Page 32 of Speak

Pathetic.

“Get on birth control. When I take you,” apparently I’ve blurred every fucking line I have ever had as a man and as a professional. “It will be raw. I want no barriers between us. I want to watch my cum leaking from every single one of your holes.” I growl.

She turns to face me, a scowl written so harshly on her face, amber eyes narrowed, she slaps me, breaking whatever spell she cast on me. She shoves me out of the way, strong little thing, and slams the door to my office shut after fixing herself.

I let myself drop into my chair, the squeak breaking the silence. I rub my cheek, the scent of her still on my lips, I open the bottom drawer of my desk and pull out the bottle of Macallan and the tumbler I keep for special circumstances. None such as these.

I should report myself. I should report her. Us.

But if she won’t speak, why should I? I’ve worked hard to be where I am. I didn’t have mommy or daddy’s money. I had me, myself, and I.

So if she doesn’t speak, why should I?

Because it’s wrong, Maverick. It’s so, so, so fucking wrong.

And yet, I can’t find not even one fuck to give.

Chapter Nine

Jonas.

“You don’t think this whole nonverbal thing is a way to trick you?”

I glare at Chase who’s chewing a mouthful of turkey, bacon, avocado and Swiss on toasted gluten-free low-carb rye in the noisy dining hall. “Trick me into what? What the fuck are you even saying?”

“Nothing. He’s being a dick.” Riordan quips.

“No, I’m being a good friend and watching out for him. The entire student body is saying she’s faking it. Melissa said she heard her talking to someone in her room the other night.”

I drop my pizza and stare at the gorgeous all-American identical frat boys sitting across from me. “What?”

Chase shrugs and Riordan looks down at his roasted chicken breast and broccoli. Since I’ve known them, Riordan is the freakish health-nut during on season, being the leaner twin. Chase just makes up his carb-loading by hitting the gym extra hard, being the more stacked, sturdy of the two. But they’re both incredibly good looking, like dirty blonde Henry Cavill's. One glance and the women here throw their panties at them.

Us.

Out of all the families that own this town, the Prescott’s are richer than sin. They're old money from England, but they own the oldest retail companies. All of them. Any large chain store you can think of, they own. Sure, people think they’re owned by separate companies but in the end, if you connect all the dots, the Prescott’shave funded any large retail chain and own over sixty percent of shares in every business.

Behind them are the Monroe's. Raven’s great-great grandfather owned bookstores along the entire east and west coast, in the nineties, it was online bookstores, rivaling Amazon. Then her stepdad with his techs and gadgets; the Monroe's are newish money. Only a few decades old.

Followed by my family; the fucking Andersons with their billion-dollar realty company that was established in 1952.

Fact of the matter is, we own this fucking school. Between our three families, by nothing but surnames and wealth – are the elite. The big bad fucking monsters, the legacies who're in the back of everyone’s minds and yet hushed when spoken about. Nobody else fucking matters. Not them, not their families, not even their barely-a-blip money. And they know it.

That’s why when I took a semester off and came back, nobody said shit to me. Yeah, they talked about me, sure. Never to my face. Besides, it was all just rumors. Nobody could prove a goddamn thing. Riordan and Chase have an inkling as to what happened - even had the balls to ask me about it once. I shot them a glare and topped off the bottle of the twenty-four-year-old bottle of Macallan.

Nobody will ever - can ever know. I’ll take this secret to my fucking grave.

Fuck I miss George right now. I gotta tell him all about Raven.

“Melissa is a fucking pathological liar and an attention whore. Didn’t she pretend to be pregnant last year? One of yours? For a whole four months?” I deflect.

Chase swallows. “We signed an NDA; we can’t talk about that.”

I roll my eyes as Riordan sighs. “We’re just worried about you man; we haven’t seen you like this with anyone since… you know.”

Images of a caramel blonde with wavy locks and piercing blue eyes infiltrates my brain and I could violently spew out my three slices of pizza right now. I stand up, grabbing my tray from the table. “Raven’snother. If you’re being my fuckingfriends, then trust me when I tell you Raven’s not faking it and she’s… she’s nother. She'll neverbeher.”

“Okay, JoJo. Okay. Sit down. We trust your judgment. We’re just… you know, looking out for you is all.”

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