Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
Even with her hair and makeup a mess, Heather looks divine, with one side of her mouth lifting. “If I knew you were that good, we could’ve skipped the hating each other part and headed straight to fucking.”
I smirk back at her. “I told you, Heather, I never hated you.”
6
HEATHER
My brain tries to kick into gear after the fluttering in my pussy stops and I’m breathing normally again. Well, close to normal. The fact is, my heart still beats way above the normal rate, and my breath hitches each time Baron touches me.
His come drips down my pussy to my legs. I’ve never been filthier, and God, I like it too much. He’s bringing out a side to me I didn’t know existed, and I can’t say I mind one bit. Happiness and an unnamed emotion surge inside me, and I don’t even try to fight them down.
My body feels boneless, and my legs are close to useless—wobbly with each step. Baron attempts to lift me, but my skirts make it impossible for him to do so. So we wait until I’m steadier on my feet, sitting at the library and talking about everything and nothing.
Andrea was right. There’s so much more to Baron Bishop, and he’s not the airhead I thought he was.
When we finally emerge from the library, I’m doubling over, laughing at Baron’s impersonation of Alex. We come to a stop just outside the door, Alex and Corinne standing in front of us, wearing matching expressions of shock and horror.
“You fucking slut,” she spits venomously, eyes bulging and a flush turning her face deep red.
I’m too happy to let her dampen my spirits, so I flip my hair and turn to Baron. “I am, aren’t I?”
Baron cups my face with his big hands, and he runs a thumb along my bottom lip, smearing my lipstick to the side. “Yeah, you are. My beautiful, sexy slut.”
“And to think you were nothing but frigid with me,” Alex says with a scoff.
Maybe if he said that months ago, it would’ve hurt. Right now, though? The insult doesn’t even land. I shrug and let it slide, but Baron doesn’t.
He whirls around, holding my hand and staring daggers at Alex, who knows he crossed a line, and staggers back before catching himself. Baron’s voice is menacingly low when he warns, “You speak to her like that again—”
“Or what? She is a slut, isn’t she? Stringing men along but can’t even spread her legs to—”
It happens too fast—Baron clocks Alex in the jaw and grabs his throat to slam him against the wall. Alex claws at Baron’s arm, but Baron doesn’t budge, tightening his hand on Alex’s throat. “Let me finish speaking, you spineless small-dicked son of a bitch.”
At this point, Alex understands Baron’s strength, so he stops fighting. Instead, Alex’s face turns ashen. Tendons stand out on his neck, and beads of sweat form on his forehead. Not looking so tough now, are we?
Baron loosens his hold and moves closer. “Speak to Heather like that again, or you know what, look at her or breathe the wrong way around her and I’ll knock those veneers that’s as fake as your tan. Whoever told you orange and white look good together deserves jail time.”
Even when I hated him, Baron always came up with the wittiest, most hilarious insults. Unexpectedly, amusement stirs inside me, and I slap my hands to my mouth, trying to stifle my laughter. Alex loves fake tanning. He says it makes him look like an outdoorsy person even if the only outdoor activity he likes is when he walks from his house to his car.
“Do you enjoy this, Heather? Boys fighting over you?” Corinne rounds me. Her skin is still flushed, her mouth in a sneer. “This is what you’ve always wanted, huh? God, you’re pathetic.”
Baron looks at me over his shoulder, probably assessing if he should step in, and drops Alex. He doesn’t need to. Ever since, I never rose to Corinne’s baits—not when she pulled my pigtails and threw my brand new hair ties, not when she pushed me in front of guests at one of Mimi’s parties, not when she broke things at our home and blamed me for them, not when she showed up at school wearing my things, not when she broke into my bedroom multiple times to steal something she liked.
But enough is enough.
“No, Cor. YOU are pathetic. Honestly, I pity you too. You always saw me as competition, and I never felt the same way.”
“Don’t fucking patronize me,” she yells, a spittle landing on my cheek, her eyes wild. She didn’t expect things not to go her way since she had never looked this rattled.
“I’m not. You think you’re stealing from me—my things, my ex, my friends. But you know what? You’re not taking anything valuable from me.” I back up a little and cock my head to the side. “You’re picking up my trash.”