Filthy Punk
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Saint Bryde
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Neve Bellemere couldnāt care less about bad boy Dominic, even if they used to be friends. Heās everything sheās been warned againstā¦and everything she secretly desires.
Dominic Harrods is over Neve. Heād love nothing more than to pull her down from the prissy, Iām-too-good-for-you perch sheās been sitting on. And he could think of a few ways to do that . . .
A chance encounterāand a surprising revelationāwould never change how they feel about one another. Or would it?
Chapter 1
NEVE
It started with a gaze, thick-lashed and dark. This wasnāt the look of love, only possession.
āYou filthy little brat.ā His tone was like a warm caress, sending tingles down the nape of my neck. āHow long have you been waiting for me?ā
His fingers glided deep into the wet heat between my legs. Iād wanted this forever, since the moment he first texted me. And now he could see me, flesh all red with need under the steady force of his hands. He pressed my throat back into the pillow, giving it a gentle squeeze.
I couldnāt contain my giddiness. The oxygen evaporating from my brain made me so placid, so willing for him. In the darkness of my bedroom, nothing could disturb us.
āYou smileāāa hot swirl of breath caresses my lipsāālike youāve done something naughty.ā
In a burst of light, the dream was eviscerated. My retinas burned, and with a groan, I was shoving my head under the familiar darkness of my duvet.
āSweetheart, youāre going to miss your orientation if you donāt get up.ā
Ugh, right. Cringing, I sat up, the morning sunlight settling on my motherās scrubs. She was already leaving for work? I wouldāve slept longer if I hadnāt lied to her about orientation day. Iād been attending Oakland University for three weeks now.
But it was best she didnāt know. Sheād figure out some way to embarrass me. At least lying to her held off the inevitable for a little while.
āIāve picked out your outfit. Youāll wear a blouse and a tartan skirt with stockings. It screams respectable student leader, which you will be in no time!ā Mother acted like the university didnāt have a distinct dress codeācrisp white shirts paired with pleated pants or skirtsāand pointed to where she had placed my clothing.
This ritual had been ingrained in our routine since I was a child. Mother would dictate an outfit to wear, then inspect me after I dressed, making sure my attire was appropriate. Youād think we were the fucking royal family under scrutiny.
The one time I wore a tank top outside because it was sweltering hot, she forced me to cover it with a cardigan. āThey canāt see you like this,ā sheād whispered fiercely.
It was just skin.
I complied, dressing to her satisfaction. Just as I was tugging my pantyhose the rest of the way up, my phone chimed from my bedside table, and every muscle in my body tensed, suppressing the urge to reach for it.
It was him.
The man of my dreams.
I bit my lip and looked at my mother. I didnāt want to risk her glimpsing the message, so I stood and grabbed my phone, opening and closing it just to get rid of the notification.
Zombi
Iām hungry for you.
āStupid Twitter notifications,ā I murmured, throwing my phone on the bed. āWhat time will you be home?ā
Her nose crinkled. āSix? Might be later.ā She kissed me on the cheek and ambled to the door. āHave a great orientation!ā
I smiled. āWill do, Mother.ā
I listened as she made her way down the stairs. Then I moved to the head of the stairs and listened as she made her way through the house. Her car was in the garage at the back of the house.
Living with my mother was painful, but I needed to stay under her roof until I found a stable job. And that was easier said than done. It was difficult to find a place willing to work around my class schedule at the university. Plus, my schedule made it hard to work enough hours for decent money.
I tried discussing living on campus, but for Mother, that was out of the question. First, she reminded me of the lack of privacy Iād have and the communal bathrooms, neither of which I minded. Then she tried to scare me with stories of bad roommates and potential security issues.
Ultimately, she said she refused to pay for me to live and eat in a dorm when we lived so close to campus anywayāa twenty-minute drive, I might add.
Making my way back to my room, I sagged onto the bed and waited till I heard the car. The telltale sound of the engine passed underneath the window, and in my mindās eye, I visualized the car making its way around the curve of the driveway that hid our house from street view and then turning right toward the hospital where Mother worked.
After a few silent moments, I opened my eyes. The coast was clear. With a sigh, I grabbed my phone.
Everything I had dreamed last night, Zombi had said at some point in our texts to each other. I had a few admirers on Not Safe For Work Twitter, or NSFW, and Zombi was a part of that crowd. But where it was purely transactional and shallow with others, it was different with Zombi.
Our chemistry was natural, and nothing felt forced. I could admit things about myself to him I couldnāt admit to anyone else, and Zombi lured out aspects of myself I never knew existed.
