Bradford Bastard (Bradford Bastard 1)

I watch her for a moment, hanging her clothes and bending down to grab some more out of a large box, her ass high in the air and making the hunger soar deeper through my body. Can’t lie, the girl is fine. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulder, exposing the curve of her neck, while her slim, toned waist looks as though it could fit perfectly between my hands, but her ass … fuck. I could bury myself in that ass.

Without even realizing, my hand begins moving up and down the length of my cock, imagining her plump lips circled around it, her tongue rolling over my tip. A groan rumbles through my chest as my lips begin twisting into a wicked smirk, knowing just how much fun it’s going to be living next door to this little vixen. I just hope her bite really is as bad as her bark.

Killjoy hangs the last of her clothes, and as she steps out of her closet, her head snaps up, her soft blue eyes landing directly on mine. I can almost hear her gasp.

Her gaze drops, her jaw going slack as those blue eyes widen and snap back up to mine. A laugh booms out of my chest. I’m in no way ashamed of my body, in fact, I’m pretty fucking proud of it, and just to let her know, I move my fist up and down and wink before watching as she dies of embarrassment.

She immediately looks away, her cheeks flaming bright red as my grip tightens on my cock. She spins around and all but runs back inside her closet before grabbing the door and slamming it behind her.

Another laugh rumbles through my chest and I move across my room into my private bathroom as I thank whoever exists above that she hadn’t considered closing her blinds. Though something tells me that won’t be the case from here on out.

Leaving the door wide open, I step into my shower and go to fucking town, knowing damn well that the second she steps out of her closet, she’s going to be watching the whole damn show.

Whoever said fucking with your neighbors shouldn’t be fun?

Chapter 5

BRIELLE

Beep. Beep.

Beeeeeeeeeeep. Beep. Beep.

“Ugggggh,” I groan, rolling over and slamming my hand down over my phone. It hasn’t shut up for the past half an hour, and I’m one beep away from throwing it across the room and shattering it against the wall. I’m not proud of my violent ways, but I’ll do anything to make it stop.

Beep.

“FUUUUUCK!”

I curl the cool metal around my hand and lift it over my face to see what the hell is going on, only to feel rage boiling through my veins as I find a slew of missed calls and texts from Colby. Does this guy not get the hint? We’re over. So fucking over. I don’t want anything to do with him. I mean, I know he clearly has no self-respect, but I sure as hell do.

Not having the restraint to control myself, I open his messages and realize they start right from the night of the party.

Colby - Babe, please. I swear, it’s not what it looked like. Come back. We can talk about this.

A booming laugh tears from my chest. He’s kidding, right? I literally walked in and saw his three-incher buried inside Dancer Girl. The need to respond with the photo I’d taken blasts through me, but I don’t dare give in to him. The moment I reply is the moment he gets me right where he wants me, and that’s not about to happen.

I scroll down.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Where are you? Why aren’t you answering my calls? Don’t be like this, babe. Please, we can work through it. I was just drunk and stupid, but what we have means so much more.

Colby - Why are you throwing this away?

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Come on. Stop being so dramatic. That slut came onto me. What was I supposed to do?

Colby - Answer your fucking phone.

Colby - Real fucking mature, Brielle. Do you know who I am? I’m the fucking captain of the football team, I’m the fucking king of the school. Without me, you’re nothing. I will destroy you. You’re just some dumb bitch with a nice rack. One word from me and you’ll be the school outcast. Is that really how you want to start senior year?

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Missed Call.

Fucking hell. My heart races with anger and I clench my jaw, the struggle not to respond testing me like never before. All of those messages are from the night of the party, and clearly he was a little sore after having to find his own way home, but what did he expect? Maybe he’s forgotten that I have actual proof of him fucking that girl.