Never His Girl: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Pointe Book 2)
Never His Girl: Chapter 30

WEST

Dane and Sterling told me not to hover, so this is me not hovering—watching from a booth in the corner, like the stalker Southside’s turned me into. Yes, she agreed to be here with me tonight, but my brothers’ advice was to remember I don’t own her. Let her breathe, have space.

She’s been on the dance floor for maybe five minutes and, already, guys are moving in on her sexy ass. She’s only dancing with Joss, not paying anyone else attention, but I see them all. Thinking of how they’ll make their move, thinking she’ll spend the rest of tonight naked, tangled in their sheets.

Over my dead fucking body.

I exhale a sharp breath and lean deeper into the seat, catching Dane’s wide grin when I do.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just observing.”

I glance over at him. “Am I a fucking sideshow exhibit to you?”

He’s laughing now. “Sort of. It’s just interesting to see how you behave in a relationship. You know, this being your first and all.”

I wince, and the sick feeling that follows has nothing to do with Southside, but has everything to do with my aversion to that word.

Relationship.

Dane’s damn right when he says I’ve never been in one. May as well say I’m allergic to labels and everything that comes along with them. The obligation. The expectation. And eventually, the disappointment.

Fuck that shit.

“You honestly gonna deny Southside hasn’t successfully trapped your ass?” he jokes. “Look at you, dude! You look like someone just stole your favorite toy. Used to be a time you knew how to party, have a good time. Now, you’re keeping an eye on your girl, making sure guys like the old you don’t push up on her.”

“The old me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap.

He doesn’t even flinch at my harsh tone. Instead, he laughs again before saying two words that ring inside my head long after he says them. “You’ve changed.”

Bullshit, I have.

He seems to notice the look of denial on my face.

“If I’m wrong, tell me how long that girl in the corner’s been eyeing you?” he asks.

I turn when he says that, only now noticing who he’s talking about. She’s on a stool at the corner of the bar with a group of friends and, yep, she’s eyeing me. I know the look. It’s the one girls give when they think they can handle me, only to learn they’re usually dead-ass-wrong about that.

Now that she thinks she has my attention, she smiles a little, pushing the length of about a hundred tiny braids off her bare shoulders. Her dark skin glistens beneath beams of blue and pink light shining down from the rafters, and it isn’t lost on me that she’s beautiful. All that’s covering her tits is a halter top, and her midriff is somewhat exposed, down to where a pair of high-waisted jeans cover the rest. She’s curvy in all the right ways, but Dane’s right. I hadn’t even noticed her before he pointed her out.

“The old you would’ve been all over that, had her pinned to a bathroom stall, and been back on the prowl by now. But the new you?” he says, shaking his head again. “Guy’s not even interested.”

Fuck. He’s right. About all of it.

My gaze shifts back to Southside, seeing one of the asshats who watched her from afar has gotten ballsy, dancing close, but not quite grinding on her. Not yet at least.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

Dane gives a casual shrug. “Okay. If you say so.”

Bass rumbles and Southside’s hitting every note of it, moving those damn perfect hips with impeccable timing. She’s a wet dream in skinny jeans and red heels, but there’s more to her than that.

She’s more loyal than anyone I’ve ever met—which is more than apparent with how she cares for her sister. She’s smart and resourceful, wise beyond her years. And she’s got an amazing heart. Must, if she forgave an asshole like me.

Doesn’t take long to realize I couldn’t care less about what Dane thinks or if he’s expecting me to do exactly what I’m about to do. I’m done watching other guys think they have a chance with Southside, knowing that, if she’s saying yes to anyone tonight, it’ll be me.

I’m out of the booth, knowing Dane’s talking shit in his head, but who gives a fuck. I know what I want, and all I can think about right now is Southside. My plan to not come on strong is basically out the window at this point and I’m okay with that. She knows I don’t have a “medium” setting. I’m either off or on, and she’s the only one who can handle me as I am. It’s one of the things that drives me fucking crazy about her.

I spot Parker pushing through the crowd, making her way over as I reach for my phone.

“West, hold up!”

Either her voice has gotten more annoying, or my tolerance for it has just dwindled down to nothing.

“We need to talk,” she insists, grabbing my bicep when she finally catches up.

