AllFreeNovel
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I head toward the nearest water fountain, pulling up a Spotify playlist I made last night as I refill my water bottle. The playlist contains dark academia classical music, and after I slide in my earbuds, I close my eyes as the notes of Chopin and Debussy fill my ears.
Three shadows fall across my face.
My heart catches in my chest.
I turn my head up with dread as I open my eyes.
"We’ve been looking for you everywhere." Rook looks me up and down, eyeing me in my oversized sweater.
"Tell us why you’ve been hiding from us." Brock’s eyes narrow.
I let go of my bottle and back up against the water fountain, my palms growing sweaty. I pull out my earbuds. "I don't want to speak to you two."
"You’d better not still be upset about last weekend." Rook steps toward me.
"Yeah, bitch." Brock glares at me. "That was six whole days ago."
"I’m trying to relax." I gesture to my phone and earbuds, then to my water bottle. "No offense, but I don't want to talk to either of you."
"Tell me why you’re wearing such an ugly fucking sweater." Brock tugs at the sleeve of my sweater.
I move to the side in shock, unable to believe he just insulted me and touched me without my permission. What the fuck? What kind of guy marches over to a girl he viciously hurt less than a week ago, invades her space, and tells her that her clothes are ugly?
"If you don't remember, you and your friends made me uncomfortable last weekend. I’m wearing this so you’ll please leave me alone." I speak politely so I don't upset them.They don't look like the type you want to piss off.
Rook glares at me. "You should be in a satin dress that shows off every inch of that perfect figure."
"Agreed." Brock sinks his teeth into his lower lip. "You’re not being very fair to us men by dressing like that. Making my dick hard imaging what’s underneath."
Rook slams his fist on Brock’s shoulder. "Maybe she’s doing us a favor. Keeping that sexy ass covered up so no other men know what she has."
I wipe my hands on my sweatpants. "Please. Leave me alone."
My eyes flit between the two men again. I hate to admit it, but Brock looks… even more ripped than he did at the party. He wears a tailored shirt that does little to conceal the immense muscular frame that lurks underneath. The skull tattoo characteristic of all players on the Sinners flickers on his bicep in the sunlight, communicating deadly masculine energy. His green eyes shine like emeralds under the light in a jeweler’s shop, and the diamond-encrusted Rolex on his left wrist contains actual emeralds, which in a strange twist of events mirror those in his eyes. Brock’s bulge protrudes from his khakis, and the fact that he’s already hard while talking to me does something to my insides.
Every bit of Rook has also intensified. His thick head of dark hair is still buzzed, but he sports fresh ink on his neck that wasn’t there last week that creeps up to his jaw. His pecs bulge out of his Louis Vuitton T-shirt, and I can’t overlook his giant cock that’s stretching out and hardening in his deep olive khakis as he speaks to me. Rook is the type of man who’d lift every inch of my five-foot frame and fuck me without even needing to press my back to a wall. He could walk around campus fucking me, breeding me and planting babies in my belly while trapping my screams behind my teeth with his fist and supporting me with his other hand.
Rook approaches me on my left. "Let’s play a game."
Brock does the same on my right. "That’s a great idea."
"No." My knees begin to tremble as I look at each Sinner, one on my left and the other on my right. Their cologne assaults my nose, making me dizzy.
Their khakis rise up as they step forward, and I spot their ankles, which turns my mouth to cotton. These are the same ankles that flex with power and sinewy muscle as they race across the football field to win games. These two men sitting beside me are winners in every sense of the word. It’s not only the field they dominate:it’s life.
Rook takes my hand in his. I shrink away, trying to yank it back, but his grip is far too strong. My eyes lock on his hands, and I’m in shock to lay eyes on the biggest, most dominant, alpha male hand I’ve ever borne witness to in my life.
"A game, bitch." Rook squeezes my petite hand, eliciting a hissy breath from my lips. "I’m talking to you."
"I don't want to play a game."
"We know nothing about you. This game will help us figure out who you really are."
"My name is Olivia Rose. I’m a freshman who you hurt last weekend. Before you three, I’d never done anything with a man."
Brock places his enormous palm on my left thigh, and the sight makes my veer toward Rook. His hand is so massive, so perfect for gripping footballs, that he can touch his palm to his middle finger simply by surrounding my thigh. I’m a tiny freshman so I’m aware most guys can probably fit their hands around my wrists, but I didn’t expect Brock to with my thigh. "Here’s the thing, slut. We don't believe you."
"Believe what you want. It’s the truth." I try to sound as convincing as I can. Iambeing honest. "You three bullied me into giving something up that I didn’t want to give."
