Little Plaything: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 1)

by Belladona Cunning

  “Get a good look, Kingston, because that’s all you will ever get,” I sneer.

  His eyes flick up to mine, burning me all the way to my soul. A challenge of sorts glimmers in his beautiful, sensual gaze, and I don’t miss when his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. “Oh, you’ll give me that and so much more, brat.”

  Rolling my eyes, I force myself past them and thread my arm through Kamila’s. Turning my head back to peer at them over my shoulder, I release a taunting grin—one filled with malice, lust, need, all the goddamn feelings soaring through my body. Brett’s eyes darken with ravenous intent as he takes a step toward me, but Chaz’s hand darts out to stop him.

  “The only way you’ll get me is in your dreams, Kingston. You can fuck me, tease me, but you’ll never have me. In fact, I’d rather fuck Chaz.” Kamila’s back shoots ramrod straight, forcing a smirk to fall over my lips as my eyes trek over to Chaz. I run my hot, needy gaze over his entire body, before settling my eyes on his. “Mmm, ride me, baby, it’s been entirely too long.”

  I laugh when Chaz’s mouth falls open, and turn on a dime, leading Kamila out of my room. I don’t know if the guys will do anything to my meager belongings, but I sure as shit can’t stay here with them a moment longer. I’d be tempted to allow him to do all those dirty things and much more to me, even though they’re all being douches.

  I like the bad boys, even if they’re terrible for my health.

  “You just started a war,” Kamila whispers, and I smile despite my situation.

  I may have started a war, but at least I won the battle.

  CHAPTER 8

  Two Months Later …

  Over the next few months, it’s the same thing just different days. Brett tries to find a weak spot to get in with me. Dorran allows the pricks that ruined my door that first night to continue ruining my door, my life, and now my education. Chaz … well, he can’t stop looking at me. Every time our eyes meet, I can practically see my words swirling in rapid speeds. They turn liquid molten each and every time.

  Also, another group of someone’s can’t stop glaring at me, either. It’s what the kids like to refer to them as the ‘DLG’s.’ Honestly, they look more like pugs with squished noses tilted up into the air, like their shit don’t stink.

  News flash, boo-boo, it’s shit—it always stinks.

  Kamila and I have grown close since that night, which is surprising to say the least. I figured just as soon as we left the guys in my room, mouths open and disbelief swirling through their minds, she’d ditch me. But she hasn’t. She meets me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—since we have no classes together. Then, after school, she comes over and we hang until it’s time to go to sleep. There are some nights she doesn’t make it because of ‘problems’ but other than that, we’re together all the time.

  I didn’t think I’d still be here, with it almost leading into November, but I am. I also didn’t think the drive to leave wouldn’t be the first thing on my mind when I wake up, but again, it isn’t. I actually like it here, surprisingly. Not because of its luxurious nature, but because of the scene. It’s homey, and I haven’t felt at home in such a long time.

  It’s not as terrific as New Jersey, but it’s not as bad either. The only thing that would make it better is if the guys weren’t here. I might allow myself to settle in and look forward to a future of what RPA has to offer.

  Kamila’s abrupt arrival pulls me from my thoughts, causing a large smile to spread across my face. “Sup, chick?”

  She smiles, then growls softly under her breath. I still don’t have the heart to tell her that her growls remind me of a stubborn kitten refusing to play. “I’m about to kill Mr. Robinson, I swear. That dude has a hard on for any pair of tits that walks past him, but if you don’t want to show him the goods, he’s a hardass.”

  Figures. “He’s a dick; just like the rest of the population here.”

  She nods, grabbing up her slice of pizza. I smile as I take a bite of my own, chewing thoroughly. “Do you want to go shopping this weekend?” She asks, peering up at me and wiping the grease from the corner of her lips with a cloth napkin. Yes, even with something as mundane as pizza, they give you cloth napkins.

