Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(82)

That's when I notice that he's gathering his shirt from the floor and putting it back on.

“What are you doing?” I ask, terrified that he's panicking on me again. I try to sit up, but it's hard as shit on that soft-ass bed with my arms bound behind my back. “You can't leave me again, Oscar.”

“I need to deal with Coraleigh before I deal with …” He gestures at me with his tattooed hand before reaching up to adjust his tie. “Whatever this is. Be a good girl and wait here for me?” Oscar fixes his pants and then heads for his bedroom door, pausing to glance back at me. “If Rebecca comes knocking, tell her I'm in the bathroom; she doesn't need to know that I ever left.”

He opens the door as I scream his name.

“Don't you fucking dare, Oscar Montauk!” I shout, but it's too late. He steps outside and closes the door behind him. I hear the very distinct sound of a key being applied to the lock. The deadbolt slides into place, and I let out a frustrated scream.

This is not happening again.

I'm going to fucking murder him in his sleep.

What a piece of shit.

What a royal motherfucking, cocksucking nightmare of a man.

I kick at his footboard with both feet before rolling onto my belly and struggling to sit up. My stomach muscles are screaming by the time I get into a sitting position, both of my feet firmly on the floor. My fingers feel for the rope, but Oscar really is a master of ropes. When I stand up and use his full-length mirror to peek at my back, I see an intricately woven pattern of pink silk ropes, like a sculpture made of rope and skin.

My breath catches, but then I remember that the asshole just left me sans orgasm and tied up in his bedroom. There must be a trick to all this, because he wouldn't leave me vulnerable like this. If someone from the Charter Crew were to show up …

I sit back down on the bed and then fall into the pillows, staring up at the popcorn ceiling above my head. My entire body feels electrified and alive, desperate for touch. I end up closing my eyes and imagining that Oscar comes back, that he strips down and climbs above me. Rubbing my thighs together, I work up a sweet friction that has my body throbbing and pulsing with pleasure.

Biting my lower lip, I squeeze and rub my legs until I feel the very edges of an orgasm teasing me. It's not enough though, no matter how hard I try, and I kick the footboard in frustration again. After a while, I end up falling asleep.

When I wake up, my arms are untied and Callum is lying on his side and staring at me, hood pulled up, hands in a prayer position beneath his cheek.

“Hey there sleepyhead,” he murmurs in his husky voice. “How are you feeling?”

I sit up, realizing that my arms are now untied, my naked body covered with a fuzzy black blanket.

“What time is it?” I ask, and Cal pauses to pull his phone from the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Almost ten at night,” he says, and I feel panic spike through me. Heather! “Don't worry: Aaron was waiting when the bus dropped your sister off after school. We've got her.” I exhale sharply, guilt washing over me. Joining Havoc meant keeping Heather safe, but if my head is so far up my ass in pursuit of the Havoc Boys, then I'm not doing my job as a big sister. I make a sound of frustration, gritting my teeth against the overwhelming rage I feel toward Oscar Montauk. “And I don't think he intended to leave you for so long, if that helps any.”

“Only a little bit,” I say, rubbing my hands over my face before realizing that I'm sitting stark naked in Oscar's bedroom while Callum watches me in the dark with his too-blue eyes. It seems imperative that I gather my clothes now. “Where is he?”

I stand up, acting like I don't feel Cal's eyes on my ass. It's only been a handful of days since our first time; I'm still putting all my emotions in order. At least now that we've fucked, he's unlikely to die now? Right?

That's how these sorts of stories work. I mean, real life makes literally zero narrative sense, but I can always hope that whatever wicked god or goddess is watching over us understands how much we mean to each other. Pluck one blossom from our tree, and we'll wilt, leaving nothing but death and thorns in our wake.

“We ran into a bit of trouble,” Callum explains as I gather my clothes, putting my bra and tank top on first. It's a bit provocative, to wiggle into those tight leather pants I love so much. “The Charter Crew is pushing back hard in retaliation for that drive-by. Likely, we'll be in a full-blown war by the time the winter formal rolls around.” I can hear Cal yawning, so I take advantage of the moment to whip my pants on as fast as I can.

Of course, then I turn around and there he is, pressed close against me.

“Is Oscar okay?” I choke out, because even if I want to cut his balls off with Hael's hunting knife, it's my job to make him bleed and nobody else's. Maybe Vic's, I guess, but only for Havoc business stuff.

Callum nods, reaching up to brush some hair behind my ear. His touch makes me shiver, reigniting the awful ache in my lower belly.

“He's a little bruised up, but he'll survive. Hael should be here to pick us up in a few; we'll rendezvous at the garage.” Callum picks up my jacket and helps me into it, stopping just once to kiss me on the side of the neck. “I see bruises,” he whispers, and I shiver again. “If he hurts you, I'll kill him.”