Chapter 6
“Is that her?” Sickle screwed his face up, unimpressed as Boleyn walked past the café where we were sitting. Stupid girl. She should never walk alone. Everyone around here knew you always walked in groups and, even better, paid for personal security. Her daddy must really fucken hate her.
“She looks better without the large shades,” I tried to convince him, not that it’s important for our enemy to be attractive, even though she was. It’s not like we were going to pursue her in that way, well…maybe a little bit.
“Where is she going?” Sickle glared at her as she walked to the end of the road, then paused at the campus police station. “She’s got a complaint already. Fuck, she’s only been here five seconds.”
“Maybe Lev got to her. The dead rat in the bathroom,” I told him, and his face cracked in a small smile. The only time you’d see Sickle smile was when he was being cruel or when his team won a game. I can’t remember the last time he laughed, perhaps before Dad was arrested when we were teenagers.
“That is only the beginning of what else he has in store for her,” I laughed as I watched Boleyn walk across the road toward the Social Sciences School.
“Yeah, there’s nothing like a little tickle with a knife,” he said snidely as I drained my coffee frap and pushed my chair back. “Where are you going?”
I tilted my head in the direction of Boleyn’s path. “To do some homework,” I replied, and he cocked his black eyebrows, knowing exactly what I meant.
As I left, a blond who had been hovering nearby, waiting for the right time to come over, appeared at the chair I vacated. “Is this seat taken?” she asked sweetly to my older brother. She was his type—big tits, curvy ass, eager to please.
But Sickle’s response was to ignore her, as if she were invisible, and I assumed she must be new and didn’t know how the Warwicks vibed. When she asked again, assuming that Sickle didn’t hear her request, he impatiently snarled, “You’re blocking my view.”
Fuck, he’s entertaining. He had no concept of the feelings of others, and I hadn’t changed as he got older, as he was too much like my father.
Leaving behind my older brother, I fixed my gaze on the black ponytail under a black cap, nice ass moving in black jeans.
This girl was completely devoid of color and fucking depressing to look at.
Lev, though, would be drawn to her like a vampire bat to blood, whereas I prefer a girl who didn’t look like she just rolled out of a grave.
I heard footsteps behind me and discovered dirty ol’ Deano, a tutor in the business school, carrying a coffee cup. I pulled back so he could overtake me and pretended to check my phone, saying, “g’morning,” as he went, wondering how many students he’ll fuck this year.
I saw him noticing the Boleyn girl, and I didn’t like it. She’s mine…ours, not for fucking, but for tormenting and teasing. If he’s hanging around in her contacts, then it’s going to make it harder for us to do our job.
Running my hand along the buildings’ walls, I kept a good distance from her until she stopped to take a phone call. I hid around the corner and tried to listen, and even though I couldn’t hear her, her tone indicated that she was distressed and was speaking to someone she was friendly with.
Dirty ol’ Deano walked past her again, carrying the coffee cup, and I did a double-take as he was ahead of me, then turned back.
Is the dude sharking the girl, waiting for the right time to strike?
She paused her conversation and smiled back at Deano and waited until he was gone before she continued speaking.
Once her phone call ended, I expected her to continue moving in the direction she was going, but she turned back and seemed in a hurry. This was the perfect opportunity to confront her about a problem that had recently cropped up.
As soon as she approached the corner, I stepped out and stood in front of her. “Oh god, not you again,” she snarled, and it annoyed me that I didn’t enamor her like every other sophomore girl. Maybe I wasn’t her type. I didn’t care. Actually, yes, I did.
She stepped around me, but I stepped in front of her to block her way again. “We need to talk,” I told her.
“No, we don’t, and jeez move out of the way. You’re like an upright beluga whale,” she spat, frustrated.
“Belu…wait. No. You’re not going anywhere,” I pulled her around the corner down a lonely path in between two buildings where there was no one about.
