by Mj Fields
“And when should I expect the atrocious, vindictive, self-proclaimed king to spread the news that my car was going to be repossessed until he swooped in and saved the day?”
My balls begin to burn at the thought of her owing me.
“I can keep my mouth shut, Queenie, but something Quinn said just a few hours ago—”
“You were with her?” she asks in a disgusted tone.
“Most of the day.” I smile smugly, feeding off her disgust.
“So, what she did doesn’t sicken you?”
“Tell me, Queenie, if you trust the people who whisper supposed facts in your ear about others, take their word as gospel, then why not ask them to have your back when you truly need it?”
She looks at me, eyes filled with anger. “What will it cost me for you to keep your mouth shut?”
“We’ll start with my fucking clothes and phone, and then I’m sure I can come up with something singularly beneficial.”
“Why Tobias would choose you is beyond me.” She turns and stomps toward the stairs.
“Not hard to believe when you and yours clearly give a fuck less about anything but being worshipped by the top zero point one percent.”
“You don’t know me,” she snaps.
“That’s right, Queen B; never did, certainly don’t want to anymore, but now it seems I’m stuck with you,” I sneer as I follow her up the stairs.
“Lucky me!” she yells as she stomps down the hall to her room.
“And you, little liar, are stuck with me.”
She looks back at me. I like the fear that I see in her eyes.
“By the time I’m done with you, you may even like yourself, but I can promise you, I never will.”
She turns, shakes her head, and whispers, “And maybe when that happens, this will all be worth it.” She opens her door, walks inside her room, and then turns and looks at me. “Rule number one: of this game you started, you’re not allowed in my bedroom ever again.” Then she slams the door.
Takes me a second to get over the fact I’m starting to feel sorry for it to realize she thinks she can make rules.
I open her door and step in. “You don’t make rules. This is my way. So, rule number one,” I say, looking around and not seeing her. I walk in farther and see her coming out from under her bed.
She scowls, stands, and thrusts my phone at me. My phone that is fifty percent fucking charged with no trace of water damage.
“You jacked my phone?” I ask.
“It must have fallen out of your pocket when you were—”
I grab her face. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
She slaps my hand away. “Believe what you want to believe; I don’t really give a fuck!”
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
“You watch yours!”
I’m about ready to lose my shit when she steps toward me and pokes me in the chest. “Rule number two: you stay away from Quinn.”
I grab her finger. “You’ve lost your fucking—”
“Rule number three: you can treat me like shit behind any door except this one that you are not allowed in but, respect me in front of others.”
“You really think—”
She walks behind me and pushes me toward the door. “Rule number four: you can jerk off. I will not be cheated on.”
I plant myself. “You can suck my dick and go to hell!”
She walks around and in front of me, grabs my waistband, and drags me behind her out the door. Then she lets go of me, walks back, and shuts her door. “Rule number five: if that happens, you’ll be stuck with me forever.”
“Newsflash, Queenie: you have, and your blow jobs”—I pause— “and this is putting it nicely—were tolerable.”
“I was talking about going to hell, you oversexed baboon!” she snaps as she walks toward the stairs. “Rule number six: stop sniffing me; it’s disturbing.”
“You don’t listen very fucking well, do you? I’m the king!”
“Rule number seven: the next time you use the term, I’m the king, you have to do it in an Elvis voice; otherwise, you sound like a punk-ass Jersey boy.”
“Queenie, I’m warning you right now”—I follow her down the stairs—“I will hand this shit over to Reeves and be the first to wish you two well when you say your I do’s for the first of what I have no doubt will be many marriages.”
“Rule number eight: he and I are on speaking terms and will be, so deal with it.”
“Not fucking happening.”
She turns and looks at me. “Then neither are you and the sloppy bj bitch.”
I laugh in annoyance. “You’re not getting it. You’re fucking mine to deal with in whatever way I want. You’re mine to debase, if I so choose. You’re mine until graduation, and you will do what you’re told.”
“Fuck off,” she says, throwing her little pink dress over her head and revealing a white lace thong and the fact that she’s braless, as she opens and walks out the French doors then dives into the pool.
I don’t dare walk out of the fucking house, afraid that my self-control will rocket into the great abyss. And as she pushes herself up out of the pool, soaking wet, tits on full display, for the second time in the past couple months, I have to force myself to look away.
She walks past me. “What’s wrong, Justice? You see something you like?”
“I see a little girl trying to use her body to get attention and control a situation. What I see wouldn’t so much as make my dick plump.” I walk over, grab her dress, storm toward her, and shove it over her head.
When I look down, she’s looking up, black lashes glistening with tiny drops of water that haven’t fallen yet, full as fuck bottom lip pouting out.
“What?” I snap.
“I have needs.”
“First week fucked-iversary gift will be hard plastic then.” I grab my clothes from her and walk away, telling her, “So you can go fuck yourself.”
I wake to a text.
- Rule number nine: you pick me up for school.
“Gabrielle,” I growl as I sit up.
I hit her back real quick with,
-Not gonna happen.
