Cruel Prep: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Princes of Ravenlake Academy Book 1)

by Nicole Fox

  Lily laughs and that vibration sends new sensations that make me curse again.

  Eventually, I look down, and she is bobbing up and down on my length, one hand positioned at the base of me, stroking up in tandem. I grab her hair and throw it over her shoulder so I can have a better view, and immediately the heat in my belly grows into a flame.

  Watching her mouth filled with me is the single sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not sure what to do with that information.

  Her tongue knows exactly what to do. It’s just … perfect. Practiced, even.

  She told me she wasn’t a virgin, and now I finally believe her. Lily knows what she is doing.

  I watch her work, thrusting softly into her mouth as the pressure begins to build.

  When I reach my tipping point, I tense and clutch the back of her neck, but Lily doesn’t show any sign of wanting to pull away, of trying to avoid the inevitable. If anything, she sucks harder.

  “Fuck,” I moan as the first ripples of pleasure roll through me.

  Lily’s cheeks expand and then I feel her throat bob as she swallows what I’m spilling in her mouth.

  It is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  She swallows it all, licks me clean, and then wipes her mouth on the back of her hand as she sits back in her seat and buckles her seat belt.

  I’m still frozen, my dick limp and spent in my lap, when she raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you going to put that away?”

  I ignore the flare of embarrassment and tuck myself in my pants. “Why did you do that?”

  I don’t want to ask, but I have to know.

  Lily crosses her arms over her chest and sits back in the passenger seat. “It doesn’t matter. Just take me home.”

  20

  Lily

  I shouldn’t have done that.

  My mom got mad at me because I forgot to tell her that I got a ride home. She thought something horrible had happened to me.

  Plus, the story is already spreading. I assume Finn is telling people. Why wouldn’t he? He wants all of me, and I assume that means my reputation, too.

  Or, what’s left of it, anyway.

  The next morning, my locker is spray painted with a red “A”—an overused literary reference if ever there was one—and the inside is coated in what smells like rotten fish juice.

  I’m late to homeroom because I have to take my textbooks to the bathroom and wipe them down so I can get through the day without a green smell cloud hanging around my head.

  The teacher won’t hear my excuses.

  “By this point in the semester, you should know where my classroom is, Ms. DeVry. That’s one demerit for you.”

  And the demerits just keep coming.

  The second one comes during passing period between second and third block. I have my head down, earbuds in, trying to get where I’m going without any trouble when I feel a hard push from behind.

  I shout, stumble forward, and then suddenly, I’m caught in a tangle of limbs.

  Cora’s limbs.

  Her palms slam into my chest as I fall. She screams and shoves me back.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Get off me, DeVry!”

  “Hey! Hey!” The hall monitor, a young biology teacher named Mr. Henry, runs forward and grabs me by the shoulders, lifting me up. “What is going on here?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t do anything,” I say, righting myself.

  “That bitch attacked Cora!”

  Cora’s friends are on the sidelines—the only witnesses to the event, apparently. They point their fingers at me. I know it won’t do any good to argue.

  Cora has already told me about her relationship with Mr. Henry. Nothing illicit happened, but they have plans for when she graduates. Mr. Henry pitched in the minor leagues for a few years, but when his shoulder gave out, he fell back on his teaching degree.

  Cora has no intention of being with him long-term, but she likes the way he fills out his slacks, and she made it explicitly clear to me, and apparently to Mr. Henry, that she plans to do dirty things to him for the entire summer before she leaves for college.

  For no other reason than that he doesn’t want to ruin his future sex plans, Mr. Henry gives me a demerit without hesitation, and sends me on my way while he checks to make sure Cora is okay.

  No one checks on me.

  The third demerit is at lunch.

  I can’t eat behind the school anymore, not with the memory of Dallas haunting those steps, and I definitely can’t eat in the actual lunchroom because God knows what would happen if I leave myself that exposed to Cora and her harpies.

  So I’ve settled on getting my lunch from the cafeteria and taking it to the main lobby of the school.

  There is a bench just across from the front office where I’m in full view of the secretaries and within screaming distance of the principal’s office.

  I know it makes me a wimp, but I feel perfectly fine about using the administration for my own protection against the enemies I’ve accidentally made.

  Mexican pizza with mixed vegetables is on the menu, but I opt for a plastic-wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bag of chips, and an apple.

  Just as I’m about to leave the cafeteria, however, someone steps into my path.

  I don’t need to look up to know who it is. I recognize the frosty smell of him and the zing of electricity I feel at being in his presence.

  Finn doesn’t usually come into this part of the school. Despite it being against the rules for anyone to leave campus during the day, Finn and the other Golden Boys always grab something from a nearby restaurant for lunch.

  Today, however, is my unlucky day.

  “Hungry?” he sneers.

  I meet his eyes for a second, and it is hard to imagine this cold, cruel boy is the same person who was cursing in ecstasy while he erupted in my mouth less than twenty-four hours earlier.

  When Finn and I are alone, he seems different.

  Not kinder, exactly. I don’t think Finn is capable of being kind. But … he’s different. More approachable. By himself, he seems like a real person. A fucked-up person. But a person, nonetheless.