He sent, Iām hungry for you five minutes ago, meaning he was likely still online. I grinned as my fingers brushed the stocking material on my thighs. Perhaps this outfit wasnāt completely boring. There was always the potential to be creative!
I hiked my skirt up and tore at the stocking fabric on my crotch, the satisfying rip resounding throughout my room. Through my vanity mirror, I saw that Iād created a substantial opening, enough to see my baby blue cotton underwear.
I hooked my fingers to pull the fabric up tight, grinding my clit against the cotton underwear until a wet patch formed.
I took two photos. One was a close-up crotch shot, with the underwear wet and bunched, and then the normal underwear shot, except I was just wet. Some guys preferred the natural one, where I was just resting wet as if Iād been waiting for their message all night long or after a long day. I hit send.
***
Oakland University was a sprawling green campus in an odd location. Tucked in Danshurst city center, it provided a burst of nature amid the concrete, with neatly trimmed hedge gardens lining the perimeter and a canopy-covered nature park at the front of campus.
It was a heritage site preserved for its legacy and elegance, and it was exactly the type of place a young woman of breeding would continue her education, which is why my mother demanded I go.
After my literature class, I stepped out of the main entrance archway and spotted a few acquaintances waving at me from a picnic blanket down on the green.
Weād bonded over several classes we shared, but we didnāt take all the same ones. Being an art student, Iād already finished classes, which ended at midday. The three of them, who had classes well into the afternoon, whined into their coffees.
One of them looked past me, her eyes narrowing as she caught on something in the distance. I followed her gaze to the end of the lawn, where it extended into a pathway lined by trees before the bustling city. A group of boys was making their way onto the premises as if they, too, were students.
She jumped up and wiped off her pants. āTime to go.ā
It took me a moment to realize the other girls had stood up as well and were gathering their things.
My eyes darted from one to the next, and I laughed in confusion. āYouāre leaving? Why?ā
āThose punks are ruining the view. You coming?ā
I waved my hand in the air. āIām finished with classes today, remember?ā My smile widened as they grimaced. āIāll see you guys later.ā Waving goodbye, I moved closer to the boys while trying not to appear too obvious. They stopped under a nearby tree, close enough to where I stood for me to notice their distinct styles and piercings, and I studied each one, oblivious to everything else.
From my vantage point, they couldnāt see me, so I opened my sketchbook to a blank page and sketched out a rough outline.
As far as appearances go, they were rough and messy. One wore a lip ring and eyeliner. Another wore earrings that stretched the lobes. Some had buzz cuts, others had long, braided hair.
As I drank in their characteristics, an image formed on my sketch page of a dark and enticing hybrid of them, with a few of these features combined.
Were people like this really dangerous?
By the time Iād arrived home, ready for a shower, Iād given the sketch the beginnings of a body. There was a corded neck with a deeply hollowed Adamās apple and broad shoulders. I couldnāt get the image out of my head, and it filled me with an ache I wasnāt willing to explore.
Iām hungry for you.
The water ran hot from the showerhead and felt wonderful against my skin, but I wouldnāt allow my eyes to wander from the bathroom door. It was only five p.m. Mother wouldnāt be home yet, but I was still worried sheād suddenly appear.
I pictured the drawn boy in piercings, how the corded muscles in his neck would stand out like cables, exposed and pulsing in ecstasy.
My breath came out in short pants, steaming up the glass door as I imagined a scenario with just the two of us. I propped my foot up on the lip of the tub, my knee against the tiled wall. Reaching for the right angle, I rubbed myself relentlessly, heat building in my core.
Iād smother him in kisses. On his lips, the hollow of his throat, hisā
A knock sounded from the other side of the door. āSweetie, I didnāt see you come home,ā came the muffled voice of my mother. āWhen did you get home?ā
I jolted my hand away and dropped my foot. āFour,ā I called out, reining in my panting. I brushed my wet hair off of my face, trying to cool the heat from my cheeks. āI thought you were still at work?ā
āI finished early.ā
Sighing, I shut off the shower, stepped out, and grabbed a dry towel. She was going to give me an overbearing guilt talk now.
āYou almost made me think someone broke in.ā This was Motherās way to get me to apologize, even though Iād done nothing wrong. I wasnāt going to have it tonight.
āWow, a burglar breaking in for a shower? Who wouldāve thought?ā She must have heard the snideness in my tone because it was suddenly dead silent on the other side of the door. āMother?ā
Whether my comment shocked or offended her, I couldnāt tell, but she pressed on to another subject. āYes, um, Iām just letting you know weāre having dinner with the Harrods tonight.ā
I hadnāt heard that name in years.
