Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(2)

I hop over the bench, pushing toward her, and her chin lifts to the sky—the only way she’s able to keep hers on mine—but she doesn’t inch away.

“Why are there no fences around to keep people like me out? To stop me from staring at your house?” I counter.

“Because this place is as safe as safe can be.”

“No such thing, baby girl.”

“The worst that happens here is Tom Marvel down the street waters his yard on even days instead of odd.” Her mouth gapes as she mocks shock, tilting her head.

So she’s a brat.

I glare. “Sounds like a good time.”

“Bunches.”

“You said you live here?”

She slips her thumb around the straps of her backpack. “I did.”

I flick my gaze over her form. “All five-foot of you?”

She straightens her spine, gaining a whole extra inch, but before anything else can be said, the heavy creak of old metal, followed by a quick slam of a screen has both our heads snapping toward the sound.

A slow smirk spreads across my lips as I take in the sight.

Thick, dark hair, long and lengthy with pasty-ass skin.

There she is.

The picture of payback.

A perfect knockoff of her punk-ass brother.

“Ah, now it makes sense,” the short chick says.

“What, how you’re cramping my style, wasting my time and your breath?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the target as she lights a cigarette, bringing it to her red painted lips.

Her head turns this way the second she pulls it from her mouth, and slowly she blows out a long line of smoke, zeroing in on me and the mouse.

She waits, but so do I.

Here kitty, kitty...

She pretends to be chill, but can’t handle it, and forces herself to take slow strides this way.

“You can go now,” I tell the girl at my side, but she doesn’t move, and quickly my mark is stepping in front of me.

“Cousin,” she drags out, but neither of us bother looking her way. “Who’s your friend?”

Her sexy smirk makes its appearance.

It’s a good one, too. Little too confident, but it’s all good.

I can kill that, easy. Besides, this would be a lot more difficult if she were unsure about herself—groundwork would have to be laid before the girl could be.

“Not my friend,” short girl shares, her tone all peppy and shit as she adds, “He’s here for you, actually.”

At that, a saucy grin grows as if she already figured so.

This shit will be too fucking easy.

I shouldn’t play with my food, but what am I to do when it so clearly wants to play back?

I push closer, coming almost eye level with her and her focus falls to the tattoos on my neck. “I got an hour before reality comes crashing down, Brielle. What are you gonna do with it?”

She studies me a long moment and then turns to the cockblocker.

Her demeanor shifts, a small twist edging her lips. “Think you can keep yourself outside a little longer?”

The animosity isn’t missed.

“Do I ever come in when you take over?” short chick replies.

Brielle grins, and just like that, leads me right where she wants me.

Toward her bedroom.

The house is neat, almost sterile, and a huge fuckin’ contrast to her room, which is a damn mess. There’s shit all over, and the bed’s unmade.

I glare at the mattress sitting on the floor, about ready to walk out and drag her ass with me, but then the girl starts to strip.

So, I plant my ass, and I let her put on a little show.

I may be a guy, one who loves to fuck, gives as good as he gets and all that, but I don’t do desperate, and it seems she’s borderline just that.

I came here for a reason, though, so I lean back on my hands and let her do as she pleases, which happens to be me.

With her breasts hanging bare, tight-ass pants still on, she steps toward me, and drops to her knees. She frees my cock from my jeans and wastes no time pulling me deep into her throat.

It’s not the way I like it, I need a little lead-up, like to build that heavy tension that gets my blood pumpin’, cock twitchin’, and mind racing. Need my girl wet and ready, desperate for the first touch of the night and ready for more, fuckin’ needy. Greedy.

This girl allowed time for none of that, so all I can do is watch her work.

A minute or two ticks by and then she’s moaning around my shaft. Finally, my hard-on grows just shy of a full salute.

I tether my hands in her hair to give her a bit more drive, and it works. She picks up some speed, tightens her lips around me more, and I tip my head back a bit, trying to fall into the moment more, but as my eyes glide by the window, I fucking freeze.

The cousin, as she called her, peeks through the torn blinds, her head dropping when she realizes she’s been caught and suddenly she’s gone.

A heavy crash and quiet yelp follows.

“The fuck?” I snap, freeing myself and jumping to my feet.

I’m soft in an instant, quickly shoving myself into my jeans, and rush out the door. “She better not have been recording.”

Footsteps pound the linoleum floor at my back.

“Please,” Brielle scoffs, hiding her naked chest with her hands as we push out onto the porch.