  Whereas with the other Golden Boys flanking him like they are right now, he seems like a cartoon villain.

  “That’s usually why people come to this room,” I say with a shrug. “It being a cafeteria, you know.”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t full,” he says, eyes narrowed as they slide down my face and body. “After everything you swallowed yesterday.”

  His friends chuckle, and I feel my face flame with embarrassment.

  I felt powerful yesterday, bringing someone like Finn to release like that. For the first time, I felt in control and capable.

  But Finn is trying to reclaim the reins.

  “Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite as big a meal as I expected,” I say innocently, lifting my thumb and forefinger up only a few inches apart.

  It isn’t true. Finn’s size was daunting—larger than I expected, if anything—but his ego is big enough without me saying so.

  Still, hurt flashes in his eyes. He apparently isn’t used to taking what he dishes out.

  One of his friends—Viktor, I think—slaps a hand over his mouth and stifles his laugh, earning him a warning glare from Finn. I don’t give a shit what Finn or his friends think of me, but I still have to bite back a smile, pleased with myself.

  Before I can react, Finn snatches the apple from where it sits on top of my books, hands it back to the football team’s new quarterback, Caleb, and Caleb launches it towards where a group of teachers are standing under the clock.

  Instinctively, I lunge out to try and grab the apple before they can do anything with it, but my reflexes are far too slow. My arm is still extended when the fruit connects with the right butt cheek of a middle-aged teacher.

  She yelps, grabs her backside, and spins around looking for the culprit.

  Her eyes land almost immediately on me and my outstretched ha
nd.

  I yank my hand back as fast as I can, tucking it behind my back, but it doesn’t matter. Finn and the Golden Boys have gone wide-eyed and serious, looking from me to the teacher.

  If I didn’t know them, I’d believe their handsome, innocent faces, too.

  And that’s demerit number three.

  At Ravenlake Prep, three demerits result in immediate after-school detention and a call to your parents. Since my parent works at the school, I have the pleasure of my mom meeting me outside of my fourth-period class in her Ravenlake Prep uniform, nostrils flared.

  “What in the heck is wrong with you, kiddo?” She sounds exasperated and disappointed, and I don’t want to tell her the truth. Mostly because I don’t even know what the truth is.

  “It’s a misunderstanding,” I say, shaking my head and dropping my chin against my chest. “Can we talk about this later?”

  “Not after school, since you’ll be in detention,” my mom says with a sigh. She wipes a hand down her face and then rests it on her hip.

  She takes a deep breath, a sure sign that she is overwhelmed and trying to calm down before speaking to me. When she opens her eyes, she looks exhausted.

  “I’ll meet you at the same spot after detention, and we’ll talk about it then, okay?”

  Before she leaves, she points a finger at me, eyes narrowed. “And stay out of trouble.”

  I watch her hurry back to her tasks, feeling sadder than I have in a long time. Even my own mom isn’t on my team anymore.

  After that, I manage to keep a low profile for a few hours. Until gym.

  I practically run to my last class of the day, hoping to get in and out of the locker room before Cora and her bitchy friends can corner me again.

  I have a lock on my locker now, which will keep them out of my stuff, so I just have to focus on physically avoiding them.

  This, however, turns out to be my mistake.

  When I turn into my row of lockers, Cora is already sitting on the bench. Her head is down, her face hidden, and she is hunched over. Her shoulders are shaking, and I can hear soft crying sounds.

  My brain screams at me to run in the other direction, but I find myself inching towards her like she is a wild animal I’m trying to catch.

  “Go away.”

  There are tears in her voice, and I don’t know what to do. Cora isn’t my friend. She has made that abundantly clear. Yet, I can’t just walk away without trying to comfort her.

  Plus, in the back of my mind is the idea that maybe this could be the moment we mend bridges. Maybe we could form a truce right now if I’m nice to her.

  So, I sit down next to her and gently lay my hand on her back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything.” She sniffles and buries her face in her arms, her body practically folded in half. “I’ve been sleeping with this guy, and he is way out of my league. Like, a whole different stratosphere. I really like him, but he is ashamed to be seen with me in public.”

  “Is it Mr. Henry?” I whisper.

  “No!” she snaps, breaking out of her tears for a second before letting out a shuddery breath and sniffling. “Besides, it’s not even about him, really. My whole life is just fucking pathetic. My family is broke, I wear shitty clothes that don’t fit, and I’m so fucking boring that no one can stand to be around me.”

  I frown, confused. Cora is insanely rich and wears expensive, skintight clothes like it’s her job.

  Then Cora lifts her head, and I see she is smiling like a shark. Her lips are pulled back in a devious grin. “Oh wait. I forgot. That’s not my life. That’s yours.”

  I hear footsteps in the hallway, and then the locker room door is thrown open. Mr. Woodson is calling my name. He sounds pissed.

  Before I can answer, Cora pulls something from between her legs, shoves it in my hand, and darts away.

  It’s a can of spray paint.

  21

  Lily

  When Mr. Woodson turns the corner to my row of lockers, he sees the can in my hands.

