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Boyfriend - noun - some dude who’s managed to convince his girl he’s worth more than just his dick Chiefly ‘Prescott High’ slang: a possessive term that denotes that said boy belongs to a girl with his whole body, heart, and soul; a clear and daring upgrade from fuckboy; used sparingly, if at all
Sigh. It’s you again, isn’t it? The curious one, the foolhardy reader with a thirst for dark and twisted things. Welcome back to Prescott, you brave, stupid motherfucker.
Before you read any further, I need you to promise that you’ll take these secrets to your grave. I know it sounds dramatic, but I have a good thing going for me, and I can’t lose it; I want my name in lights. I deserve my name in lights.
but his gaze widens before sliding back to me again. Shit. Shit, shit, bitch, ass, fuck, dildo, cock, motherfucker,
Widow looks from Ash to me again, his gaze softening just slightly. “I’ll be your man. Not your fuckboy. Oh no. One day, I’ll be your husband.” He’s the one that said that, who declared it to me like some sort of unbreakable promise. Here’s where I find out how dedicated Adrian Arden Lawless is, how much he likes me.
Fuckboy psychos must be given short leashes, preferably made of chain or leather. Because they will chew and twist and squirm; they will go feral, if allowed even one extra inch of leeway.
“Tempting. But no. I won’t get anything out of forcing your hand, Scarlett. I might not have known you very long, but you and me, we’re the same. We don’t like to be told what to do, and you’ll never love me the way I want you to love me if I make you.”
“Regardless, one day you’ll let me fuck you the way I want to fuck you,” Widow continues, drawing his hand back and then using his thumb to tease my sensitive lips. “Let me date you the way I want to date you.” Another pause, and he leans in, putting his mouth near my ear. I know without knowing that he’s smirking at Ash over my shoulder. “Marry you the way I want to marry you. I’m a
patient man, Scarlett. You rile me up, so maybe you don’t believe it, but it’s true. I waited behind bars for five years.”
Uh-oh. Balancing fuckboy psychos is like balancing weights on a scale. If I’m not careful, if I let it tip too much to one side … bloodshed. Someone will die. Not me, but one boy will kill another, and then what happens?
“Uzai,”
Her last moment and she doesn’t want me, no matter how hard I fought for her, how much I loved her, how desperately I tried to save her from this fate.
I close my eyes and let the sobs begin again, allowing myself to get hysterical for one of the first times in my entire life. Scarlett Force, completely and utterly undone.
“Doshite? Doshite yatta nda, Aspen?” he murmurs in Japanese.
“Sayonara, Oniisama.”
“When we die,” Bohnes whispers against my ear, rubbing his thick, velvety shaft against my slick folds, “let’s be buried in the same grave.” A rational person would run away from a statement like that; a normal person would find it disturbing. Instead, it comforts me.
“I love you, Scarlett Force,” he whispers, his lips hovering so close to mine that I have to both hear and feel the words against my lips. “We should fuck until our bodies meld together and become one.” He nips at my lower lip, and I groan, wondering what I should say in response to that, if anything.
Clearly, you don’t know what love looks like either. I’m going to show you.”
Now that I’m here, I see that Lemon and I are exactly the same in one, simple, horrifying way: we fall hopelessly, devastatingly in love.
Something that Bohnes said to me whispers in the back of my mind, and I shiver as his—surprisingly—wise words wash over me. “Normal is filth. Normal is complacency. Normal is accepting that this hideous world is right, and you are wrong. I don’t accept that. Not at all.”
Not when Widow’s arms tighten, and I feel some weird shift in my chest, similar to what happened when I was staying at Bohnes’ place for the first time.
“Dude, you are a stage-five clinger and stalker extraordinaire.” I find that there’s nothing dismissive or upset in my tone or my chest about either of those things. “Don’t stop, please.”
“Go for it.” Widow challenges her with a hard slash of syllables, and then turns to look down at her—literally, not metaphorically I don’t think. “We’re written in the stars, but she won’t see it. I’ll make her see it.”
Scarlett redirects her attention back to me, as if she’s as drawn to me as I am to her. Mesmerized. Hypnotized. “You want to be king of the school, huh?” “You’re the queen; it’s my natural place.”
Our mouths come together with a rush of heat and promise, like the first page of a fairy tale. There’s a story here, one that I intend to follow all the way through to the epilogue.
Sex shouldn’t only be about kinks and oddities, it should be about connection and intimacy. There should be laughter; there should be smiles.
She’s my dark galaxy, drawing me in, an infinite and powerful goddess to lay worship to.
It’s crawling inside of me, that contamination, slithering down my throat and consuming me. Its name? Scarlett Force.
Given the choice, if someone has to go, you know that I’d only ever pick … me. See, here’s the thing. I was willing to give up my dreams to save Lemon. I fall too hard, too fast, and I love far too fierce. Not just boys, but my girls (and Basti), too. I’m such a sucker for love and loyalty.