  Surprisingly, I haven’t been shopping since I got here. I haven’t needed to. The school provides uniforms, and most of the time I wear those until around bedtime, anyway. So, I never thought too much into grabbing a slip from the office to get off campus for a day. They make everyone sign out that’s in their junior and senior year, even if they are eighteen. Since they’re responsible for us, and many of the students' parents are richer than God, they make it a point to know where we are, how long we will be there, and when we’ll be back.

  This school is a better parent than my own. Since the beginning of September, my father hasn’t called me once. It’s almost the second week in November. That’s two-and-a-half months since I’ve heard a word from him, and it’s not for the lack of technology, either. He’s just too enamored with Laura and her magical pussy, because let’s face it, she has to have something special for him to ghost me. He’s never been the type before, but now, he’s turned into a different person.

  A person like them. A money-hungry asshole that forgets what’s important. Either that, or Laura has something to do with him not reaching out.

  Shaking myself, I force a smile and regard Kamila. “Sure. We’ll have to go to the office and apply for slips. Let’s say Saturday?”

  She grins, nodding. “I want to hit Gucci and Prada while we’re at the outlet mall.” Her Gucci and Prada are my Wal-Mart and Rue 21.

  Reighton’s ‘outlet mall’ is not like a regular outlet mall I became accustomed to in New Jersey. I’ve not even been to this outlet mall, and already I know this just from hearing Kamila speak animatedly while we consume spectacular food. Instead of Abercrombie and Fitch, there’s Chanel. Instead of Aeropostale, there’s Gucci, Prada, Hermes, Ralph Lauren, Burberry, DeMika Amor, I.V.Y—you name it, they have it.

  It’s pretentious, just like all things Reighton.

  “Sounds good to me.” I take another bite, then wipe my fingers off. “Maybe you can show me around this Podunk town.”

  That gives her pause, causing her face to screw up in confusion. “Podunk? You do realize this town caters to an eighth of the world’s wealthiest families, right?”

  I smirk. “It was a joke, Kamila.”

  “Oh, well, I knew that.” My smirk turns into a grin at the flush coming over her cheeks. It’s always so easy to get a rise out of Kamila. I don’t do it often, but it’s a sight to behold when I do.

  “Sure, you did.” She sticks her tongue out at me, then bursts into a fit of laughter.

  We settle into compatible silence, each of us shoveling food into our mouths as if it’s our last meal. I finish my slice of pizza, then go to open my Perrier, but commotion coming from behind stops me in my tracks. I glance up at Kamila, seeing her food forgotten as she peers over my shoulder at something. I see a brief lick of fear leech into her face seconds before I know what it was for.

  Cold, sticky liquid slams into my back, making me grunt and tip forward. I have to grab the edge of the table from the force to keep from hitting my gut on the edge. I hear a sickening sludge hit the ground behind me, and I know without a doubt someone—an asshole probably—just ruined one of my school blazers being a dumbass.

  Calmer than I feel, I rise to my feet, inwardly cringing when liquid slides down my leg and into my boot. It’s wet, icky, and disgusting as it congregates down at the bottom. Before too long, there’s a puddle gathering into the toe of my boots. Slowly, I glance down at myself. I vaguely hear snickering from a nearby table, but it’s hard to tell past the blood whooshing through my ears.

  Swinging around, my eyes pin the offending bitch to her spot. I recognize her as the girl that sat in Brett’s lap that first day. Patricia Cooper—queen bitch of the DLG’s—if my sources are correct. She stands there flanked by her cronies, all wearing matchin
g leering smirks on their faces.

  “Did you forget where you’re going or just have a brief lapse in understanding how walking works?” I seethe, shaking off the back of my shirt.

  She steps close to me, teetering in her too-tall heels. Those are definitely not regulation pumps. “Let this be a warning, whore. Mess with Brett, and things will get so much worse than this.”

  I can’t stop the menacing smirk from twisting my features. “Maybe you need to tell your man that, considering it’s him who is trying to fuck me.”

  “He wouldn’t touch you,” she growls, pressing closer.

  “Only because I won’t let him,” I counter.

