Skylah – Meet us out front.
Blake – The fuck? Why?
Skylah – Because we’re about to fuck shit up.
Blake – I’m in.
Within the space of seven minutes, Nessa is squished in the center of the back seat between Blake and Damian, looking somewhat nervous about what we’re about to do. It’s not even past nine in the morning yet, which Damian has already pointed out at least three times but when Slade met his eyes in the rearview mirror, some sort of message passed between them and he hasn’t complained since. In fact, he looks pretty fucking thrilled to be here.
As Slade starts driving out of town, Nessa sits forward, leaning as much into the front seat as possible, but Slade’s Dodge RAM is that fucking big that her head barely reaches between me and Slade.
“So, uh…was anyone actually going to tell us what we’re doing? Cause I had a huge self-care day planned. My hair was going to get the washing of a lifetime and my….” she trails off, grinning to herself. I can only imagine what she meant by self-care and I’d dare say it’s got something to do with the nasty things in her bedside drawer.
“We told you already,” Slade grumbles, still not completely used to the idea of me and Nessa hanging out though the more we do and the more he sees she’s not going to be a problem, the more he seems to come around. “We’re fucking shit up.”
“Yeah, but what’s getting fucked-up?”
Damian grins and looks down at her, trailing his eyes up and down her body. He drops his voice down low, low enough to make any red-blooded woman squirm. “You can get fucked-up if you want.”
Desire flashes in her eyes before she controls herself and puts her hand up to push him back. “Ugh, keep dreaming,” she groans in disgust. “I wouldn’t let you anywhere near me.”
Damian rests back against his seat, still keeping his heated gaze on her. “Uh-huh,” he laughs before nudging her with his elbow. “Did they ever tell you what their whole fight was about last week?”
“Nope,” she grumbles, flicking her eyes between me and Slade as Blake watches out the window, dangerously stuck inside his own head. “You?”
Damian shakes his head. “Nah, but I’m betting it has something to do with accidentally slipping it in the wrong hole. I know how you chicks get a bit upset over that shit.”
Blake’s fist comes shooting in front of Nessa and lands a devastating blow at the top of Damian’s thigh, instantly giving him a dead leg. As though she didn’t see a damn thing, Nessa continues. “Nah, it couldn’t be that. Slade’s extra careful about where he sticks that weapon after he accidentally slipped into Lyndall Weathers’ wrong hole and got bitch slapped in front of the whole school.”
My eyes go wide as I glance across at Slade to see him grinning proudly and I don’t bother asking if it’s true, clearly, it is. “That was no accident,” Slade confirms, glancing up in the rearview mirror. “She was the one guiding that thing and was embarrassed because she couldn’t take it.”
I watch him with my mouth hanging open. I hope he doesn’t want to shove that thing in my wrong hole. That’s definitely a no-go zone…at least for now…I think. “You can’t blame the girl,” I say, wondering if he’s really into it or if he just did it because she was putting it there. “That thing is a fucking monster. You would have torn her ass wide open.”
Pride shines through his eyes like never before and I have to roll my eyes at the idiot. Men and their dicks. Can’t live with them, but you sure as hell don’t want to live without them.
We drive into a suburban area and I start glancing around. I’ve never been here before and it clearly shows. Slade keeps going, not needing directions or guidance until he’s pulling up outside a high school. “What are we doing at Hunters High?” Nessa questions as Blake sits up straighter.
I turn to Slade. “Is this the Hunters High? Like, the Roman Westbrock Hunters High?”
“Damn straight it is,” he laughs. “Roman and his boys still need to pay for that shit they pulled on the courts and I figured, what better way to cheer up my girl?”
“What are we doing? Are we going to TP their houses and spray paint dicks onto their fences? Oh, we can draw dicks on their cars.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Damian grunts from the back, looking at me as though I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing. “What kind of bullshit payback is that? First up, we ain’t spray painting any dicks. That shit is for beginners, we’re here to fuck shit up.”
“So I keep hearing,” I grumble as he continues.