Page 21 of Brutal Prince

She tries another slap, this time with her left hand. I was so busy gloating, I barely see it coming in time. I twist, and she falls forward, thrown off-balance when she doesn’t connect.

Behind me, the guys burst out laughing. Addison’s eyes are so wide, they look about to pop out of her head. But I don’t think any of this is funny.

I grab the girl’s wrists, pinning them together, and haul her against me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growl down to her.

“Me?” she barks out in disbelief. Her tits brush against my stomach as she draws one furious breath after the other. “You’re the one that thinks you can just go around raping people!”

There’s a scandalized gasp from everyone within earshot.

I shove her away from me so hard that she lands on her ass and I spot a flash of white underwear before she tugs her skirt straight. But even sitting on her ass in the grass, obviously overpowered and already surrounded by a decent crowd, fury blazes in her eyes.

“The fuck you on about?” I say, hardly recognizing my tight voice.

She scrambles up, fends off Addison when the girl tries to drag her away, and comes back for more. “Could you even stand looking at yourself in the mirror this morning?” she yells. Now there’s an outright challenge in her eyes.

“The fuck?” I scoff, glancing over my shoulder at the guys. But they’re all staring at me like they’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When I turn back to the girl, she’s less than a foot away from me again.

“Let me cut you on the other side,” she says through her teeth. “Then that face of yours will be all symmetrical again.”

This time, when she goes to slap me, I duck under her arm, lunge against her, and force her to the ground. She lands on her back in the grass beside the school steps, and I immediately straddle her.

“Look, bitch,” I spit, my cut aching how I’m clenching my teeth. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’d better get one thing straight.”

“Briar!” Marcus calls out, but I ignore him.

She squirms furiously under me, but I catch her hands and pin them to her chest before she can try and scratch out my eyes or, judging from experience, try for an uppercut. Fuck, she’s getting me hard, wriggling around like that between my legs.

“Get off me!” she yells.

I grind her wrist bones together so hard, her face goes white.

“Briar!” Dylan this time.

But she doesn’t scream out in pain, or stop struggling.

“No one, no one, talks shit about me. Got it?”

“We both know what you tried to do,” she whispers through a grimace, finally relaxing under me.

A whistle blows.

I’d been so fixated on her, I hadn’t even seen Mr. Denard, the French teacher, walking up to us. As soon as I spot him, I let out a low growl and push up to a stand.

The girl scrambles up a second later, cheeks flushed and the whites of her eyes too bright in comparison. She points at me with a shaking hand. “Sir, this guy—”

“Are you the new one?” Denard asks, arching a single eyebrow at her. His lip twitches as if the mere sight of her disgusts him. He’s dressed in black suit pants, a cream dress shirt, and a black suit vest.

“That she is,” I say, stepping up to Denard and holding out my hand for him to shake.

Denard turns his attention to me, and his expression softens a little, but not enough. Thank fuck it was him who came out here to investigate.

I let out a low chuckle, grab his hand, and give it a good pump. “Elle est tombée dans les pommes. But don’t worry, Sir, I have this under control.”

“Wh-what?” the girl demands. She hasn’t even bothered dusting herself off, or readjusting her clothes. Right now, it does look like I tried to get lucky with her.

Denard glances at her, and this time his lips pull into a full sneer. “Perhaps if you ate more, child, then you wouldn’t be swooning all the time.”

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