I’m half-listening, but mostly focused on the text I’m shooting to Southside as I take slow steps toward the exit. I hit send then roll my eyes as my gaze settles on Parker next.

I don’t even speak. Because, if it isn’t already obvious, I’m incredibly sick of her ass.

“There’s something you should know,” she starts. “I think we need to step outside, though.”

“Seriously, Parker?”

Girl simply doesn’t give up. Shaking my head, I’m not even surprised she’s trying this shit again.

“It’s not like that,” she insists.

Glancing around, I get the feeling she’s trying to see who’s paying attention to this awkward interaction.

“I started to call,” she goes on, “but this isn’t really the kind of thing you say over the phone. I—”

“Parker just… shut the hell up!” I snap, loud enough that I’m sure she’s heard me over the music. When a few people close by flash a look our way, I’m guessing they heard, too.

My tone’s wounded her. I see it as a cocktail of emotion swims in her eyes. It doesn’t move me, though. Not even a little.

“You are such a dick,” she shoots back with a scoff, like I didn’t already know that.

“Then maybe you should leave me the fuck alone,” I reason. “Unless this is another attempt at getting Pandora to post more false shit about us, hoping it’ll get under Southside’s skin.”

It’s then, when my accusation has Parker looking like a deer caught in headlights, I’m positive I called that shit right. Calling me over last week wasn’t just about trying to get me back. It was about hurting Southside.

Then, her plan had worked, but I wouldn’t let her screw things up tonight.

“Move… the fuck… on,” are my final words, and they leave my mouth with a hard edge that I hope cuts Parker deep. What we had was never meant to go anywhere, and the sooner she gets that through her damn head, the better off we’ll both be.

Defeated and more than aware that I’m not playing these fucking games anymore, she backs off. Then, as soon as she disappears in the crowd, my eyes are back on Southside, making sure she received my message. When she smiles down at her screen, and then scans the building for me, I know she’s read it.

West: My room. Ten minutes.

Blue

I knock a few times, feeling my heart beat so fast it nearly pulverizes my ribs.

“It’s open.”

That deep voice on the other side of the door only excites me more. I turn the knob and let myself in, joining West in the vast suite. A tall silhouette stands in the darkness, right in front of a broad window, arms folded. Even without seeing his eyes I’m certain they’re set in my direction.

The door closes behind me and I’m fixated on him. Light from the city glows through the backdrop of a sheer curtain, outlining his perfection as he waits. Even with the lights off, I see him. In all his glory. It’s enough that heat and tension build between my legs… as my gaze drifts lower, to what he’s packing between his.

I know I’ve said it before, but damn.

Naked, he truly is fucking magnificent.

“You’re late,” he rasps. “I said ten minutes.”

The corner of my mouth quirks with a smile, hearing his voice dripping with need.

Instead of explaining that I stopped at my room first to shed my coat and clutch, my only response is to not keep him waiting longer than he already has. I take hold of the button to my jeans and undo it, then lower the zipper before easing the fabric down my hips. He’s still, standing there like a statue as he watches. Next, I pull my shirt off and toss it to the floor.

He walks over slowly and I’m breathing harder, feeling his heat move over my skin before we even touch, but then we do and I’m on fire. The tips of his fingers drift across the lace edge of my bra to my cleavage, then he cranes his neck lower, placing a kiss there, followed by another before lowering both my straps.

I haven’t forgotten how things got destroyed the last time I let him in like this. The memory of it lives with me, despite having forgiven him. Only, it no longer consumes me, no longer acts as a barrier between us.

West has shown me the man behind the mask. The one who bears emotional scars just like the rest of us. Mistakes were made and he admits that, but he’s also taken huge strides to set things right. Sure, I could hold a grudge against him forever, but I’d be hurting myself. Staying away from him, denying what we both want, what we both need, would be tragic.

His broken soul cries out to mine, and if I’m not crazy, I believe we might be the key to one another becoming whole.

His long strides walk me backwards, until my back presses to the wall. I feel his stare on me even through the darkness, as I breathe his air in deep, like I can’t live without it.

“Tell me what you want,” he says breathlessly, making me dizzy as possibilities swim through my head.

“I… don’t know. I—”

“Tell me… what you fucking… want,” he says sternly this time, cutting in when my response isn’t direct enough.

His deeply spoken words have my chest heaving against his. All because, within those syllables, I feel his need for me. It’s more than real. It’s tangible, a living, breathing thing that exists in this room with us.