I get one back immediately.
- No boyfriend of mine has ever made me drive.
I tap out,
-Tough shit.
I walk up the stairs and see Truth and Mom at the counter. I walk over and give Mom a kiss. “Good morning.”
She smiles. “You two really heading to the hospital this early?”
“Did you see those babies, Mom?” Truth grins. “I’m half-tempted to quit school and become their full-time nanny.”
I grab my lunch and Truth’s out of the fridge. “We gonna grab them breakfast on the way in?”
Truth nods as she slides off her stool, walks over, and gives Mom a kiss, asking, “Lunches for them already planned out?”
“Of course they are.” She winks.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask, looking around.
Mom answers, “He went into the office. Jase is gonna be out for a while.”
“Cool,” I say, tossing Truth her water bottle and grabbing mine.
“And just to prepare yourselves, Italy might have to be pushed back until the end of the summer.”
I see Truth’s disappointment. Tobias was planning to go with us, but if we wait until the end of the summer, he’ll already be attending Columbia.
“As long as everything else is okay, Dad and I thought maybe the five of us would take a couple weeks to travel across country. Neither of us have ever done that.”
Truth smiles. “Cool.”
Walking into school, all eyes turn to me. Truth doesn’t notice it, though, too busy swiping through pictures of the boys.
“They are so freaking adorable.” She grins as she holds up the phone.
“Yeah, T, just like they were when we left them fifteen minutes ago.”
She elbows me and laughs. “Can we go after school?”
“Patrick’s tak
ing Brisa, Tris, and My, remember?”
When she almost runs into Tobias, she looks up. “Oh, hey. Look.” She shoves the phone in his face.
“Wasn’t too long ago she was kissing on you as soon as she walked in the door. Look what happens when babies enter the picture.” I fix my backpack and wink. “That’s the shit they should be teaching in health class.”
As soon as I round the corner to hit the locker room to put my gym clothes for the week in my locker, I see Gabrielle standing with her girls.
She looks around, deer-in-the-headlights, and all I can think is, Shoot first.
I walk right up to her, invading every bit of personal space there is until her tits hit my abs, and I keep walking, forcing her to walk backward. “Rule number one, Queenie: you should be at the front door when I walk in.”
Amongst giggles and whispers, annoying “OMGs” and pouty “No fairs,” I hear her back hit the wall of lockers. I bend down, knowing damn well it looks like I’m about to kiss her. I inhale deeply, starting at the base of her neck and up the side of her cheek, my nose touching her skin, ruffling her hair as I move. “What’s wrong, Queenie? This not a good enough show for you?” I lean down, press my forehead to hers, and look in her eyes. “I make the rules; you thank me in whatever way I deem necessary for letting you so much as be on the team. You fuck up, you’re out.”
“I hate you,” comes out in a whispered, quivering breath.
“I hate you more,” I say as I grip her hip tightly and pull her against me. “Have a shitty day, Queenie.”
“Mr. Steel.” I hear from a booming voice coming from behind me. “My office now.”
Sitting in the principal’s office, waiting for Whitaker to scold me for PDA, I look around and see his family photos. I remember Tobias gained control here because of information he was handed by Roland, Whitaker’s son. The pictures on his desk show him and his daughter, who one of my cousins already banged. The pictures of him and his son are much older.
When he walks in, he slams the door. I am guessing he expects me to be intimidated. Clearly, it doesn’t work. Elbows resting on the arms of the chair, legs straight out, ankles crossed, I don’t even look back as he walks in.
When he sits at his desk and starts to open his mouth, I do it first.
“If this is about getting a bit too close to Miss Morales-Ortez in the hallway, I’ll try to keep the PDA at a minimum.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back. “That would be a good idea, but that’s not why you’re in here, Mr. Steel. You’re in here because you’re on the baseball team, and we hold our athletes at a higher standard than other students who do not participate in school-sponsored programs. Apparently, this weekend, you were seen drunk and belligerent at a party. And not only were you drunk and belligerent, you decided it appropriate to walk nude through said party then threaten other students if they were to show any interest in Miss Morales-Ortez.”
“Not sure where it is you get your information, but I am sure what I do when I’m not on school property is not any of your business. And if I decided not to wear clothes outside of this school, where you don’t make or enforce rules, that’s none of your damn business, either.”
“Your tone, Mr. Steel.”
“You have two kids; how about you parent them?”
His face turns red as I stand up.
“Is that all?”
“You have been warned.”
“And you have been, as well.”
“Are you threatening me?” he snaps.
I shake my head. “You take it however you want to, but I can assure you, my family would have a team of lawyers in here if I so much as told them I was being harassed. And you should know that would be a last resort. You need anything else from me?”
The bell rings.
“If I do, I’ll call you into my office without hesitation.”
I nod. “Understood. But you decide to do so before I’ve hit the vending machine for a morning cup of coffee, the polite thing to do would be bring me a cup.” I wink at the dick. “Good chat.” And then I bounce.
