Chapter Eighteen
Blair
To say I’m even more angry when sober would be an understatement. These fucking Crew brothers need to be taken down a peg. I’m not the type to let an insult like that stand. Deep inside, I know I let it affect me so badly because... fuck. I give a shit what they think, and to hear they think I’m a mess? A fucking easy mess? It devastated me, but my reaction to being hurt or upset is built on years of mistrust, anger, and pain.
I act out like the mess they call me, but now it’s focused on making them pay... or more importantly, making Cyrus pay. Everyone worships the ground he walks on. They fear him and refuse to even look at him in case it causes insult. Well, I’ve been living on borrowed time for a year or so now, so I’m not fucking scared.
I’m going to embarrass him in front of everyone. I’m going to take that crown and turn it into a devil’s halo and make him look like the asshole he really is. I’m going to show people that I’m not afraid of my stepbrothers and that I shouldn’t be messed with.
I may be a hot mess, I may even be easy like he calls me, but I’m also something else too...
I’m a fucking bitch, and it’s time they realised that.
No man is going to make me feel like he did. My worth is not dependent on others’ opinions of me. I know what I’ve survived, I know what I’m capable of, and I know how smart, talented, and fun I am. Fuck him and his words. He’ll never dare insult me again.
Not after tonight.
Tugging on my dress, I straighten it as much as I can. The mix of watercolour red, brown, and orange material hugs my curves and rides up. It’s tied down each side with thin bands, exposing my sides all the way from thigh to side boob. At the top, the material cowls, exposing my impressive cleavage, and it’s short enough that when I walk, I almost flash my bare pussy. I still have on my ass kicking boots, though, with a leather jacket thrown over my shoulders. My hair is curled, my lips are bright red, and my eyes are smoky and lined.
I look fucking hot, and I know it. I use my body to get what I want, and tonight will be no different, only this time it’s not for work or men... it’s for revenge.
The party is in full swing as I strut up the long, beige, cobbled drive to the huge, detached mansion. All these rich fuckers have no concept of money, playing gangster and partying. I shake my head as I step inside. Faye is on a date again, so I’m flying solo which is good—she might have tried to stop me. Wandering past the already drunk, slurring men and women, I search for my target, sipping a red cup filled with beer as I wander through the luxurious party.
I spot Walker dancing with a girl and grin, good for him. Turning away, I spy my prey. She’s sitting on the sofa and glaring down at her phone. Her friends are turned away from her, chatting between themselves, and she looks lonely. When she drops her phone with a sad expression and tosses back her drink, I know I have her.
He treats her like shit, like a disposable cunt, so I’m taking advantage of that. I head over and extend a drink I grabbed on the way. She looks up at me and instantly glares. “What the hell do you want? Do you know where he is?”
“He said something about a girl.” I shrug. “Haven’t seen him since.”
Pain flashes through her eyes, and I only feel slightly bad. Swiping the cup, she knocks it back and wipes her mouth as I perch on the coffee table before her. I purposely cross my legs so the dress rises. I saw her interest last time, and it flares now. Her gaze travels along my body before quickly meeting mine as her face flushes in embarrassment.
Good. If she hadn’t been interested, this wouldn’t have worked, and I wouldn’t have forced it.
She’s going to fight it though, but I’ve never been one to back down, and it will make it all much sweeter. Leaning closer to be heard over the thumping bass, I give her a sympathetic look. “He’s an asshole, girl. Is the dick really worth all that hassle?”
“You don’t know him like I do,” she spits and then seems to sag, her black and white checked crop top and tiny mini skirt exposing her pale skin as she flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder. She has a great body, good tits and ass, and big pouty lips. I see why Cyrus keeps her around. “I don’t know, okay? I—” She looks at her friends who haven’t even noticed she’s upset. “Why the fuck am I telling you this?”
“Because I can’t judge you. I don’t know either of you.” I shrug and tip back my drink.
“He never used to be this bad, but one night some guys approached me after they saw me with him. They threatened me simply for knowing him.” She leans closer, her eyes wide. “They even had guns.” That makes my eyebrows rise, but I’m not surprised since they are drug dealers. “Ever since then, all I am to him is a quick fuck, and only when he can’t hold out anymore. Not even when I want it... I mean, last time he didn’t even make me come. He literally fucked me against a wall, drunk as hell, came, and left me there.” Her eyes widen at her confession, and I toast her with my cup.
“Your secret is safe with me. Want another drink?” I ask, and she shakes her head, her eyes already slightly buzzed from the alcohol. I need her sober enough to consent, which she is right now. The music pumps harder, and her friends walk away to dance. I take another sip, and she watches me swallow. I set down the cup, knowing now is the time, especially when I hear the roar of their bikes over the music. Leaning in, I let her get a good look at my tits like she was trying to without being obvious.
“He didn’t make you come?” I ask quietly, and she frowns.
“What did you say?”
Getting up, I purposely sit close, leaning in until my mouth is at her ear and my body is pressed against her side. “I said, he didn’t make you come, really?”
She shivers and presses into me before she realises what she’s doing and straightens. Her lips roll in, even as I see her nipples pebbling under her shirt. “No,” she replies, her voice slightly breathless.
“That’s not right,” I coo and swipe my tongue down her ear until she gasps. Reaching up, I twirl a strand of her hair around my finger and tug. “Want me to make up for what he missed out on?”
“W-What?” she queries almost dumbly, but she knows.
“Don’t act coy, it’s not your way. Do you want me to make you come?” I purr into her ear, and she shakes her head slightly, even as her thighs clench together, and I have a feeling she’s holding back out of uncertainty.
“Are you sure, babe? One stranger to another, it will mean nothing. You look like you could stand to lose some of that tension.” I pull back then, and she turns slightly, her eyes dropping to my lips as she swallows.