“If you can’t tell me… show me,” he suggests.

I stare up at his silhouette, unable to make out a single feature, but his beauty is burned into memory. I’ve heard his request and know he means it.

Whatever I want…

I lift my hands to his smooth, firm shoulders, and as I press them down, he lowers until his knees touch the carpet. He moves the waistband of my underwear and places a kiss at the base of my stomach, then I feel the fabric being dragged down my hips. I step out of them and another kiss touches my thigh, before he lifts it to rest on his shoulder. From there, everything becomes hazy.

The sound of me panting and struggling for air is our only soundtrack. Hearing my response to the torrent of pleasure he’s brought on has West holding me tighter. His tongue plunges inside me and, desperate for him to keep doing exactly that, I grab a handful of his dark, unruly hair while my other palm slides up the wall above me.

Where the hell did he learn how to do this?

Sucking. Licking. Sucking.

Now, I’m fucking dizzy.

Shit.

He can’t possibly be human. There’s no way and I’m sure of it, because this magic of his is the reason I’ve just bitten into my own lip. Hard enough that a hint of blood awakens my tastebuds. Still, I hardly even notice the pain.

There isn’t even an ounce of gentleness when he grips my ass next, putting an end to my squirming. The motion is rough and unapologetic. Just like him. The whimper that leaves me is damn-near primal, telling of how wild he makes me feel inside. How free.

I’m almost there, ready to come when he replaces that sweet spot again so easily, but he pulls away and I peer down at him.

“You have to wait,” he rasps.

Half a second later, he stands and my gaze rises with him. I’m lifted into the air and tighten my legs around his naked waist, then he lowers us both onto the bed, covering me with his weight.

I’m fighting impatience when he reaches toward the nightstand. Especially when he leans away to slip on a condom. But at the feel of him driving deep into me, I’m certain the wait was worth it. His hands press into the mattress beside me and I turn toward his wrist, gripping it, holding my lips to his skin just because I need to feel him everywhere. He cranes his mouth toward the exposed side of my neck and kisses me there.

“So fucking tight,” he rasps against my ear.

And you’re fucking huge.

So. Fucking. Huge.

His firm hips brush the insides of my thighs, as he works them in slow, powerful circles, grinding into me, sending him deeper still. I’m completely out of my head, hallucinating and shit.

“West,” I whine, still clutching his wrist to my mouth.

He’s in my ear again, and I feel the heat of his breath before he whispers a familiar command. “Come for me, Southside.”

How the fuck does he do that? Make my body submit to his authority?

Whatever this power is he has over me, all it takes is me hearing those words and, not even ten seconds later, I’m calling out to him again. And not in the quiet whisper I let out before. This time, anyone walking past this suite definitely knows his damn name.

There are no actual words that leave my mouth after that, only nondistinctive murmuring as the drawn-out climax has my soul reaching out for him. It’s almost as if he feels it, that a part of me just became his. Because when he stares down on me, I’m certain that exchange just went both ways.

His hips maintain their steady, controlled rhythm, but there’s growing tension in his forearm and back as I grip both.

He leans toward my ear again and presses his lips to it. “Fuck.”

A deep groan leaves him next and my eyes roll into my head. I get drunk off the sound of the heavy breaths puffing from his lips, lasting well after he comes, and his body goes still on top of me. Neither of us move with any kind of urgency. There’s a sense of wanting the moment to last as long as it possibly can.

The side of my neck warms when he kisses me there. The long, sensual kind that makes a girl fall. Only, it’s too late for me. I fell for him a long time ago.

“Stay with me,” he says against my skin.

It isn’t until I nod, agreeing to his request that the kissing starts again. I feel his once-racing heart beginning to slow where it beats against his chest and mine. Like we’re one in the same.

Eventually, he’s content to put a small measure of space between us and rolls to the side of me, but already this feels different than the first time. Then, as soon as we’d finished, I remember feeling the moment when that switch of his flipped. But laying here now, with his hand lazily resting on my stomach, and my forehead pressed to his chest, I’m not worried about the aftermath.

“Mind if I use your shower?” I peer up to ask.

“Long as you have your ass back here in twenty minutes or less,” he teases.

Smiling, I kiss him once when I just can’t help it. “Be back in ten.”