Walking from fifth period to the locker room, I notice I’m being looked over by not just the girls, but the guys, too. Obviously, the look gives a different vibe, but those who never noticed or pretend not to notice, and those who look away when I enter the hall are taking liberties to either check out the self-proclaimed king, or the drunk from the video the other night.
Fuck, the video. I look around for one of my crew to have them look and see if it’s still buzzing around, and my eyes stop on an ass I’m all too familiar with, and not proud of the fact I am, but it is what it is. Regardless of the fact she’s a little lying bitch, that ass is like an onion—it brings tears to the eyes.
When I look up, I realize she’s surrounded by Reeves and his crew.
Fuck that.
I walk behind her, and they notice but don’t say a thing, allowing her to continue talking in a hissed-whisper.
“You tried to make me look like a joke when you felt threatened because you saw how Tobias looked at Truth by going after Kiki. When you realized she wasn’t going to cave to your charms, you went after Truth, and failed. In doing so, you had no regard for me. You thought you were better than me.” She laughs maliciously while shaking her head. “Look who’s pathetic now. I have him, and he’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand. My secrets will be safe, but I’ll make damn sure”—she steps chest-to-chest with Reeves—“that I suck whatever brain cells he has out through his big, old pierced dick so that, the next time you short me, he’s so pussy-whipped I won’t even have to ask him to spill your dirt. He’ll do it because he’ll be my bitch.” She then steps back and hits my chest. She tenses, and I know damn well she knows it’s me.
Reeves and the others are smirking at her, and then they look up at me.
Hatt shakes his head. “Making the wrong friends, JT.”
“I don’t have friends; I have a family, crew. She gets the rest of her cut by day’s end, or you’ll have me to answer to. Now leave us.”
As they all walk away from me, she looks back at me, eyes cautiously hopeful. They shouldn’t be.
“Go sign out for lunch.”
“I have to go to—”
“Do it,” I snarl. “Then walk your ass to the parking lot. I’ll be waiting.”
“Justice, I—”
“Now,” I growl then turn and walk away.
Before she climbs in the ride, I’ve sent a message to Tobias, telling him, sober, that I’m in, and I want all the information he has. He replied, okay. I’ve already gotten access to the app and made damn sure the video was gone.
As she opens her own fucking door, I hold up the phone, showing her the picture of us from this morning. “I made this shit look real, and you just pissed all the fuck over that.”
Sliding in, she shakes her head. “I was pissed. I—”
I stomp on the gas before her door is even shut. “Shut up, little liar! Shut the fuck up and listen, or I will make damn sure every one of them knows what a lying little bitch you are.”
Hard, Cruel … Steel
Gabrielle
Over the past two years, I’ve amassed a list of people I hate. Until this past November, Justice Theodore Steel, the boy with the dark brown hair, bright, brilliant smile, strong, large hands that swallowed mine up, but his touch soft, kind, and deeply desired, was never on it. I hate that his brilliant hazel eyes once smiled at me, even when he wasn’t smiling. I hate that the thought of his godlike, smooth, bronze skin made my fingers itch to touch him. I hate that his body, once covered with lean, defined muscles, has changed into something that evokes fear, yet still makes my insides catch fire. I hate that, even with all the ways he’s demeaned me, he never so much as made the bottom spot of my hate list … until Friday night when I found him in my bedroom, getting his dick sucked by one of the people on that list. He’s now in the top five and quickly rising to the number one spot.
I h
ate him.
Sitting in his vehicle that suits the man he’s become—hard, cold, angry … distant—my heart beats like a flock of angry birds, instead of the soft flutters his nearness and calm used to bring inside my chest.
I hate that I’m more attracted to him than ever before, even covered in tattoos. I hate that he doesn’t have to worry about what others think of him, affording him the luxury of being whoever he wants to be. I hate that, Friday night, when he claimed me as his in front of a house full of people, I felt comfort for the first time in years, and he did it to spite me. I hate that, every time he’s around me, he inhales my scent, but instead of telling me I smell like the sun, he says he smells my want for him with disdain in his voice. I hate that I hate him yet still want him to touch me, even if it is just to push me away or in an attempt to secretly humiliate me. And I hate that I crave it from him and him alone.
When he takes a hard right onto a sand covered road, I fly into him.
“Put your fucking seat belt on!”
The invisible cage holding everything inside of me finally loosens, and I scream, “Fuck you!”
His huge, inked hand lunges in front of me as we hit a bump and are midair before the vehicle touches ground and bounces. Still holding me back, he cranks the wheel and stomps on the brakes, causing us to do a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn on the secluded beach.
After throwing the vehicle in park, killing the engine, and grabbing the keys, he jumps out and storms around the vehicle. Knowing he’s hell-bent on either strapping me in or, who knows, maybe tossing me out, I quickly open the door and jump out.
“Rule number two: you move when I tell you to!” he yells, his words echoing through the air. “You wanted this bullshit; you came as an addendum to a verbal contract I took on to keep shit straight for my crew and people like Quinn, who your little elitist snobs—”