“Don’t touch me,” she snarled, trying to snatch her hand away from my grip, but she wasn’t strong enough.
“Shush, Boleyn, or I’ll make you shut up,” I promised, grabbing her cap and pulling it off her head, tossing it on the ground. “Remove your shades.”
“No,” she hissed, writhing like a snake trying to escape my clutches.
“Fine,” I raised my hand to grab them, but turned her head away as a cloud of her perfume infiltrated my senses and my cock twinged.
I could fuck her right now, if I wanted to, and there wasn’t much she could do about it.
Fucking a Boleyn until she screamed was a goal worth pursuing, but I had other issues on my mind right now.
However, I bet she felt fine wrapped around my cock, titties jiggling with each thrust, plump lips parted as my wood drew in and out, saturated in her juice.
Grabbing her face with my hand, I turned her head to face me, “I repeat, Boleyn, take off your fucking shades.”
“Why?” she questioned hotly, making me hornier. This was not going to end well. What I thought would be an easy demand had turned into a struggle with a barking hyena. “You can talk to me through my glasses. I’d rather protect my eyesight from you.”
That comment tipped me over the edge a little, and I grabbed her shades and pulled them off her face as her mouth opened and those teeth sank into my hand. “Fuck, woman,” I recoiled from the pain, but managed to restrain her wrists and hold them above her head.
“Pretty eyes,” I told her, ignoring the throbbing in my hand and in my pants. “Green. Like a swamp.”
“Where you’ll find your dead body once I’m done with you,” she ranted, and I frowned in confusion.
“That doesn’t make sense, Boleyn. I can’t find my dead body if I’m dead at the bottom of a swamp.
I mean…critical thinking is not your strongest talent, I’m guessing.
You might not do so well in business studies, I’m just saying,” I educated her while her cute little nose screwed up, but those swamp eyes wanted to kill me.
“I see you take after your father,” she snarled.
“Sure do, but trust me, Boleyn, I’m the nicer brother,” I informed her as she chewed her bottom lip, and I wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t.
“Hurry up and speak your wisdom. I haven’t got all day,” she squirmed, still trying to escape my cage. But, fuck, she was making it hard not to fuck her.
“Two things,” I started, then caught movement in my peripheral vision and looked in that direction to find it was a group of students walking by, but I didn’t think they saw us.
Boleyn suddenly let out a scream that nearly deafened me, and I released her wrist, slapped my hand over her mouth, and checked if anyone heard. A burning sensation tore into my palm as she bit down hard on the fleshy part of my thumb.
I clenched my jaw to fight back the pain, then felt her hand grab my crotch, but not in the way I hoped.
“What do you think you are doing, Boleyn?” My teeth ground as her eyes narrowed and squeezed my left ball.
“Let me go,” her voice muffled by my hand.
“No. Not until I’ve finished speak-ing,” I told her scornfully as she squeezed my ball a little harder and dug her fingernails in, and it felt as if my entire abdomen was on fire. It was becoming more difficult to control the situation when pain was dominating the cells in my body.
She squeezed again, and I had to drop her hand from her mouth to prise her stinging claws from my ball or else I’ll fucking blackout. In the exchange, she managed to escape my grasp, but I grabbed her again. She fled, but kicked and spat.
“Settle the fuck down,” I yelled at her.
“No,” she snarled fiercely. “I know who you are, Warwick. The kingmaker who wants to be king.”
“No. We’re already kings,” I laughed at her screwed up face. If looks could kill…Luckily, I was stronger and larger than her, and she wasn’t armed. “Look around, Boleyn. Who do you think owns this fucking place? Us.” I pointed to my chest. “The Warwicks. You’re here because your daddy hates you.”
There was a flint of doubt in her eyes as I planted that seed in her mind, and it was starting to grow.
But it was only for a moment before she pulled herself back into the present, “No, he doesn’t,” she hissed vehemently.
