RICH PRICK

by Tijan

  RICH PRICK

  Tijan

  Copyright © 2020 by Tijan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by: Jessica Royer Ocken

  Beta readers: Crystal Solis, Amy English, Rochelle Paige, Eileen Robinson

  Proofreaders: Paige Smith, Kim Holm, Chris O’Neil Parece, Amy English

  Moral supporters: Debra Anastasia, Helena Hunting

  For the readers!

  Contents

  A Note To The Reader

  1. Aspen

  2. Blaise

  3. Aspen

  4. Blaise

  5. Aspen

  6. Aspen

  7. Blaise

  8. Aspen

  9. Blaise

  10. Aspen

  11. Blaise

  12. Aspen

  13. Blaise

  14. Blaise

  15. Aspen

  16. Blaise

  17. Aspen

  18. Aspen

  19. Blaise

  20. Aspen

  21. Blaise

  22. Aspen

  23. Blaise

  24. Blaise

  25. Aspen

  26. Blaise

  27. Aspen

  28. Blaise

  29. Aspen

  30. Blaise

  31. Aspen

  32. Blaise

  33. Aspen

  34. Blaise

  35. Aspen

  36. Blaise

  37. Aspen

  38. Blaise

  39. Aspen

  40. Aspen

  41. Blaise

  42. Aspen

  43. Blaise

  44. Aspen

  45. Blaise

  46. Aspen

  47. Blaise

  48. Aspen

  49. Aspen

  50. Blaise

  51. Aspen

  Epilogue

  Second Epilogue

  Letter to the Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Tijan

  A Note To The Reader

  Rich Prick is written as a standalone, but both Blaise and Aspen are first introduced in Crew Princess. Aspen has a very short cameo while Blaise is introduced as Cross’ brother. If you’ve not read the Crew Series, you do not have to fear!

  Blaise and Aspen’s story is a standalone!

  That said, of course I’d love if you went back to read the Crew Series.

  Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!!

  1

  Aspen

  Everyone knew who Blaise DeVroe was.

  It didn’t matter that he’d come to Fallen Crest Academy late in the year—and FCA was not a school you showed up late to.

  I knew this because I showed up shortly after this year—my senior year—began, and no one, I repeat no one, knew who I was. Since my parents decided to have a mid-life crisis and tried to make up for some of their wrongs and bring me back to Fallen Crest, my last year of high school had sucked. FCA was filled with rich, stuck-up people. That meant you had to speak their language to be in their groups, and I didn’t. Not because I didn’t have money. My parents were movie producers and directors. We had money, and I previously went to one of the most exclusive private schools in North America, and a stint in a boarding school in Europe.

  I could be fluent in stuck-up-ese if I wanted to.

  But I chose not to. I’ve never been that girl.

  I was the library girl.

  I was the book nerd girl.

  I was the wallflower.

  On the whole, I tended to avoid people. I didn’t people well. I had an affinity for blending into the background. It’s a skill. I’d been perfecting it all my life.

  But anyway, Blaise DeVroe was the opposite of that.

  He may have moved to this school late in the year, but he walked in as if he already owned it. And to his credit, he kinda did.

  The guy who ran the school before Blaise showed up was Zeke Allen. He’s this wealthy jackass who’s a bully, a muscular douchebag, and who slept with girls and then talked shit about them. He was king of the school by default, I guess—not because he was anything fantastic.

  Then Blaise DeVroe walked in.

  Guess who gave him a welcome-home hug? Zeke Allen did!

  I was there, just coming out of the counselor’s office, so I saw it all.

  Blaise DeVroe strutted in with that cocky walk all the athletes had, and he was gorgeous. Like, seriously gorgeous. He had the high, arching cheekbones only the prettiest of the pretty-boy models had.

  I knew this too because I’d done some reluctant gigs in the business.

  But back to freaking stunning Blaise DeVroe. He had a chiseled, square jaw. He could have had his own waterfall off that jawline. Dark eyes. His hair was short, but long enough so he could rake his hands through it and let it be all adorably messy. And his body. Don’t even get me started on his body—I was all crushing on it because it was sick and I mean that in the hot kind of sick way, not the real sick way. He was definitely not the real sick way at all.

  He wasn’t as big as Zeke, but he had these big, broad shoulders. Trim waist. And there were muscles everywhere. I swear I saw shape definition in his neck.

  Blaise DeVroe: the hottest guy at Fallen Crest Academy.

  One of the richest guys too.

  I didn’t hear the story of why he came here—not the real reason. Rumors circulated that his mom was going through a divorce, but there were also whispers about secret siblings. I wasn’t on the up-and-up with anyone, so I never heard for sure if any of that was true. All I knew was Blaise DeVroe had walked into the hallowed and pretentious hallways of the private school in our town, and he was hailed like a long-lost son or something.

  Or something, as it turned out.

