Page 4 of Red Flag Bull

She’s been growing more and more reckless and wild. Like she’s on a mission to cause the kind of mayhem that would drive parents crazy. Sadly, from what I can tell, hers don’t care to notice, and every day she grows bolder in her attempts to draw their attention.

The escalation is hard to witness, but I can’t look away.

Once she started letting the filthy little rich boys take advantage of her, I knew I’d have to step in and end it. She’s constantly on her knees, taking more cock than any girl her age should. If those any of those punks have a condom, she gives him a ticket to ride. Then she cries in secret up at the falls, once they’ve had their fun and left her behind like she’s worthless.

I know she hates what she’s doing, but that doesn’t stop her.

Word is getting around, and she has no end of suitors. Sometimes, fights break out over who’ll get to use her next, and if the smile on her face is anything to go by, she likes when that happens. She’s desperate to feel wanted, that much is obvious.

If she keeps it up, she’s going to get herself hurt, and I’m sure she likes the idea of that, too. Her behavior is getting dangerous, and it’s a classic cry for help, from where I’m sitting, but nobody is coming to save her. She’ll get herself in serious trouble sooner or later.

She needs someone to teach her a lesson and scare her straight before it gets that far. And since I’m the only one paying her any mind, I feel that responsibility heavy on my shoulders, so when the opportunity comes, I seize it.

No doubt she thinks she’s alone on the building site, because she snuck over the locked gate at midnight, but she’ll soon learn otherwise.

I wait until she’s busy reading the labels on the paint cans with her flashlight, and then I grab her from behind, clamp her arms to her body, and cover her mouth with a firm seal, so she can’t scream.

“You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, Princess,” I whisper in her ear. “This is a one-thief town, and I’ve got dibs.”

She struggles and squirms, and I sicken myself with how much I enjoy it. I press her to the nearest wall and make sure she can feel how hard she’s making my cock. I slot myself against the soft valley of her ass, press her chest and hips to the wall more firmly, and give a hum of approval when she still tries to escape my grasp. “Keep fighting, baby girl. I like it.”

She goes still.

“Are you scared, Amanda Warren?”

She stiffens further when I call her by name.

“Yes, I know who you are.” I kiss her just below her ear. “Anyone in town with a penis knows who you are, Mandi. You’re the girl who lets those horny little shits shove their dirty cocks inside you all day long. You know who I am, and you think I want to do it too? Is that why you’re scared?”

Her heart is racing. The rush of her pulse makes my lips tingle when I press them to her neck. “Lucky for you, I don’t fuck teenage sluts with no self-worth.” I ease my grip by the tiniest fraction. “And I’m feeling charitable, so I’ll step in front of your runaway-train bullshit and keep you from going off the rails.”

I release her slowly and turn her to face me, but I keep her cornered so she can’t run. “What are you doing here?”

She stares up at me, wide eyed and speechless.

“I need an answer, Princess. Why are you breaking into private property, when you should be tucked up in bed, sleeping off all that fucking cock you took today?” I place my hand on the wall at her back and lean over her with every intention to intimidate.

Her eyebrows dip. “How…?”

“How do I know?” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re playing your naughty games in my neck of the woods, sweetheart. You think I can’t hear your fake orgasms ringing through the forest? I hear your fucking noise and hunt you down, so I can watch your pretty little rich-girl cunt take a pounding from those spoiled assholes, like some twisted reality-TV drama of the sick and pompous. You people come here for a season, but this is my town, and I know everything that happens here.” I tilt my head. “Almost everything. Tell me why.”

“Why I fuck them?” she asks, squinting at me.

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” I breathe with a laugh. “You’re not fucking them. They’re fucking you. And I know why you’re letting it happen. I’m more curious about what you’re doing here tonight, rummaging through these fucking paint cans. Enlighten me.”

“I… I saw them through the fence, this morning. I was checking what colors there are,” she says, glancing at the cans. “I need something bright.”

“For what?”

She tugs her eyebrows into a V and looks at me as if I’m unintelligent. “To paint with,” she says, her tone slow and patronizing.

I grab her throat and push her against the wall. “I’m not one of your stupid fuck-boys, Princess. I won’t allow attention-deprived little brats to talk to me with anything less than respect. We both know I could snap this dainty little neck and disappear before anyone bothered to look for you. Best you don’t intentionally piss me off when I’m asking why the rich girl needs to steal paint.”

In the dim light, she searches my face with sweet, round, hazel eyes, and I give her nothing to read there but pure control.

She wets her lips, flutters her lashes, and pulls the old lost-puppy face, but if she thinks that’ll make me do anything she wants, she’s shit out of luck.

“I’m waiting,” I growl. “Do I need to guess? Is it more of your spoiled brat bullshit? Mommy and Stepdaddy are too busy with the little one to give you what you need? Why do you want paint? Mommy likes things clean and perfect, so I doubt she ever bought you paint in your life, which means the odds that you’re an artist are pretty slim. More likely you need it for acting out — painting naughty words on walls and cars around town, to get her to notice you. Tell me what you’re planning to paint with these supplies, angry girl. I get enough grief for being the town low-life, without copping more suspicion borne from whatever crap you decide to fucking vandalize.”

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