“You know nothing, scumbag. And the Warwicks don’t own Castlehill, you liar. ”
“This is our territory, sweetheart, so yes, we do own it. Sorry to break it to you,” I stated charmingly as she kept struggling against my hold on her, as I kept those naughty hands away from my balls and those teeth away from my skin.
“Don’t lie and let me go. We’re done here,” she seethed.
“We’re not done until I say I’m done,” I shot her a sharp, warning look, but she brushed it aside. It was getting on my fucking nerves that she wasn’t reacting the way I expected her to.
I pinned her against the wall again as every insult under the sun came out of her sultry mouth. “Single cell amoeba, oaf, ogre, camel spit…” and so on.
“Interesting style of flirting,” I chucked at her with a smile, and it only made her madder. “My favorite is camel spit.”
“I’m not flirting with you,” she shouted, outraged by my suggestion.
“Sure, you are,” I hit back smoothly just to stir it up with her.
“Of course, you’re unable to tell the difference between someone hating you and someone flirting with you, but naturally, you’d think everyone was flirting with you because you have such a huge ego,” she explained while trying to pull me off her, and I just started laughing because she was actually pretty funny.
“Not as large as other parts of me,” I hinted, but she faked a disgusted look on her face when I knew she was loving this exchange. “Listen, Boleyn,” remembering one of the reasons I wanted to talk to her, “stay away from Dirty ol’ Deano, won’t you?”
“Who?” she hissed back at me.
“Dean, he’s our Finance tutor,” I informed her, and her mouth parted in horror.
“Our? Our? Are you in one of my classes?” she acted shocked, but I had already told her that we shared a class. Back when we first met on the train.
“Yes, just trust me, alright. Stay away from that guy. If he suggests that he should private tutor you after class, then decline his offer. Got it?” I explained, hoping she’d heed the warning.
“No, I’ll do what I want. I’m not going to be dictated by my father’s enemy,” she shrilled, looking at me as if I was recently spewed vomit.
Okay, good point. I shouldn’t expect her to trust me straight off the bat, especially since we plan to make her life a living hell while she is here. This brought me to the next topic.
“The train,” I started, only for three students to show up, taking a shortcut between the building and the next block.
I didn’t want the scene to seem suspicious to the students, so I released my grip on Boleyn.
Before I could dictate my next demand, she was gone.
Damn. She was in such a rush to leave that she forgot her cap and shades, which she left on the path.
I picked them up, put the glasses in my sweatpants pocket, and crushed the cap in my hand.
In a rush to catch her, I cupped my sensitive ball with my hand and limped after her, probably looking like an idiot, but I didn’t care. She was running faster than I was hobbling, and it crossed my mind that maybe she was heading straight to the campus police station.
When I finally came to Dingle Street, where the cafes and grocery stores were, two pairs of narrowed eyes were staring at me from an outside table at one of the cafes.
“What’s up with you?” Sickle asked as Lev was frowning at me, as I gazed down the road at the police station searching for that dark-haired girl.
“Did you see her? Did she come out this way?” I asked them, chucking her baseball cap and shades onto the table.
“Who? Boleyn?” Sickle asked, bemused.
“Yeah, she ran this way,” I replied, frustrated. “I hope she didn't go to the cops, ‘cos that’ll fuck me off.”
Lev reached for the cap and brought it to his nose to sniff it. “What did you do to her?” His tone was accusatory, and I didn’t like it.
It told me he was catching feelings for the girl, and that wasn’t his job. Watch the girl. Stalk the girl. Torment the girl. But don’t fucking catch feelings for her. Not yet, anyway. It’s only day two. Fuck.
“Nothing. I was trying to talk to her, but she wriggled like a lizard,” I said, pulling out a chair and winced when I sat down, holding my balls.
The waitress arrived and placed a large slice of chocolate cake and two coffees. “Give it to him,” Sickle ordered the waitress, pointing toward me. “I think he needs the extra calories.”