  Blaise and Zeke knew each other from childhood. Zeke considered him his long-lost best friend. So it was a coming home sort of situation.

  Not that I could talk much about the history of FCA, because I was new myself, but I had been here almost a whole semester before Blaise. And full disclosure, I’d been here when I was much younger at the private elementary/middle school. That was before Mom and Pops decided they didn’t like the influence my older brother’s best friend was having on him, so they pulled both my brothers and me out of here.

  But that’s a whole different story.

  The story for right now is that I’m being a total weirdo stalker and perving on Blaise DeVroe getting his dick sucked.

  Like, right in front of me.

  In hindsight, this was probably not the best idea I’d ever had. And I’ve had some doozy ideas. But this one takes the cake. I just couldn’t help myself. As I’ve mentioned, I usually keep to myself, but something got into me this year. Every time I heard about a party, I couldn’t make myself go, but I also couldn’t not go.

  So...I went.

  But I stayed on the outskirts, so the people actually attending the party didn’t realize I was there. There’d been a big bonfire that our town and the neighboring two towns had a while back. I was there, but I’d decided to make it a camping trip—just for me.

  I was there, but not there. And that night had ended weird too, but nothing like this one.

  This time the party was at Zeke Allen’s lake cabin. Not that his cabin was a cabin. It was a mansion—a twenty-room mega log cabin, which no one even blinked at, because that’s just normal for these people. Most everyone was staying at the cabin, not trekking back here into the woods like me. I’d set up my tent a bit away, doing my camping thing again (something I love, by the way), when I heard voices. They weren’t down by the h
ouse, spilling out over the back patio, or even at the lake. Nope. These voices were up the hill, coming from farther into the woods.

  I’d done my research. Zeke Allen’s cabin was set a good ten miles away from the nearest neighbors. I should’ve been in the clear to sneak onto their land, do a little freestyle camping, and listen to the party sounds like the loser I was. But noooo. I was about to get company.

  As I snuck out of my tent, and realized who it was, I almost crapped my pants.

  It was Blaise DeVroe, holding hands with Mara Daniels.

  As popular girls went, Mara Daniels was one of the nicer ones. She was on the dance team. Dark hair. Shorter, but athletic. The problem with Mara was that she was friends with the other popular girls. Some of them were nasty—hence the reason I wasn’t friends with them. Not that they’d tried to get to know me. Not that I even registered on their radar. But then again, that’s what I did.

  I didn’t engage. I didn’t attend. I was on the edge. I was the invisible girl, and here I was, being the invisible girl once more, but man…

  When I saw it was him, and then saw how his hand went from holding hers and guiding her to a tree to slipping around and grabbing her ass, something came over me. I couldn’t retreat back to my tent. I couldn’t even stay hidden behind a tree and just listen.

  I know, I know. This was all sorts of wrong, but Blaise was Blaise.

  He’d become the guy in my dreams, my weird schoolgirl fantasies. He was my high school crush. Everyone had one. If you didn’t, you’re even weirder than me, and that’s saying something. So when I started salivating over Blaise DeVroe, I kinda just let myself go. I mean, nothing was ever going to happen. Guys like him didn’t date girls like me. They didn’t even notice girls like me.

  I wasn’t crazy. That’d make me all sorts of delusional.

  I was a realist. I knew my place in life’s hierarchy. I was at the bottom. I was not the very bottom—because of my family—but socially, I was barely one rung up the ladder.

  Anyway, when Blaise started kissing Mara, when Mara knelt in front of him, when she opened his pants and took out his cock—I lost all train of thought.

  I watched as she took his dick in her mouth, as her head began bobbing up and down over him.

  And, oh my God.

  My whole body was awash with sensations, and I was captivated. Captivated! Entranced. Mesmerized.

  I could not look away.

  Then I felt throbbing and a warm feeling between my legs, and it was game over. It was all I could do not to make a sound, because I wanted to. So bad. I wanted to moan. I wanted to touch myself, but I didn’t. I kept myself reined in, but watch? Oh yeah. I watched.

  I couldn’t not watch.

  I watched the whole thing.

  I loved the whole thing.

  And then at the end of it, I almost died.

  BLAISE

  I was getting my dick sucked while a weird chick watched us.

  “Hmmm…Blaise.” My girl moaned, readjusted, and took me in again. She reached up to stroke under, and damn, that felt good. My eyes almost rolled back, but I caught myself and held steady. My hands went to her head. Sometimes a little guidance went a long way, and as I applied gentle pressure, my girl was receptive. So I started to drive her mouth over me. All the while, I never stopped watching the other girl.

  I couldn’t place her.

  I was pretty sure she hadn’t been at Zeke’s party, but who the fuck knew. He’d invited fifty people, way more than he needed to, but Zeke was a lovable bully idiot. He was mean. Some might say he had a slime effect on them, but he was my best friend. I couldn’t judge. I had an attitude the size of fucking Alaska. Anyway, back to Zeke. He liked to go big, and that included his parties and his fuck-ups, and there were a lot of both.