  His frown deepens into a scowl. He doesn’t ask any questions or make any demands. He simply curls his finger for me to follow him and leads me out of the locker room and towards the front office.

  I want to cry out that I’d never do something like this. It’s just not who I am. At Ravenlake Prep, however, my reputation isn’t so spotless. The exact opposite, in fact.

  I’m the girl who cried gang rape.

  I’m the girl who pointed the finger at a rich kid from Ravenlake Prep and got him sent to another country.

  I’m the girl who everyone suspects. Who everyone hates.

  Because I’m not one of them. I’m an outsider, a Public kid, a peasant and a shit-stirrer and apparently, a whore.

  Which is why Principal Cooprider doesn’t even blink twice when Mr. Woodson reports that he caught me red-handing, graffitiing the girls’ locker room.

  Cora is a fucking slut, the walls read.

  “Why would Cora write something like that about herself?” Principal Cooprider asks when I lamely tried to convince her of the truth.

  Her hands are folded in front of her, lips pursed as though she is attempting to solve this case, even though I already know she has the answer she wants.

  According to her and the school resource office, the culprit is sitting right in front of them.

  Me.

  Only my mother seems to be on my side. “Lily has never been in trouble before,” she says. Then, she sighs and shrugs. “This summer excluded.”

  “I wasn’t in trouble this summer,” I remind her. “I was a witness.”

  Principal Cooprider waves her hand to dismiss the topic. “Past events have no bearing on what is happening now. The fact is, Mrs. DeVry, your daughter received three demerits in one day and was already slated for detention. One of those demerits was given because of an altercation she had with Cora. So, it is not far-fetched to believe she could have been angry and sought revenge.”

  “What about my locker?” I ask. “There was a red ‘A’ spray painted on my locker. Why would I do something like that?”

  “That is not my concern right now,” Principal Cooprider says coolly. “Your behavior has been causing problems with other students and staff. If it continues, your scholarship will be revoked.”

  So pouring rotten fish juice in my locker is a-okay? But God forbid someone pick on meek, defenseless Cora Manning?

  You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

  It seems to me that a lot of things aren’t the administration’s concern, even though they should be.

  I lean forward and spit, “Good! Revoke it. See if I care.”

  “Lily!” My mom lays a hand on my shoulder and pulls me back into the chair. She sighs and addresses the administration—her employer. “We will figure this out. She’ll do whatever it takes to sort this all out.”

  Mr. Woodson steps forward and pulls a mop bucket from around the corner. “Cleaning up your mess is step number one.”

  I sit still in fury for a moment, fists balled and cheeks flushed.

  Then it all just goes away.

  What’s the point in fighting? I can’t win. These people have me surrounded, overpowered. Even having Mom here doesn’t help.

  Truthfully, I’m all on my own.

  And so the easiest thing to do is just submit.

  Mr. Woodson waits in the hallway while I go into the locker room with the cleaning supplies. Having my own officer on guard makes me feel like a prisoner, which honestly doesn’t feel that far from reality.

  I’m trapped in this school, in this life, in this situation. The only way out is to keep my head down and do my time.

  The paint is still tacky in some places, so soap and water can take care of those, but most of the word ‘whore’ requires a special spray that still only dims the red color. It doesn’t get rid of it.

  Principal Cooprider told me to do what I could today and then they would find the matching paint and repaint the wall later. So, I do what I c
an.

  Besides, even though I didn’t spray paint the message, that doesn’t mean I disagree with it. I wouldn’t mind if five classes of girls per day walked into the locker room and saw this message.

  When the door behind me opens, I sigh.

  “I’m not sure what trouble you think I’m going to find in here, but I don’t think I need a personalized guard. It’s all a little Big Brother for my taste.”

  “You don’t need to find trouble.” The second I hear his voice, I gasp and turn around, pressing myself against the wall. Finn is standing in the doorway, head tilted to the side, mouth pulled into a smirk. “Trouble seems to find you.”

  “What are you doing here?” I glance at the door. It’s still closed, and no one seems eager to walk in. “Where’s Mr. Woodson?”

  “Taking a break,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering towards me. “He and I are old friends.”

  Of course they are.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask again.

  The memory of what we did the last time we were in this locker room together feels like a physical presence in the room. It presses down on me from all directions, squeezing the air from my lungs.

  I don’t understand why I want him.

  Finn Foster is a rich, privileged asshole. He is the type of person who gets what he wants or takes it. He has no regard for anyone else or their feelings. He lives to serve himself, even at the expense of others. And I should hate him for it.

  I do hate him.

  But not enough.

  “I came to see you.”

  The words send a thrill through me, and I cross my arms and look down at the floor. “Well, you’ve seen me.”

  “Not all of you,” he breathes.

  I don’t need to look up to know he is studying me. To know that he is staring at me, undressing me with his eyes.

  I cross my arms tighter. “And you won’t. I’m busy, thanks to you.”

  “You deserved it,” he shrugs. “Lying about a man’s dick to his friends is not cool. Plus, not all of this was because of me. I didn’t realize you hated Cora just as much as I do.”