Cruel Devil: A Small Town Brother's Best Friend, Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devils of Sun Valley High Book 3)

by Daniela Romero

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  He doesn't answer, but his muscles strain against his skin, the veins in his neck protruding.

  "I bet you'd like it even more if I begged for it. Got down on my knees and showed you just how bad I—"

  His fist tangles in my hair and he yanks my face toward his, tilting my head so his lips can capture my own. His kiss is savage and hungry as he claims my mouth with his tongue in long greedy stokes. I moan into his mouth, and that only seems to spur him on.

  His grip holds me in place, leaving me no choice but to accept his punishing kiss. The hand in my hair moves to the side of my neck in a possessive hold while the other continues to hold me up, kneading my ass. He pulls away from the door and carries me further into the room, his mouth never leaving mine until I feel a solid surface beneath me.

  Dominique sets me down on a long table, but he doesn't release me. "That what you want?" he asks, and it takes me a few seconds to remember what I said to him before that kiss. "You want me to fuck you while you beg for my cock?"

  God, yes. Not that I’ll ever admit it out loud. Instead, I lean back, pressing my palms on the table to hold myself up. His hand slips from my neck right as I say, "No thanks. I think I'm good."

  I allow a smirk to curl the corners of my mouth as I raise both brows, giving him a disinterested look.

  He glares at me in disbelief and then something in him shifts. Tension crackles like lightning between us, and I fight not to squirm under his intense stare.

  "You almost had me," he tsks with an amused laugh. "Almost. But if you think for one second I'm going to buy that mouthful of lies, guess again, baby girl." He steps into me, cupping my sex and driving the heel of his palm against me. "You're soaked pussy doesn't lie. I can feel how wet you are through your jeans.”

  My eyes pop wide and my heart beats frantically against my chest before I can pull myself together enough to bite out, "Screw you."

  "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He smirks, palm still pressed firmly against my center. My hips lift off the table of their own volition when he pushes down on my clit. I gasp, biting back a moan, and my cheeks burn with humiliation, but I can't find it in me to tell him to stop. It feels so good.

  “I don’t like liars,” he grunts, his eyes locked on his hand between my legs. Wait. What? He drags my hips to the edge of the table until my butt is about to slide off. Then he spreads my legs, creating enough room for him to step between them. He makes no effort to mask his desire as he slams his lips down on mine again and groans into my mouth right before he fists my hair and jerks my head back, tearing his lips from mine and leaving me to stare up at the ceiling. He scrapes his teeth along the column of my throat, nipping and sucking on my sensitive skin.

  I gasp, and a fresh wave of pleasure filters through me, igniting every cell in my body.

  He runs his nose up the side of my neck, inhaling me as he says, “So, I have to punish you." There's a note of regret in his voice, and the next thing I know, he's spun me around to face the opposite wall. My feet hit the floor, my body bent over the desk and my ass thrust out toward him. One hand presses down on the center of my spine, effectively pinning me in place as the other roams over my hip, trailing down to my ass.

  "What am I being punished for?" My heart rate picks up.

  "You lied to me."

  I shake my head in denial. "I didn't lie." My voice shakes, but whether from desire or fear, I'm not entirely sure.

  "There you go again," he tsks.

  His hand dips lower, boldly stroking the inside of my thighs as he uses his legs to force me into a wider stance. I grind my teeth together to hold back the moan that threatens to spill past my lips.

  "I'm going to give you a second chance to come clean, because despite what you think, I'm not a complete asshole."

  I start to laugh, but the sound dies in my throat when I feel the ridge of his cock dig into my ass, hard and demanding. What is he doing to me? We don't get along. We definitely don't like one another. But the level of need I feel right now is like nothing I've felt before, which is both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time because this is bad. So fucking bad.

  "Do you want me to fuck you, baby girl?" My mouth goes dry as he thrusts against me, pressing his cock against the crack of my ass as he minicks fucking me. "Do you want to beg for my cock as I thrust deep inside you?"