  Her face turns a deep shade of red, and she looks like she’s constipated if I can be frank about it. Her tiny hands fist by her sides, and I know she wants nothing more than to punch my lights out. Except, if she wants to get out of this unscathed, she better think twice before hitting me. I didn’t grow up in the worst parts of New Jersey a pussy. I defended myself against girls that make Patricia seem like child’s play.

  “Stay away from him,” she grits out. “This is your only warning.”

  With that, she twists in her heels and sets off toward their table. My eyes flit from her back, meeting Brett’s. There’s a look of anger living in his expression, but he simply does nothing except sit there, surrounded by Dorran and Chaz. Knowing him, he’s probably scared to piss Ms. Little Pathetic off. That’s why he has stopped none of the bullying that’s been going on.

  I know it’s her now, whereas before I had an inkling. It doesn’t take more than a few heated words and someone’s lunch sludging up my back to make the connection. She’s marking her territory, but instead of doing it the right way, she thinks she can warn everyone off with force.

  Well, that’s not how it works in New Jersey, and unfortunately, that’s not how it will work out here in Reighton, either. I didn’t have a problem with them before, but now that I know it’s her and her cronies making my life hell, I’m going to return the favor.

  I will not sit around and allow others to treat me like I’m less than, simply because my father married into money. I will not be labeled a whore, slut, tramp—all because those little DLG’s feel threatened of me and what I evoke in their men.

  If they want to feel intimidated, then that’s all on them. And I refuse to act like what they’re doing isn’t bothering me, because it is. I refuse to allow them to force me into a corner by bullying me. If you did something back in Jersey, expect to get the same treatment. I’m not interested in their men, even though their mere presence makes my body sing a whimsical tune of need, lust, and desire. All the things. They make me feel all the fucking things. But that still doesn’t mean the girls can bully me into submission. It will not go down like that.

  Now, I have a new reason to go into Reighton this weekend, instead of shopping and hanging out. I just hope Kamila wants to be an accomplice, because shit’s about to go down and I need a partner in crime.

  CHAPTER 9

  As we stand near the curb, waiting for the academy’s car to retrieve us, I mentally go over the checklist once more.

  Rope.

  Dye.

  Scissors.

  Hardware glue.

  Chalk.

  Itching powder

  I smile to myself, then peer over at Kamila to find she’s already glancing in my direction. She has this look about her, like she knows something’s going to happen. She’s not entirely wrong, then again, I’m not the type to divulge in my plan until it’s almost time to go through with it.

  I’ve been stewing over the altercation in the lunchroom since Wednesday when it happened. It’s now Saturday, and it’s eating me up inside. The DLG’s walk around, shooting taunting smiles my way, and it takes everything I have not to go at them old school. Ball my hands into tight fists and wreck the thousands of dollars their parents spent on plastic surgery.

  Trust me, they tempt me like no other, but I refuse to go down like that. Instead, I’m going to get dirty. Downright filthy in my revenge. When this is all over, they will cower at the very sight of me, knowing just to what lengths I will go to enact my vengeance.

  “You look lethal,” Kamila jokes.

  I fight a sinister smile that wants to bloom across my face. That’s because I am. “It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing?” she scoffs, turning her eyes back to the curb when our car pulls up next to it.

  Well, a car would be an understatement. The school sent a limo for us to take to town. It’s like they try so hard, but if they’d allow their glowing education to stand out for them, they’d be so much better off. I stand silently as the driver gets out of his seat and makes his way toward our door. Opening it, I nod my head in thanks, then silently slide in with Kamila following close behind.

  A genuine grin breaks out across my face when he closes the door. We’re so close to getting out of here, I can practically smell victory and chili cheese dogs. But that jubilance falls away when I hear distant shouts, begging the driver to wait. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  Craning my neck, I peer through the window and see Brett, Chaz, and Dorran all hurrying toward the car. A cell phone is plastered against the side of Dorran’s face, and he appears almost frantic. He’s talking animatedly to the person on the other end of the line, a frown marring his features.

  “Kamila, I thought you said we’d get our own car,” I break my gaze with them to stare at her.

