Page 67 of Wanted By a King

I hate that he has the audacity to look like he’s disappointed in me. LikeI’mthe unreasonable one.

Bastard Can Fuck Drenched Pussy Loudly.

I stay outside even when the music is cranked up, the smell of food wafts through the air, and the Kings become rowdier than normal.

The Cunts who venture outside stay clear of me, which suits me fucking perfectly. I’m not in the mood to interact with any of them, let alone talk. So when the group of women a few tables from me begin to catcall the Kings, I don’t so much as look in their direction.

I feel terrible about what happened to Mama. But what makes me feel even shittier is that I knew it was wrong and still lorded it over her head. I fucking threatened her at the Fourth of July party.

Despite what I said to her in that elevator, I would never tell them. I might not have known what she risked when she set me free, but I knew it was something.

“Fuck yeah, Rose. Show us what you’re made of.”

Munroe’s bellow easily makes its way to my ears, and I roll my eyes.

“How about a show?” another King suggests.

“You want a show?” Rhiannon hollers. “I’ll fucking give you a show.”

At her words, the Cunts out here make their way inside.

“That’s it, Rhi-Rhi. Show them what you’re made of,” Beth laughs. Then she turns and looks right at me as she says, “After all, the princess doesn’t care.”

The evil smirk she sends my way causes my hackles to rise, and before I can stop myself, I’m on my feet. I push through the throng of people in my way, not stopping until I’m in the middle of the room.

“What the fuck?” I hiss as soon as I see what they’re all looking at.

Sasha, Rose, and Rhiannon are dancing on the bar. Well, maybe dancing is too generous of a term for what they’re doing.

Wearing nothing but white thongs and white nipple tassels, they’re writhing, gyrating, and moving provocatively on the bar while several of the Kings are gathered around, all egging them on.

When the song changes into a sultry Latin hit that’s topping most streaming services, Rose looks straight at me. “Let’s do some body shots,” she suggests. Her lips turn upward in a mockery of a smile. “After all, the best way to get over the loss of one of us is to get under another.”

The Kings whoop as she reaches for a bottle of tequila. I watch as she pours some into her mouth, and I’m certain that it’s on purpose she doesn’t swallow all of it. Instead, allowing it to drip down her chin and onto her, now glistening, tits.

Since she’s still looking straight at me, I raise an eyebrow and swirl my hand through the air in a ‘go on’ motion. Honestly, I’ve been here long enough for practically naked bodies not to bother me. If she thinks she’s flustering me, she’s wrong. Dead fucking wrong.

“Who’s first?” Sasha calls out, laughing gleefully as several Kings, including Slayer and Munroe, step forward.

“I have a better idea,” Rhiannon says. Her eyes trace over the onlookers, and she doesn’t stop until she looks straight at Grayson. “Let’s do it by rank.”

“You bitch,” I hiss under my breath, but by the way she smirks in my direction I’m sure she either heard or read my lips.

“Not interested,” Grayson protests.

Acting like they think it’s part of the fun, Slayer, Munroe, and Gunner drag him up to the bar, not letting go of his arms until they’ve lifted him up and splayed him out for Rhiannon’s benefit. And she wastes no fucking time straddling him.

“Hey there, VP,” she greets, lowering herself until she’s sitting on his fucking crotch.

I’m prepared to wait for Grayson to push her off him until I remember something very fucking important. I can’t keep letting myself be a victim, just as I can’t wait for someone to save me.

“Get your hands off him,” I growl as I make my way to the bar.

“Aww what’s the matter, Z? You don’t like sharing?” Rhiannon taunts.

But she’s not the Cunt I have my eyes on. Although she’s the one touching what’s fucking mine, that’s not the real issue. Rhiannon is nothing but a puppet, and Rose is the fucking puppet master.

You don’t survive high school without knowing a thing or two about mean girls. Since I was no angel, I’m good at spotting dynamics and use it to my own advantage. It’s basic human nature, and a big part of what intrigued me enough to apply to Harvard.

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