Chelsea’s eyes light up like she just won the damn lottery. She’s been obsessed with Raf’s dick since the first time he let her play with it freshman year, the two of them embroiled in some weird, toxicthingwhere they’re not actually together, but sometimes act like they are. Dumb, since they’re both constantly fucking around on one another.
Can’t say I mind the arrangement, because Chels offers me blowjobs whenever Raf pisses her off. She’s annoying as fuck, but I can tolerate her mouth when it’s stuffed full of my cock,and since Raf never kisses her, he doesn’t give two shits whose jizz she swallows.Sharing is caring.
The three blondes make their way over with Chelsea in the lead as always, asserting her dominance over the others. Chelsea Carson’s father is the CEO of the Carson publishing empire and an alum of Corvus College– a past King. That status grants her certain privileges, though not near as many as my friends and I have as the reigning triad.Nobody here is above the Kings.
“Hey babe,” Chelsea greets as she approaches, coming up behind Raf and draping her arms over his shoulders. She leans in to kiss his cheek and he bristles under her affection, the muscle in his tightly-set jaw feathering.
He shrugs her arms away and she quickly slides onto the bench beside him, trying to appear unfazed by the brush-off.
Pathetic.
“Get the word out that we’re throwing a party at the boat house tonight,” Raf tells her. “All the usuals are invited.”
We claimed the old boat house by the lake for ourselves last year after we took the oath. Gideon made a hefty donation to fund its renovation, transforming the dilapidated old building into a dope party spot that we’ve been exploiting ever since. Prior Kings threw parties in the penthouse apartment of Sutton Hall, but Raf doesn’t like anyone in his space, so an alternative venue was necessary when we took the mantle.
Chelsea beams a smile his way, her interest piqued. “Ooh, what’s the occasion?”
He flicks her a bored glance. “Do we need an excuse to party?”
“You guys don’t do anything without a reason,” Stella points out, slinging a leg over the bench and sinking down beside her brother.
I never notice how scarily alike she and Wes look until they’re right next to each other like this. They’ve both got thesame tanned skin, blonde hair, and gray eyes– though where Wes’ features are sharp, Stella’s are softer; more delicate and feminine. Truth be told, she’s a fucking knockout, but there’s no way I could have sex with her and not see her brother in those eyes.
Pity.
Blair moves to slide in on the bench next to me, but I hip check her as soon as her ass hits the seat, sending her tumbling to the floor.
“Seat’s taken,” I mutter.
She glares up at me from the ground, her lips twisted in a scowl. “Dick.”
I cup my hand around my ear, leaning over. “What was that, you want my dick?” I ask loudly. My lips pull into a grin as I nod to my lap in invitation. “Alright, c’mon back up here babe, maybe I’ll let you bounce on it for a little while, see if you can actually get me off this time.”
Her mouth gapes open, eyes glistening with fresh tears as she pushes up to stand. Her lower lip quivers as she brushes off her expensive jeans, then pivots around and scampers off like the scared little mouse she is.
Women are so fucking predictable.
“Ford,” Stella admonishes, the stern tone of her voice conveying her disapproval.
“What?” I ask innocently.
She shakes her head. “That wasn’t nice.”
“You’re right, Stell. I’ve been abadboy.” I lean in, gliding my tongue over my upper teeth. “Care to punish me?” I ask, waggling my brows.
She rolls her eyes, pushing up from the bench and starting after her friend.
Again, so damnpredictable. I’m bored out of my skull with these fucking college girls.
“See you tonight?” Chelsea asks Raf, shooting up from her seat beside him.
He nods absently, suddenly finding the food on his plate much more interesting than her. He doesn’t even lift his gaze as she goes, but she’s so used to his indifference by now that she doesn’t make a fuss, heels clipping against the floor as she crosses the Bistro to catch up to her friends.
“I’ll make some calls to get everything set up for tonight,” Wes offers, typically the one who takes the reins when it comes to wrangling these types of events together. Not that it takes a whole lot of effort on his part. There are plenty of students who would do anything to score an invite to one of our parties, including putting in all the grunt work so we don’t have to lift a finger.
Wes is the most personable of the three of us, and the only one who can stand dealing with the plebs. He already has his phone in his hand as he rises to stand, slinging his backpack over a shoulder. “I’ve gotta get to class,” he mutters absently as he starts typing a text message.
“Don’t forget your other job, Romeo,” I coo, blowing a kiss at him.
