Page 31 of The Tenth Circle
Which is why, from the moment I saw the fire in Hendrix Montgomery’s eyes in the storage closet I was addicted—to her smart mouth and how it didn’t back down when I bared my teeth. To her hitched breaths as I tasted the sweet pussy she hides between her legs.
I was a motherfucking goner.
I wanted more.
No. Ineededmore.
And that’s precisely why I refused to take it.
Saint Lavell gets on his knees for no one. So when this girl managed to bring me to them in minutes I knew I had to shut that shit down. Drive her crazy to keep me from drowning in mine.
Thankfully, Hendrix’s insecurities made it so fucking easy.
That is, until she proved on that elevator her crazy didn’t stop at letting a stranger finger fuck her in the dark. Once again Hendrix flipped the script, and I’ve spent the rest of the year flipping it back. Fucking her in every way possible that doesn’t include my cock.
Sexual innuendos, manipulation, pranks. Whispering threats of violence on her friends, fuck buddies, and precious art supplies when she pissed me off.
I even transferred into each one of her classes, including the drawing elective shewillinglytook up. The class was boring as shit, and if this girl didn’t spend every free moment outside of school wrapping her fingers around pencils, I’d think she enrolled just to torture me.
Let’s put it this way—if petty was a wall, I’ve been busy nailing every inch of it.
But Hendrix Montgomery has been busy too.
Being a brat. A detective. But mostly a fucking tease.
Using these talents to gather intel on me for her spank bank.
Likes, dislikes, favorite colors, games, and sexual preferences. Granted, when it comes to the last one there’s not much I leave to the imagination.
Being shy with my cock was never my strong suit.
Everyone who knows me knows I love to fuck.
A lot.
And that I’m damn fucking good at it.
But little Miss “Judge a Book by its Body Count” has managed to learn a bit more about me than I expected thanks toherbest friend endgaming it withmybest friend.
And courtesy of Crayton and Bex finding love in fucked up places—the entire dynamic of the Royal Heathens has shifted.
Because now we have a queen.
And I have a…I don’t fucking know what to call it with her stuck up friend.
“Yo, Lavell!” Riggs shoves my shoulder, breaking me out of my daze. When I look over he’s passing the joint we’ve been nursing for thirty minutes. “I’m starting to feel neglected.”
The asshole’s got a flare for the dramatics, and since he’s heading toward the end of his sophomore year, seems the trend will be following him into junior year too.
I take a deep pull, examining whatever’s left of the paper before blowing out smoke.
“You take care of what I told you to?”
“Would I ever let you down?” He takes the joint back, bringing it to his lips. “I handled that shit like a motherfucking boss. Took ’em for everything they got.”
There’s the sound of an irritated huff, coming from my left, with his cousin Leviathan Creed’s name written all over it.
He’s the least annoying one out of the two. I know this because the guy's had sixteen years to try and steal the title and is yet to succeed.