  My pussy clenches and his vulgar words almost undo me. I swallow hard and manage to deliver a shaky denial, "No."

  He stops moving and exhales a sigh full of resignation, as if my response somehow pains him. "I did warn you," he says, his voice tinged with regret.

  I swallow hard, wondering what he intends to do next. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s always been so restrained. We fight, sure, but with words. This isn’t anything like our usual battles. This is like going to war and I am wholly outmatched and unprepared for this kind of fight.

  One hand reaches around me and undoes the button on my jeans. "Last chance," he offers, but words die on my tongue. My thighs tighten in anticipation. Is he...are we going to...

  His fingers hook into my jeans, dragging them over my hips and exposing my rear. He leaves my underwear in place, but all I’m wearing is a hot pink thong that leaves my entire backside on display. "Fuck," he groans and cups my ass cheeks, spreading them with his fingers while also pushing me forward, father across the table until the tops of my thighs can't go any further.

  "Tell me to stop," he growls. "If you're not okay with this, whatever the fuck is about to happen right now, tell me now." He runs his fingers down the crack of my ass until he reaches my pussy and presses his fingers into me through the soaked fabric of my panties. My legs quake.

  I should do what he suggests, tell him to stop, but I'm drunk on desire, feeling like I'll explode if he stops touching me, so I keep my lips pressed together and shake my head. I'll regret this come morning.

  I won't be able to pretend this didn't happen. I won't be able to forget his hands on me or the sensation of him thrusting between my thighs. This is a mistake and I know it. I just don't fucking care.

  Dominique twists his hand in my hair and I instinctively know what comes next. It's no surprise when he yanks on it, forcing my back to arch and my chin to jut forward. He seems to like that, pulling my hair. And I can't say that I'm complaining about it.

  I don't have a lot of experience in this arena. I've fooled around before, sure. Given head. Had my pussy eaten out. But I haven't gone all the way with anyone. I'm not saving myself for marriage or anything like that, I just never cared about any of my past boyfriends enough to spread my legs for them.

  I've never been with a guy like this. One who my body responds to on a visceral level.

  Dom shifts to the side, no longer between my thighs, but he doesn't let go of my hair. He winds it around his fist, tightening his hold as his other hand hooks beneath the fabric of my panties and a lone finger slips between my wet slit.

  I moan when he finds my clit, brushing his finger over the sensitive nub.

  “Dominique …” I gasp, and his finger moves faster against me, my hips rearing back of their own accord. The pain in my scalp and the pleasure between my thighs has pure heat zipping down my spine. My toes curl and I’m panting heavy, my release so incredibly close.

  "Don't say I didn't warn you," he mutters under his breath right before he withdraws his finger from between my legs and his palm slaps my bare ass cheek. I yelp, jolting forward, but the table makes it impossible to go anywhere.

  Holy fuck. "Did you just spank me?"

  Instead of answering, he spanks my other cheek and I slap my palm against the table.

  "I warned you what would happen if you didn't tell the truth." He massages my burning flesh, lessening the sting a bit, only to slap me again. I cry out, but the sound is cut off when he releases my hair only to wrap his hand over my mouth.

  "Shhhh...." he whispers. "Keep making that sound and someone is bound to com
e and investigate what is going on in here."

  I try to shift away from him. When he said he was going to punish me for lying, I didn't expect this.

  He chuckles, like my attempt at escape amuses him. "I'm not done with you yet. I think you deserve at least two more.” A fourth smack is delivered and I scream, but his palm muffles the sound.

  "Your ass turns the prettiest shade of pink,” he tells me, and I whimper against his palm.

  He squeezes my ass, trailing his fingers over each cheek and between my cleft. He said two more, but he’s only delivered one, and the anticipation of what is still to come grips my chest.

  Dominique lets go of my mouth and shifts behind me, pressing his erection against me. “Want to try again?” he asks, rocking his hips against me. “Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll consider giving you what you want. Beg for my cock the way we both know you want to.”

