by K. B. Nelson
Bad Situation
Bad Reputation #2
K.B Nelson
kbnelsonbooks.com
Contents
Newsletter
Prologue
1. Brick
2. Brick
3. Apple
4. Brick
5. Apple
6. Brick
7. Apple
8. Brick
9. Brick
10. Apple
11. Brick
12. Apple
13. Brick
14. Apple
15. Brick
16. Brick
17. Brick
18. Apple
19. Brick
20. Apple
21. Apple
22. Apple
23. Brick
24. Apple
25. Brick
26. Apple
27. Brick
28. Apple
29. Brick
30. Apple
31. Brick
32. Apple
33. Brick’
Epilogue
Also by K.B Nelson
Contact
Copyright
Newsletter
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Prologue
LAST YEAR
The bass thumps. The liquor in my red solo cup quakes, an image straight out of that iconic scene in Jurassic Park. I’m bored, and tired of waiting. I’m ready to strike, but patience is a virtue all winners must posses. My heart is dark. I know that. Sometimes, the obtuse weight of these games wear on me, but when they’re over and I’m left standing as the victor, I’m reminded why I’m pulled into the furthest reaches of depravity.
It’s all about the power.
Once you get a taste of it—once the innocence drips down the curve of your lip—you become addicted to the insatiable desire of power. I have it. They don’t. More specifically, she doesn’t and when she awakes tomorrow, she’ll never fail to be reminded of it.
I will share with the world my glorious work.
* * *
APPLE
Sometimes, the work is hard. Sometimes, the strings pull on my heart and I’m not sure if I’m capable of following through. Then, I’m reminded why I do what I have to do. I’m reminded I was a victim once. Like a toy, I was used and thrown in the trash once I grew stale.
I will never be a victim again.
I sling Eve around my shoulder, getting as good of a grip as I can and carry her from the dark bedroom and into the messy aftermath of an out-of-control party. Her body is like liquid, too consumed with alcohol to walk on her own, and barely awake.
She’s had a rough day. First, she is told by a confidant that her lover—a professor by the name of Jensen Moon—has been unfaithful to her. Then, she receives an email from the school with the message that she’s been placed on academic probation.
I am the confidant, and I am the one who penned the email. She’s nothing more than a pawn, and her weight slung around my shoulder is a reminder of that.
* * *
BRICK
I tap my foot impatiently as my eyes scan the quiet street. The students have long gone to bed, and soon they will rise again to the breaking news of a scandal. No one will ever know that it was I who set the entire fiasco up, but the pleasure I’ll gain, even in my total anonymity, will ignite a temporary fire that satisfies that of which is insatiable.
There’s a quiet thump against the door behind me, so I turn and open it. “It’s about time,” I say to Apple. Sometimes, she’s my partner in crime and sometimes, she’s my opponent in the most challenging—and rewarding—of games.
“I’m terribly sorry you’ve had to stand in place and drink a beer.” She grunts and readjusts Eve on her shoulder. “She was too busy puking to fall asleep, and I wasn’t going to carry her out of there while she was projectile vomiting Jager.”
“You’re such a wimp.”
“And you’re a prick.” She peeks toward the empty street. “Where’s the car?”
* * *
APPLE
Once we’ve arrived at our destination, I jump out of the car and pull the rear door open. Eve is asleep across the cool leather backseat of Brick’s BMW. The heat of the rising sun behind me burns against my back.
“We’re running late,” I say as Brick approaches me from the rear. “If we get caught, it won’t be Professor Harris that’s banned from campus.”
Brick chuckles. “Trust me, if we get caught, getting banned from campus will be the least of your worries.”
“Keep laughing, buddy.” I pull Eve’s body from the back seat and sling her back around my shoulder. If a girl wants something done, she’ll have to do it herself. “You’re too pretty for prison,” I say with a wide, beaming grin. He’s always wanted to try anal.
Brick, never known for modesty, smiles and agrees. “I know.”
“So do all the lonely prisoners.”
He shakes my comment off and moves to change the subject while throwing Eve’s other arm over his shoulder. This is his idea of chivalry. “You know there’s no going back once we walk in that door.”
“Like you fucking care.”
“You know me too well.”
“It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”
“And her?” He stops walking and looks over to me, with judging eyes—the hypocrisy burning bright. “Does she deserve this?”
* * *
BRICK
I’ve positioned Eve into my arms so that I carry her limp body with ease. Apple gets to work ahead of me, messing up the silky silver sheets on the bed in front of me. When she nods, I move forward and lay Eve down on the bed. She stirs in her sleep and turns over onto her side.
From the attached master bedroom, I hear the shower running down the body of Mr. Harris. I imagine he walked into his shower this morning to cleanse himself for the day ahead. When he walks out, it’ll be all for naught.