  “We’re supposed to. No other student had a tag to get out of school today.” She looks at who’s sidling up to the car. “They’re not supposed to be out here.”

  Frowning, I don’t have enough time to react before they force the car door open. I don’t even have enough time to remove my arm from the rest and almost go tumbling out onto the curb.

  “Fucking dick!” I seethe, catching myself. I bat away the hand that tries to help me, knowing it’s one of them by the familiar energy rippling across the surface of my skin.

  “I didn’t mean to do that,” Chaz states, and for once he doesn’t sound like he’s being condescending or assholish. He sounds genuinely sorry.

  Growling under my breath, I stay in my seat. Peering up at all them, I see they’re waiting for me to move, but I have no intention of doing that. This is our car, and if they want to leave the school, they can sign out and get a tag just like every other person. Just because their leader’s family donates obscene amounts of money to the school shouldn’t be reason enough for them to leave whenever they want.

  Brett cocks his brow in question. “Are you going to let us in?”

  I tilt my head to the side, like a bitch, and regard them. “Nope.”

  He frowns, and I fight a smile from spreading when I see he’s genuinely confused as to why I wouldn’t. I could go into all the reasons, but there’s only one that matters: he’s a dick.

  “Scoot over, brat,” he releases in a bored tone.

  “Get the hell out of here, asshole,” I sing-song in return.

  I hate to admit this, but our bickering gets me a little hot beneath the tits. Sue me. Doesn’t mean I will act on it; especially with someone like Brett, Chaz, or Dorran. It would be different if they approached me like a normal, civilized human being, especially Brett on my first day. But since they didn’t, and Brett’s made it his mission to try to ‘bed me,’ then the scenario with the DLG’s—where he did nothing to stop them then or now—he can suck it.

  “We have places to be,” Dorran snaps out, garnering my attention. He hasn’t said more than a few words to me since that day in the hallway. Fuck, he hasn’t even peered in my direction, acting as if he’s better than me, while allowing those bitches to defile my things. Different from the way he acted on that first day next to the main building.

  I smile up at them innocently. “Oh, like Hell? Well, I already knew that.”

  Before they can get their wits about them, I jerk the door closed. The driver, a very smart man, pulls off before they c
an force themselves into the car. He, just like Kamila and myself, know students’ aren’t supposed to leave campus unless they sign out and have permission. In my situation, I was lucky enough for Laura to put that in my enrollment papers. Otherwise, I’d been just like Kingston, Ivy, and Mikaels right now. Places to go but no approval from the parental units.

  Sitting back, I shoot an award-winning smile toward Kamila. She tries to fight her own, but simply can’t when her grin soon matches mine.

  “You’re just making a big mess of things,” she huffs, sitting back.

  “How so?”

  She sighs but doesn’t answer. I can tell she’s thinking, probably trying to find a way to not hurt my feelings. But what she doesn’t know is it takes a lot to hurt my feelings. So, probably anything she says won’t hit its mark.

  I’ve lived with Xavier and Marie Nikohls my entire life. They didn’t raise me to be some soft-hearted girl that wears her heart on her sleeve for others to destroy. They gave me a backbone, teaching me it’s okay to love while still standing tall and strong.

  It’s not a life I ever thought I would grasp wholeheartedly, though. It wasn’t until my mother died that I lost a piece of myself. I started asking questions, wondering why.

  Why would you love to the fullest extent of your capabilities if you’ll lose everything in the end anyway?

  I know my situation reflects my actions, but that doesn’t mean everyone should take a page out of my book; it just means I live the way I live to keep from getting hurt. No one can hurt you if you expect nothing from them.

  What a sad way to live, but it gets me by.

  Kamila finally turns her attention back toward me. “If you want to make it at this school—and I think you do, because why else would you still be here?—then you need to get a few things straight.” I don’t like where this is going, but instead of voicing myself, I stay quiet. “Brett, Chaz, and Dorran can make your life a living—I mean, absolute—terror if you get on their bad side. Trust me, Ariyal, you don’t want that.”