Page 9 of G.O.D.S Omnibus

“You”—I stab my finger into his chest, his gaze following—“have no right to tell me what to do.”

That was not the wisest idea. One second my finger is stabbing into his rock-hard pecs and the next Boston has my arm twisted behind my back, face planted against the wall.

“That is where you’re wrong. I do what the fuck I want, when I want, and no one will do a damn thing about it.”

Bucking my ass backwards into his pelvis, trying to free myself, has him grinding into me harder. My attempt to pushhim away has just turned him on. “If you want it, all you have to do is ask.”

“In your fucking dreams,” I growl out against the wall through smooshed lips.

His hand wanders under his friend’s shirt, skimming along my panty line.

A whimper leaves my mouth, my traitorous body turned-on as hell. This is the reason I’m fucked in the head. Nice guys like Brennan would be a decent choice, yet a guy like Boston has my body ready with one touch.

A single finger slides under the edge of my old, tattered underwear, running down my slit before entering me. I should fight him off, but the cloud of arousal takes over.

“You want me to fuck you right here in front of everyone?”

My lust disperses at his words. Coming back to earth, I push him away. This time he steps back, allowing me to turn around, his finger sliding between his lips.

I don’t even bother with words, turning to walk away.

“Jolie.”

“What, Boston?” I sigh, tired of the games already.

It’s been a long couple of days, and I need to get myself away from these guys and clear my mind for a bit. Any normal girl would be scared shitless after what I have been through, and yet strangely, I’m not. They fascinate me and I want to know more about them. Though I still plan to pay them back for the way they treated me—a girl has to get even.

“I was serious. You will not leave this house looking like that.” He scans the room until he finds what he’s looking for. “You,” he shouts, and the poor girl freezes. “Get undressed now.”

Eyes widened and mouth slack, she goes to say something, but her friend elbows her. Tears pooling in her eyes, she strips down to a plain cotton bra and panties. What the hell is a girl likethat doing here? Her gaze answers my question when she looks towards one of the guys, but he’s too busy smoking a joint.

I feel like I should stand up for her, but it’s hard to feel pity for her when she has to know they are not good people. Just looking around the room, it’s clear everyone here wants something. The girls wear skimpy clothes and lots of makeup, grinding on each other and hoping one of the guys will notice. The guys in the room want to be at the top of the food chain and are willing to join in on the bullshit games.

Not my circus, not my damn clowns.

My focus returns to the singled-out chick, and the look in her eyes is pure. Damn it, it won’t hurt to help a girl out.

Swaying my hips provocatively as I cross the room, the weight of Boston’s glare follows me, while Laughn swears and compliments my ass. Seductively, I straddle the boy that the girl was looking at and push his sunglasses up to the top of his head, stealing the joint from his mouth. He grins at me, though I’m surprised—I spat in his face the last time we were in the same room.

Pushing my pelvis into his hardened cock, I pull in a lungful of smoke, then lean forward until my lips touch his, delicately blowing the smoke into his mouth. His green eyes smile up at me, and I have accomplished what I wanted. I jump from his lap, give the joint back, and turn to face the girl with a smile. Her tears tell me she won’t ever be back here again. Mission accomplished.

The girl’s friend ushers her from the room.

Boston throws her clothes at me. “Get dressed.”

Reaching out, I catch the clothes before they hit the floor. I want to fight him and tell him to shove it up his ass, but we have gathered a crowd. No one makes a sound, but I know they are all watching us.

“Whatever,” I say through gritted teeth.

The oversized shirt is lifting past my head when someone yells out, “You want to put on a show, baby, I’m watching.”

Flipping him off, the shirt drops to the floor. I pull the girl’s high-waisted shorts over my hips, standing shirtless as I look up to see five sets of eyes watching me.

“What? Half the girls here before were topless.” I shrug, knowing damn well what I’m doing. I have no issues being naked in front of people.

“Those girls are whores. They do not live in the Myers house, and they do not represent the family name. You do now. The way you present yourself comes back on us,” Boston says.

“Well excuse me, mister high and mighty. I’m sure a party with half-naked girls and snorting blow off their tits would portray a nice image of your family, but my tits are not good enough?” I slip the black top over my breasts, flip Boston off, and storm from the room.

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