Apple pulls Eve’s jeans down her legs and balls the denim into a loose wad. I shift my attention to the long dresser that adorns the wall parallel to the bed, and flip open a white laptop.
“Do you have the flash drive?” I whisper to Apple.
“Yeah,” she replies and I turn to her. She throws the drive into my hand. “But it has puke on it, so good luck.”
I’m grossed out, but I don’t have time to panic. I stick the drive into the side of the computer and wait. I’m told that’s all I’ll need to do. Technology will do the rest. That’s one of the perks of befriending the nerdiest genius on campus.
“Yuck,” I say, breathing out of my mouth and wiping my hands on my jeans. “This girl really can’t hold her liquor.”
“Too bad.” Apple shrugs her shoulders and peels the bedroom door open. She tosses Eve’s jeans down onto the stairwell right outside the door. “So sad.”
From downstairs, I hear the front door open and my heart skips a beat—half in fear, and half in anticipation. “We have to go.”
I rip the flash drive from the computer, unlock the window beside the dresser, and pull it open. “You first.”
* * *
APPLE
I slide down the roof until my feet hit the edge of the drainage pipes. I peer over the ledge to make sure Brick’s there to catch my fall. He’s my knight in shining armor, but he’s also the biggest pain in my ass. In some fucked up dichotomy, he completes me.
He catches me when I jump and lowers me to the ground like the perfect gentleman he never was, and never will be. It’s the same lie everyone believes when they first meet him, but one they soon discover is untrue. He’s the opposite. He’s a demon in disguise.
We quickly escape to an alley, where we slow down and catch out breat
h.
“He’ll lose his job,” Brick says between ragged breaths.
“He deserves it.”
“Even if he didn’t do anything?”
“You’re forgetting. He did do something.” He sleeps around with students behind his wife’s back, so he’s hardly an upstanding member of the community. “He just didn’t do this something.”
And as for her, she deserves everything that’s coming her way. I thought I had found happiness, but she came in like a blind side and stole my fucking boyfriend. And that kids, is why you don’t date a quarterback and you sure as fuck don’t ever let another girl close enough to call her a friend.
Men are terrible, but they’re often up front about it.
Women are something else entirely.
* * *
BRICK
When I awake in the mid-afternoon, everyone on campus already knows. Mr. Harris was finally caught sleeping with one of his students, by his faithful wife of twenty years none-the-less. When Eve denies her involvement with the professor, his hard drive will be searched.
Eve and Harris were involved in a torrid affair. The emails I downloaded onto his computer will prove it. Both of their reputations will be shattered, and Eve will be forced away from campus for a crime of passion she hadn’t committed.
Neither of these people ever did me wrong, but there’s an intense stirring of satisfaction within. Eve thought she was indestructible—with her perfect GPA, and her knack for luring any man into her lust-filled trap. She went as far as to sleep with Apple’s boyfriend—that’s the story I’ve told anyway, all for Apple’s benefit.
But she didn’t have the wisdom to know that nobody fucks with my queen.
1
Brick
PRESENT
The girl I love is gone.
My brother hates me.
I’ve managed to fail all my classes for the semester, and now I won’t be graduating on time, but all I can think about are her silky legs.
Smooth.
Porcelain.
Crossed over at the knees, I’m lost in the sight of her beauty.
I want to stand up from this chair, and walk to her like I would walk to any other woman. I want to stand above her, and breathe against her neck as I sink to my knees. I want to uncross her legs, and lap my tongue around her pussy. I want to make her scream. I want to make her need me. I want to drive her to the edge, and then leave her wanting more.
But no. I have to sit here and talk about my fucking feelings.
What feelings? I promise, I have them. Everyone has them. No matter how hard I try to escape them, they’re always there clawing at my back, digging their nails into my flesh. They’re always there, screaming. They never fucking shut up.
A black skirt dances along her knees, flapping against her skin from the cool breeze of a ceiling fan.
I curl my palm into the fabric of the black leather chair, trying to hold back from acting on impulse. I’m weak, and that’s all I’ve ever been. I’m an addict, and that’s all I’ll ever be. I love to fuck and I love to think about being fucked. She’s on top of me. She’s under me. I’m pounding into her with reckless abandon. She’s riding me with her hands tied above her head. It always feels good…
Sex.
Sex.
Sex.
All the time, it’s always fucking sex.
It’s the one thing I’m good at, so why not fucking own it, you know? Women line up in droves to get a taste, to get a look, to be swept onto the magical carpet ride for just one night at a time.
And then I leave them hanging, because I’m incapable of leveraging feelings into something more. Instead, I use that same leverage to leave those same women hanging on, and then I destroy them. My tornado path of destruction isn’t limited to the women I cross paths with, many men have fallen under my reign of terror. I don’t use them the same way I use women—for obvious reasons—but they’re useful when I need them to be.
I have no regrets about the things I have done. No remorse, except for one…
Her.
