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Rook has a video.
My cock turns into a rod as I watch. Sadistic need fills every inch of my being.
"I want to find that bitch and make her pay for leaving me with a hard dick."
"Me, too." Rook’s eyes turn to slits. "I’ve never fucked a bitch I can’t get out of my mind."
Rook is a ladies’ man. When he was a teenager, he had no fewer than fifteen bitches at his beck and call. At fifteen, he was fucking two of his teachers, dominating them before class, and he had at least twenty of the college bitches that lived at the nearby dorms in his DMs.
His market value only increased after he went to juvie. Every woman in a ten-mile radius knew he was trouble. They’d throw roses into his bedroom window at night with their numbers in hopes that the seven-foot beast would bless them with his eleven-inch cock.
"She deserves to pay for what she’s done."
"You can say that again."
I punch the wall beside Rook’s head, forming a hole. My fist doesn’t even sting. The thought of her spreading her legs and taking my cock is a numbing agent. It protects me, envelops me in a cloud of armor.
Rook sends me the video. I replay it over and over as we walk through campus. We’re both rock hard and tenting out in our khakis. Every girl stares at us unsure of why our cocks are erect.
Alpha. Shit.
Any other man would get kicked out of Saintswood for walking around campus with a rock-hard cock.
Not us.
Not the Kings of the Sinners.
"Delete the video." I turn to Rook with a serious expression.
"Why?"
"To protect her dignity." I delete the video off my own phone and remove it from my recently deleted folder, too. "If some jealous hater ever took our phones, the last thing I’d want would be for her to get caught up in the crosshairs."
Rook nods. In a flash, he deletes the video.
"We don't need a video of that night." I smirk.
"Tell me why."
"That bitch will be on her knees again for us. Mark my words."
TWO
OLIVIA
I’m in a daze as I walk through the halls. I haven’t spoken to Rina all week because I have no idea what to tell her.
My head is spinning and my insides feel all sorts of fucked up.
The Kings of the Sinners had their way with me. They used me, painted me with their seed, and abandoned me. I washed their cum off in a frat house bathroom sink and managed to find a spare pair of sweatpants in a drawer to crawl back to my dorm in because Brock ripped my leggings.
What in God’s name did they see in me? Rina is the type of girl they should’ve gone after or any other girl at that party in cat ears.
Not me.
Not the girl who was staring at the moon while recalling her favorite poems.
"They’re bullies." Tightening my grip on my backpack, I march toward the girl’s bathroom. Gusts of September wind blow my auburn hair back through the open bathroom window, sending it coursing through the air and down my neck.
