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All my little sicko sluts who want to be spit-roasted…
Dylan Caruso, the one in all black with silvery-white hair and black roots, rings and tattoos all over his hands, seductive hooded eyes covered in kohl, and a killer smile, flicks a lighter on and off.
Alistair King sits next to him in his black netted outfit covered in thick jewelry, his curly, light-brown hair softly swishing in the wind, and a devilish smirk on his pale face as he looks down at the girls.
But worst of all is Felix Rivera … a brown-haired guy with a face so sharply cut and intense sanpaku hazel eyes so deeply sunken in tha...
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Except me. I stand still in the middle of the hallway until Felix is right in front of me. Still, I don’t move.
Seconds tick by like minutes while I can practically feel people’s gazes boring holes into my back. But I don’t care. I’ve lived with stares and laughter my whole life, so I’m not afraid of bullies anymore. No one can hurt me if I don’t let them.
“Don’t tempt me to twist your fucking nipples because I will do it in front of everyone here… Penelope.”
Penelope, Penelope … That name has such a nice ring to it. Nice enough to taint. Nice enough to corrupt.
They know something I don’t. And I’ll find out what exactly it is. Even if it costs me my fucking soul.
