designer, and I think it looks new. I bought it at a secondhand store last month when I found out I was getting this interview.
I only paid four dollars for this dress. It probably cost more new than most people make in a year where I’m from. I’m just hoping it helps me bluff my way through this interview.
I take a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. I look over at the guy across from me. There has been a slew of people in for meetings today. It’s the end of the day and now it’s just me and this guy left. He’s got dark hair and it’s lazily cut, the bangs trailing in his eyes. He’s good looking, could probably be a model. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was. He’s dressed casually, wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt. There’s not a designer tag in sight.
Shit. Maybe I misjudged. Did I overdress? Will they think I don’t need the scholarship?
A fresh wave of panic hits me.
I really need this scholarship. Going to Black Mountain Academy is step one to moving out of the projects and achieving my goals – and getting far away from the life my mother led.
The life she squandered. The life she wasted.
I shake off thoughts of my mother when the principal comes out. I practically hold my breath. He looks me over, but then his gaze goes back to the guy sitting across from me.
“Mr. Trenton, you’re next,” he says and the disappointment I feel is definitely annoying. I was hoping I’d be next. I have a lot to do today.
After I finish this interview, I have to find a place to stay and a job. If something happens and I don’t get this scholarship, the whole job thing will become a lot more complicated.
It doesn’t matter, though. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make this happen. I’m never going back to California, unless it’s with a prestigious law degree and a career as an entertainment lawyer – not as a kid living in the slums.
I’m never going to be identified as that again.
Never.
1
Mike
My hand sinks into her hair, fingers tangling into the auburn curls, and I tighten them so fucking much it’s a wonder that the strands don’t give way. Lindy likes it that way, and I try to give it just that way. There’s always a reputation to uphold.
She would probably scream if she could. Considering her mouth and throat are overfilled with my cock, that’s an impossibility at the moment.
“That’s it, suck that cock,” I growl, flexing my hips, slamming my thick cock into her tight throat. I start tunneling in and out, because I’m on the verge of growing bored. That’s been happening more often than not lately.
I’m starting to feel like a fucking trained monkey. All the fucking chicks in this school want to look at my cock and say they got a taste of Big Mike. I’m past tired of this damn place. I should have graduated two years ago, but I didn’t; partly because I didn’t bother to open a book the first two years I was here and partly because my father keeps thinking my athletic skills will improve to the point I can go pro like my brother.
My brother is legit a shining star in the major leagues. I might play baseball, but I hate it and I don’t have Parker’s skill. I guess the only particular skill I have is fucking, and that’s one I’ve honed since being at Black Mountain Academy. Too damn bad having a huge dick and knowing how to use it isn’t good enough to satisfy dear old Dad’s demands for having a life plan.
He sees me as a failure. He lets me know that daily – sometimes hourly.
The thing about having Parker as a brother is that I have to live in his shadow. Not that Parker is a bastard. He’s a good guy.
The best.
Another thing I’m not.
There’s not much you can say that’s good about me and I don’t even give a fuck anymore.
I can feel my cock deflating. You would think Lindy would be a fucking pro at blowjobs as many as she’s given, but I’d rather be in fucking Chemistry class right now instead of behind these stairs with her mouth on me. I’m about to pull Lindy off when I look up and spot her.
I’ve never seen her before. She’s in the main hall across from the stairwell, but she’s looking straight at me. She’s short, at least compared to me. She probably stands about five-six or so, curvy as fuck, but firm. You can tell she either works out or powerwalks the fuck out of life. She’s got long, wavy, ice-blonde hair. The sun is shining through the hall and as it catches the strands, she looks like a damn angel. She’s also got big tits. One would overfill my hand and damn, I like that. I’ve always been a tit man; there’s just something about them. Their soft roundness, how the nipples respond to your touch. How good it feels to suck on them and bite the tender peaks. And this girl’s? Fuck, I could put my dick between them and her tits would wrap around them tight while I titty-fuck the hell out of her.