  That girl…

  I liked her.

  Fresh face. I could tell she was light on the makeup. Her face was one of those that would look jaded under a ton of crap, but without it, she looked the way she did right now: innocent and pure. Though the fact that she was watching my blowjob didn’t fit either of those adjectives. She was tugging on her lip now, her hand lingering on her shorts.

  Christ.

  Her shorts.

  My chick was wearing a bikini top and shredded jean shorts—and those shorts were hardly there. They were more decorative so she didn’t get arrested for public indecency. All the girls at this party were like that. Bikinis, and anything else they wore was painted on their bodies. The old school way of thought might’ve labeled them sluts or whores, but since we were all liberal and progressive, we went with sexually healthy appetites.

  I, currently, was enjoying my girl’s appetite.

  She opened her mouth wider, angled her head to the other side, and oooh yeah—I was in at a whole different depth now. Fuck it. I took hold of her hair and started moving. She moaned, but only widened her jaw and spread her knees a little more apart. She was bracing herself.

  Fuuuuck yeah.

  That meant I could go a little harder, which I did. I shoved her down a bit more, a better angle, and right there. I loved when they let me take over. But then I looked back up to watch Voyeur Girl. My friends and I did not hang out with girls like my voyeur. My dick got harder. I almost cursed, gritting my teeth. I had not expected that reaction, but I’d take it.

  The girl watching wore a buttoned-up maroon shirt, the ends tied at her waist. She had a good rack. The shirt was bunched up to hide ’em, but I saw her girls. They would be a decent handful, almost perfect. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. There was enough of a tease between the buttons that I could see just skin, just tits.

  The rest of her… I had no words.

  Khaki shorts that ended mid-thigh, and what a fucking thigh she had.

  This girl could model.

  Long. Lean. Legs meant to wrap around your waist—I thrust a little harder, and my girl groaned around me. I needed to ease up, but I was almost gone. Almost. Not quite.

  Then Mara reached up and massaged my boys. That was enough.

  I unloaded into her.

  She swallowed like a champ and smiled up at me. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and for a second, the weird chick was forgotten. I grinned at Mara. I always liked Mara’s blowjobs, and because I wasn’t an asshole, I tugged her up and moved her farther behind the trees so she was hidden from view.

  Now was my turn to make her feel good.

  Kissing her, I slid my hand inside her shorts and inside her, and when she was done and moaning, I looked over my shoulder. The other girl was still there, still glued to her tree, her eyes still right on us, but this time, she saw me.

  Her eyes bulged out, and she inhaled sharply. She jerked back, and I grinned, lifting my hand to my mouth. I tasted Mara on my fingers as I watched her. Then I winked.

  She uttered a muffled scream.

  Chuckling, I grabbed Mara as she tensed in my arms.

  Her head snapped around. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” I kept her tight to my side as she fixed her pants. “Come on. Let’s go back to the party.”

  As we left, I glanced back.

  The girl was gone.

  2

  Blaise

  “Dude! Soccer superstar!”

  I grimaced. I wasn’t known here for soccer and a part of me was hoping to keep that on the down low, for now. Zeke welcomed us back into the house with a toga half draped over him, a drinking helmet on his head—both straws hanging down by the sides of his face—and nothing else. Wait, he had flip-flops on.

  Mara giggled and disappeared into a side room as I kept going. She touched my back as she went. I knew Mara. This wasn’t our first run around together. She’d stick with the girls for the rest of the night, but if I wanted her later, I just needed to give her the nod. She wasn’t like other girls. Mara didn’t make demands to be more than a hook-up. That’s why we’d worked so far, but that chick…

  Who was that chick?

  I shook m
y head. “You forgot your pants.”

  Zeke grinned, swaying on his feet. He didn’t say anything more about soccer and glancing around the room, no one seemed to be paying attention. The usual group surrounded him—Brian and Branston, brothers, who tended to wade into any stupid fucking fight Zeke liked to pick. I didn’t really mind his friends, but they were his friends. Zeke was mine. That was about the best way to describe my ‘friends’ since coming to FCA.

  Best friend.

  He and I threw that phrase around, but it wasn’t always accurate. Some days I loved my best friend. But I won’t lie. Some days I couldn’t stand the guy. And he also loved me more than I ever did him. He liked to use that word a lot too. He meant it in a fierce, bromance sort of way. His feelings for me had grown while I’d been gone, living in New York. I had buds out there, a few good ones—and right now, as Zeke’s dick flapped in the wind and two girls giggled beside him—I missed my East Coast friends more than I wanted to admit. One or both of those girls had already knelt before Zeke this evening, and I was sure the three of them would end up together later tonight.

  Still. Despite being mean, ugly, and slimy at times, Zeke was loyal.