Apple fucking Malloy. The one that got away, and she got away fast. The one who was in too much of a hurry to pack her shit, before she jetted off across the country with the man she was supposed to destroy.
She fell in love, and now, I’m left here on my own.
And this woman in front of me pretends like she cares. She doesn’t. She checks the chic golden watch on her fragile wrist. She’s just waiting for this billable hour to be over. I fucking hate head doctors—the kind that gets in your head, not the kind that can go down on you for hours. They both have strong jaws, one from talking too much and the other from sucking too much dick.
I’d die for a fucking blowjob right now.
“We’re not getting anywhere,” she says with a frustrated sigh, and I could fix her bad attitude if she’d let me.
“Tell me doctor,” I say and bite into my lip. My eyes shift from her legs to her rigid face. “What do you want to know?”
Her lips purse, and her eyes shift. She stares out the floor-to-ceiling windows that are lined with thin white blinds, like she’s distracted by something else. “I want to know what’s on your mind.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Trust me when I say you’re wrong.”
“You presume a lot,” she says and turns back to me. “You assume too much, and you’re often wrong. You’re wrong right now.” She leans her body forward in an effort to bridge the tense gap between us.
“What’s on my mind?” I play into her, playing along with a game she doesn’t even know she’s playing. To me, everything’s a game where there are always winners, and there are always losers. “I’m thinking about how you taste.”
A nervous lump travels down the length of her throat and she peels her eyes away from me. “You’re a disturbed young man.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
“Then let me help you.”
I laugh and throw myself back in my seat, knocking my head against the tip of the chair. “Are you going to fix me, doctor?”
“Only if you’re willing to expose yourself to me.” Terrible choice of words, Doc.
“Only if you’re willing to engage in meaningful conversation. Only if you’re capable of admitting there’s some part of you that needs fixed.”
Her words strike a chord with me, and I’m left reeling. She has provided me with an opening, an opportunity to steal the upper hand. “You want to see me for everything I am?”
She nods and takes a deep breath; relieved she’s finally getting somewhere.
But she’s not.
She’ll never win.
I trace my palms along the buttons of my short-sleeved button up. It’s blue—my favorite color—and I look great in it. It highlights my summer tan, and darkens my emerald eyes into a dangerous, and darker shade of treacherous captivity. I paw at the top button with my fingers and stand to my feet. “I’m a scared little child trapped in a man’s body.”
She nods, unsure of where I’m going next.
I pop the button and lower my fingers to the next. “I’m a monster without feelings.” Another button pops. “All I think about is sex, because it’s what fuels this insatiable need within me.” Another button, and she’s become visibly uncomfortable.
She shakes her head. “What are you doing?” she snaps.
My lips curl into a devious smile. “Come on, Doc. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” She’s too thrown off to respond. I’ve got her right where I want her. “You want to get inside my head? This is how you do it.”
I pop the last button and slide the shirt down the length of my arms. It drops to the floor and I’m left standing bare-chested in front of my parents’ psychologist. My cock jumps in my jeans at the thought of fucking the woman who my parents are paying to fix me. She might not fix me, but I’ll sure as fuck get my fix. In this regard, my parents’ will become nothing more than enablers to my own curious addictions.<
br />
I lower my palm to my jeans and adjust my growing hardness. A smile curls across my lips when I see her eyes shift downward, if only for a second. “You like what you see, Doc?”
She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to.
I move closer to her, but she jumps to her feet before I have the opportunity to pull her close. She retreats slowly away from me, unsure of how to proceed, but I stalk her until she backs right up to her desk.
And I pin her there. My body pressed against hers. I’m the one half-naked, but it’s she who’s vulnerable. I sway my hips, taunting and teasing her as I force her to stare into my eyes. And I move my body closer until I feel my jean-clad erection pressing against her thigh.
She jumps slightly, and her breath is wild and uneven. She reaches forward and places her palm on my chest. She’s not pushing away, though. Her touch is soft and gentle. I can see the gears in her mind turning, like she wants me to knock all the fucking meaningless bullshit off her desk and fuck her until she comes.
“You think you know what comes next,” I say. “You will never know what comes next. You’ll never see me coming, because I don’t operate on the same interval as the rest of the world. It’s my world, and you’re only living in it.”
“Why did you even come here?” she asks in a husky, deep, and crackling tone that would make Bette Davis jealous. “Is this what you came for?”
I shrug. “My parents saw my grades drop off a fucking cliff.” I lean in closer until my mouth is leveled against her ear and I stroke the swell of her back, grabbing a handful of linen fabric. “They were worried about me.”
“Should they be?” she pants, and lowers her palm to brush my bare side.
“They’re worried about their investment in me. They want to make sure I’m not a lost cause before they pump…” I thrust my body against hers, “another semester’s worth of funds into my bank account.”
