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Bradford Bastard (Bradford Bastard 1)

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What does it matter now anyway? I’ve moved homes, I live far away, and won’t even be going to school with him. His threats mean nothing, and despite how much I don’t want to be living here with creepy perv dude down the hall and naked, tattooed, horny guy next door, it’s somehow a fresh start.

Call me a sucker for punishment because I keep scrolling, finding the messages from yesterday and this morning.

Colby - I’m sorry, babe. Can we just start over? I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing. Surely you can forgive me, right? I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was just a mistake. I’m human. What more do you want from me?

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Why aren’t you answering your phone? Erica’s not taking my calls either. Please, babe. Just tell me we’re cool. I’ll pick you up for school in the morning. We can ride in together and talk.

Colby - Bri, can you just reply? Tell me you’re okay.

Colby - I’m out front. Come out.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Where the fuck are you? Your house is empty!

Colby - Brielle. Where are you?

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE.

Colby - Missed Call.

Colby - I’m so fucking done with your shit. Good luck being the school reject, bitch. I’ll have Kate on her fucking knees, sucking my cock by lunch. I don’t fucking need you. I’m out.

Letting out a breath, I drop my phone into the sheets and stare up at the ceiling. I suppose this is what I get when I don’t answer my phone all weekend. Though, it’s not my problem anymore. Good luck to him. I’m sure it’ll be fun trying to make me the reject of a school I no longer attend. It’s Erica I worry about. It won’t take long before he’s cornering her in the hallway, demanding answers. She can handle assholes like that though. She’s been waiting six long months to put him in his place, and I can guarantee that she won’t hold back.

My gaze lingers on the ceiling, desperately wishing I could sleep another few hours. I spent most of the night unpacking my things. You know, after I found the nerve to escape my closet, but damn, that scary dude was butt naked with every single tattoo on full display, staring right at me with his monster dick in hand and his eyes sparkling, daring me to come over and play. I don’t think my heart has ever raced so fast.

When I realized the guy from the party was my new neighbor, dread filled me. I knew I wasn’t going to get away with the bullshit I pulled at that party. I was angry and hurt and my attitude flew free. I don’t usually speak so bluntly to strangers, and I sure as hell don’t pick fights with them, especially when they’re twice my size.

I’m not going to lie, I laid awake for most of the night, unable to stop picturing the way his hand moved up and down his thick shaft, unable to stop imagining just how good it would have felt had it been my hand, wondering what was rushing through his head.

Shit, I know I shouldn’t go there. I know that I should take the image of his thick, veiny cock and that devilish grin and burn them to ashes. It’s dangerous territory, but when a girl is all alone with a beast of a man just one window away, it’s almost impossible not to go there.

Without thinking, my gaze falls to the window, my breath catching in my throat as my bottom lip catches between my teeth. With my blinds pulled, I can’t see anything but the inside of my new bedroom, but just the knowledge of Jock Dude being so close, asleep in his bed, probably looking like some kind of wet dream, makes it hard to focus.

Ha. Maybe if Colby had ever satisfied me, I wouldn’t be so caught up on this. I’m so hungry for it that it scares me. I’m going to get myself in trouble, trouble I can’t afford.

Beeeeep.

“Fucking hell.”

My hand slams back down on my phone and I clench it between my hands, raising it above my head to spy the screen. I immediately swipe the new message away and my gaze settles on the time across the screen.

7:48 am.

“Oh, fuck.”

I scramble out of bed and race across the room, bolting into my massive walk-in closet. I didn’t get a chance to go over my class schedule or the student handbook like Orlando had so kindly suggested. I’m sure he’s going to be so proud. School starts promptly at 8:40, and I’m going to have to find time to get dressed, make myself presentable, eat, and get my ass to school while leaving time to figure out the whole parking situation and get to the student office.



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