The Wild Mustang & The Dancing Fairy: A Gorgeous Villain Prequel Novella by Saffron Kent (ereader for textbooks .txt) 📗

“What?” he bites out.

If I tell him then there’s no going back. Then there’s no two ways about what I feel for him.

He’ll know.

Reed Roman Jackson, the Wild Mustang, the soccer god, the heartbreaker of Bardstown High will know that my good girl, not-so-freshman, just turned sixteen-year-old heart beats for him; my birthday was last week and he bought me cupcakes and new knitting needles and so much yarn.

Before I can make up my mind either way, my lips seal my fate as I blurt out, “You told me the other day, in the storage closet that… that you’re not so easy to take care of…”

Despite my determination in telling him, my courage falters when I actually say the words.

And I have to lower my eyes.

I have to fist his t-shirt and bite my lip as a flurry of butterflies swoops around in my stomach.

“What about it?”

His gravelly voice makes me clench my stomach. “You said that if I took care of you, I’d have bruised knees, so I…”

God, why can’t I just say it?

I should be able to say it.

I started this, didn’t I?

“You what?” he asks in a strangled whisper.

Finally I look up and all my fear and shyness just melt away.

He appears as he does when he watches me dance. All on edge and intense and excited. “So I get down on my knees. At night.”

“On your knees.”

“Yes.” My knees tingle from all the abuse of the past days. “We’ve got hardwood floors at home. So I get down and I… I stay there.”

His lips part then.

Only slightly, but I know it’s because he’s started to breathe heavily. His entire body is moving with it.

“For how long?” he asks gruffly.

“Long time. Until I...” I press my knees into his legs. “Until they start to feel all numb. And sore.”

They do start to feel sore, after being like that for what feels like minutes and hours and days.

They do start to feel bruised up after what feels like worshipping.

Like I am praying to God.

Only my god is a devil.

A villain with wolf eyes and vampire skin.

And I feel his villainous heart skipping a beat under my fist. “You made your knees sore. For me.”

“Yes,” I whisper, pressing myself into him. “But that’s not all. I practice something else too.”

“What?”

“You said that you could… you could take care of me twice. But then I wouldn’t let you. So I practice so that I will.”

“How?”

My thighs clench together. “I touch myself.”

“Where?”

“I… in my… you know where.”

At last, he leans his face toward me, all bruised up and swollen in places, making him look like a criminal.

A thug I should run away from. But I press myself closer to.

“Pussy,” he chokes out. “You touch your pussy.”

I’m doused by a flood of heat at the dirty word and I nod. “Yes.”

But he won’t let me go so easily.

By telling him this, I’ve unleashed something in him. A beast, a predator, and so all I can do is revel in the fact that he finally chooses to touch me.

He not only touches me, he crushes me to him.

With his hands on my waist, his fingers digging into my soft flesh, he bends down even more, darkening the world around us.

“Say it,” he growls.

“I…”

His fingers on my body grow insistent. “Say ‘I touch my pussy.’”

My own fingers dig in his chest when I obey him. “I touch my p-pussy.”

“‘And I make myself come.’”

“And I make myself come.”

“For Roman.”

“For my Roman.”

“How many times?”

I have to gather my breaths first before I can tell him. “T-two, sometimes three.”

His eyes shoot fire. “Three.”

“Yes.”

“Because you were practicing.”

My ballerina feet can’t stay still so I go up on my tiptoes. “Yes. I wanted to be… ready.”

“Ready, yeah,” he whispers as well. “Because you know that if I get anywhere near that thing, it’s game over, don’t you? You know that I’d lick her and suck on her and fingerfuck her like I’ve never fucked a pussy before.”

“Y-yes.”

“And I’d eat her out, bang her with my tongue until she gets all sore and hurt like your knees. You know that, don’t you?”

I want to say that he shouldn’t curse so much.

That he shouldn’t use such dirty language.

But then I’d be lying because I want him to.

I want him to say these things, I want him to talk to me like that, like he’s the filthiest guy in the world and I’m the most innocent girl who’s never heard these things before, the girl that he wants to corrupt.

“Yes, I know,” I tell him.

“Yeah, you know that I’d become what they call me. That if I catch even a whiff of her scent, I’ll go wild. I’ll become an animal and I’ll snap my teeth and I’ll snarl. And nothing would calm me down except her, except the sight of her, the taste of her. You know I’ll become a villain for your fairy pussy.”

My hands creep up his chest and my fingers cradle his bruised jaw, my thumbs rubbing his stubble. “A gorgeous villain.”

He presses his fingers on my waist, almost picking me up off the ground. “So you were getting her ready. Like the good girl you are. You were warming her up for me.”

I wind my arms around his neck. “Uh-huh.”

“In your bedroom.”

“At night,” I continue.

“And what were your brothers doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“Where?”

“Down the hall.” Something violent passes through his features so I explain, “But it’s okay. Because I’m quiet. I bite on my pillow. When I come.”

His jaw moves back and forth before he somehow open his mouth and grunts, “So they don’t know.”

“No.”

“They don’t know that every night their innocent little sister touches her innocent little pussy for me. For the guy they hate.”

“I don’t want them to hate you,” I confess.

He ignores my words and continues, “They don’t know that she gets down on her knees for him. She rubs her pussy until she drips and then she bites her pillow to keep quiet. So no one ever knows what