  The smug sound of his voice has my eyes narrowing and I lift my head to look over my shoulder. I won’t beg for anything. Not from him or anyone else. My gaze collides with his and just as I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, his palm slaps my ass, harder than all of the times before.

  I open my mouth on a silent scream before sucking in a shaky breath as I sag against the table.

  Dominique steps back, moving around the table until he’s standing in front of me, able to meet my gaze. He casually leans forward, pushing the hair out of my face. I should stand up. At the very least pull my jeans back over my ass, but I can’t seem to find the energy to move.

  “You know, you’re not nearly as insufferable when you’re like this.”

  I raise one hand and flip him off.

  He laughs and then, unsurprisingly, walks out of the classroom without so much as a goodbye.

  Chapter Nine

  I left Kasey bare-assed in that classroom. Aaron’s little sister. Ass cheeks red, courtesy of yours truly, and on display for anyone who walked in to see. This is bad. Already, there is a voice in my head that whispers you traitor, he’s like a brother. He trusts you.

  There’s a lead weight in my gut. I shouldn’t have touched her. I sure as shit shouldn’t still be thinking about touching her.

  Thank God I didn’t go through with fucking her. Not that what I did do constitutes as much better. A heavy blanket of guilt encompasses me. This can’t happen again. Me. Her. I lied when I told Roman I wasn’t interested. What I meant was I can’t afford to be interested. Not in her. Not like that.

  I reach the locker room and make quick work of changing. I’m a few minutes late, but no one will care. I’m not practicing today, still on Coach’s mandatory rest period for my shoulder, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna bounce on my obligations. Or miss the chance to give Deacon a piece of my mind.

  Kasey might say it was an accident, but I’m not buying it.

  Seeing that bruise on her arm … I shake my head and take a deep breath. It damn near sent me over the edge. The thought of anyone hurting her, anyone who isn’t me—and yeah, I realize how fucked up that is—makes my blood boil.

  I want to fuck her. Punish her. Soothe her. I want her to ache because of me and I want to be the only one capable of taking that ache away.

  Smacking her ass and watching it redden has blood rushing straight to my cock. Seeing her lust-drenched eyes, feeling just how soaking wet her panties are, shit, it does something to me.

  The door leading to the field opens and Emilio walks in, shouting, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back. Chill the fuck out,” over his shoulder.

  “It’s about time you showed up. Everything good?” he asks, seeing me on the bench.

  I grunt. “Peachy.”

  He opens his locker, the one right next to mine, and gives me a curious look.

  “What’d you do?” he asks.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He grabs a roll of athletic tape and begins wrapping his wrists. “You look guilty as fuck, man. Where were you before you got here?”

  I keep my expression blank. “I think you’ve been watching too many telanovelas with Bibiana, E.”

  He chuckles. “You got me there, but bro, Señora Acero is savage. That opening scene is a la Game of Thrones two-thousand thirteen. A wedding. A massacre. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He finishes with his wrists and tosses the tape back in his locker. “I still can’t believe you stopped watching at the ten-minute mark.” He shakes his head. “Fifteen more minutes and it would have gotten to the good part.”

  “I couldn’t understand anything.”

  Emilio scoffs. “Turn on the fucking subtitles. It’s fine.”

  I stretch my back and put myself through a short series of stretches as we bullshit a little longer. I know what I’m planning to do once I walk out on the field, but what I don’t know is how to get Emilio and Roman off of it.

  “Hunt,” I shout, ensuring my voice carries across the field. His head jerks up and he looks around, searching for whoever called his name. As soon as he realizes it was me, he jogs his way over, pulling off his helmet once he’s close.

  “Yo. What’s up?” He tilts his head in greeting, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

  “Kasey Henderson.” I bite out her name.

  He smirks, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “She’s fucking fine, right?” He rocks back on his heels and gives me a knowing look. Like we’re friends or some shit and both in on the same secret.

