Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One (King, #5)

by T.M. Frazier

I never knew true fear until I met pure evil. He wore a smile and a bow tie.

If she really knew that I was thinking about how her bruises and dried blood looked like art under the moonlight, and how I’d like to paint a line or two on her skin myself, she’d probably scream. Loud.

When you start walking on egg shells around people, that’s when you know that those are people you don’t need to be around. Life’s too short to pretend to be anyone else. I’m just me. I say what I want to fucking say. I do what I want to do and I don’t fucking apologize for it.”

when she’d insisted on teaching me to meditate I mostly played a recap of American Ninja Warrior in my head until she told me we were done.

“You know, sometimes I’m not sure when you’re serious.” “Oh, well that’s easy to figure out. I’m always sometimes joking in a way that’s honest.”

“Friends don’t fondle one another.” “Bullshit, sure they do,” Preppy argued,

I chuckled, yanking her back by her jet-black hair tangling in my fingers. I licked the side of her face and pushed my hard cock into the seam of her ass. “You want to be high? You can be high on me. You want to take the edge off? I’m gonna do just that, baby.”

I found out she played the violin in the sixth grade and she had to talk me out of going to the 24 hour pawn in the middle of the night to buy her one, because the image of her playing for me naked wasn’t an easy one to shake.