AllFreeNovel
Share Us
THEO
Ican think of better ways of spending my Friday night than having to deal with Sloane pawing over me like she owns my arse.
We’ve got people locked in Dad’s secret torture chamber. I’d rather be listening to them scream.
Or even better…
I could be listening to her scr—
My thoughts are forgotten when footsteps move my way.
I know she’s here. Her bike was parked under the shelter I made sure was installed a few weeks ago.
Resting back on Seb’s sofa, I widen my legs, my fists curling on my thighs as I wait.
I have no idea how I know it’s her. But I do.
She’s never been one to shy away, and I just know she’s walking out here with her head held high to prove a point.
It’s the reason I shouted for them to hurry the fuck up.
I knew she’d hear the words for what they were.
A challenge.
An invitation.
Her biker boots appear first. As usual, the laces are loose. It’s annoying as fuck, but I doubt that me telling her so will make her change her ways. She seems to go out of her way to piss me off at every turn, so it’ll just be more ammunition for her.
Her legs are covered in floral lace tights and my eyes track all the way up until they widen at the switchblade tucked into a strap around her thigh.
The sight makes my chest tighten.
The things I could do to her with that blade.
The guys ripped Seb for branding Stella the way he did. But fuck, did I fucking understand it.
My fists tighten, my short nails digging into my palms as I continue up, over her almost obscenely short, pleated black and white tartan skirt, to her black vest which shows the perfect tease of the kind of underwear she’s got on beneath. There are straps criss-crossing over her chest, the lace of the cups sitting well above the neck of her top.
Her hair is down, but she’s done something to make it huge, and her makeup, like normal, is dark. So fucking dark.
I bite down on the insides of my cheeks as I imagine just how fucking beautiful she’d look with it streaming down her cheeks as she choked on my cock.
Fuck.
I need to get a fucking grip where this girl is concerned.
She’s a liar. A traitor.
She’s my fucking—
I slam my thoughts down. They’re too fucked up to even begin to process, which is why I’ve mostly been living in denial since Dad dropped the bomb.
“Did you want to take a picture?” she sasses, her voice cutting through my thoughts and dragging my focus back to her. “You can make use of it later when you go to bed alone.”
Fighting to keep my expression neutral, almost bored, I run my eyes down the length of her body.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got better.”