  Until this moment, I had zero issue with Hunt. Thought he was an okay dude with potential, but now… I can’t stand the sight of him and I’m two seconds away from punching him in the face, making sure to leave a mark like he left on Kasey.

  But I decide to give him a chance and delay punching him right out of the gate by grabbing him by the jersey instead and shoving him against the chain-link fence that surrounds the field.

  He brings his arms up in a vain attempt to stop me, but despite the definition he picked up in high school, I have an easy sixty pounds of muscle on him. He’s still a kid, and he’s not getting away until I’m good and ready to let him go.

  “What the fuck, man.” His eyes are wide, and I make sure he gets a good look at the fury riding me. “Is she yours or something? Shit, man. She never mentioned having a boyfriend. So if you’ve got beef, take it up with her.” He stops fighting me, both arms raised in surrender. Idiot.

  “She’s seventeen,” I snarl, inches from his face.

  “What’s your point? We’re both freshmen. I’m only a year older, probably less than that.”

  I shake him before slamming him against the fence harder. I can feel the eyes of the team on me, but no one interferes. The only people dumb enough to try are Roman and Emilio, and I made sure both were occupied in the locker room before tracking Deacon down, and that shit took some maneuvering.

  “She’s a fucking minor,” I seethe.

  “Bro, lay off. It’s not illegal or anything. How do you even know her?”

  Shouting comes from the other side of the field. Fuck. I thought I’d have more time, but I guess I’ll have to make due with what I have.

  “Whatever you think is going on between you two, it ends now. When you see her in class you’re going to pretend like you don’t even see her.”

  His jaw tightens, and I know he wants to smart off, but he manages to keep his mouth shut. Only the flaring of his nostrils betrays his emotions. Maybe he isn’t that stupid after all.

  I drop my hold on him and turn, shouldering past the guys on the team stupid enough to have inched their way closer. Fucking gossips.

  “Dom—” Roman calls out, but I shake my head. I’m good. Shit is over. Or at least it should be, but then Deacon goes and opens his fucking mouth.

  “I’m not passing on her,” he shouts. “If you had your shot and missed it, that’s on you. But I’m not gonna look past a fine as fuck piece of ass for your benefit. Not until I’ve sampled her, at least. When I�
��m done, I might consider sharing if you still want a taste.” He laughs like he’s some arrogant frat kid.

  My head turns almost as if in slow motion. Everything around me falls away, and all I see is the dipshit in front of me, the three meters between us, and the time it will take me to reach him so I can lay his punk ass out.

  “Am I right, boys?” Deacon smirks as he looks around him, meeting the eyes of our teammates. No one responds to him and I watch in satisfaction as his smile slips, and then, I’m on him. I have my left hand on his throat, the right clenched into a tight fist and I draw my arm back.

  Right as I move to swing, a hand wraps around my fist, barely managing to stop my momentum. I jerk my gaze to my right only to find Roman holding onto me. Emilio not two steps behind him.

  “Your hands,” he bites out.

  With my left hand still holding Deacon in place, I shake my best friend off. “Fuck my hands.” Whatever damage they might sustain will be worth it, only Roman doesn’t seem to agree.

  “You have a fucked-up shoulder and now you wanna fuck your future just to punch this asshole in the face? Come on, Dom, be smart.”

  With my eyes locked on his, I ignore Deacon’s failed attempts at escape. His hands swing out in a bid to hit me first, save face in front of the team, but my reach is longer than his and all he manages to hit is air. He realizes that he’ll never reach me and starts pounding his fist into my left arm.

  I grunt, but don’t let go.

  “Don’t be stupid. You’re better than this. Don’t throw away the season just to punch some punk ass kid.”

  “Fuck you,” Deacon weezes, not liking Roman’s names for him. Personally, I like punk ass more than asshole. It fits him.

  My arm is numb. He tagged me on my funny bone and the nerve is spasming, but I’m not about to let up.