Home > No Good (Dayton #2)

No Good (Dayton #2)
Author: Stevie J.Cole







“Wet for me, baby girl?”

The neon light flashed through the curtained windows. And it provided just enough glow that I could make out Hot Guy’s face as he maneuvered me toward the back of the van. All dark hair and perfect jawline, a smirk that promised to make all my problems disappear—of which I had a list a mile long. One look from him had been nothing short of a siren call to a lonely girl needing to feel wanted for just a few moments. So here I was. In a van. In a bar parking lot, letting his filthy words replay through my head while he grabbed my hips and kissed my throat. Wet for me, baby girl…

“You say that to all the girls?” I asked, then felt him smirk against my skin while he worked the strap of my dress from my shoulder.

“Only the ones I wanna fuck…”

No matter how hot his words had me, I was not actually going to screw him. Nope—although, his lips were extremely persuasive.

My legs bumped the back seat. A moment of doubt crept in as he lowered me to the bench. Though I knew I was probably one in a long line of girls he’d seduced and brought out to this van, I couldn’t quite find the will to care. In my defense, he might have been the hottest guy I’d ever seen, so if I were ever going to have a one-off moment of weakness, he was totally worthy. His hand roamed over my thigh, then beneath my skirt, his pure electric touch tracing me through my underwear. No guy had ever had this effect on me. And I wanted more.

“Damn,” he mumbled against my throat before pulling my panties to the side. “You’re soaked.”

His finger slipped inside me, crooking. The flood of sensation that fired through me took any resolve I had to not bang him and threw it right out the curtained van window.

“I’m not fucking you,” I said in a rush, and I wasn’t sure if that declaration was meant for him or me.

“Not gonna fuck me, huh?” His finger worked deeper.

Arrogant prick. He absolutely thought this was a done deal. Not like I was giving him much reason to think otherwise, but still.

“So, you came out to the van to play a game of ‘get to know you?’ Because I’d say, this is probably a damn good way to get to know someone.” He slipped another finger inside. Pressing. Pushing. Driving me crazy. “Wouldn’t you?” His mouth was on my stomach now, working lower and lower.

I was so screwed. “I…”

“Or did you come out here to ask me my name and favorite color?

I hesitated for a minute, trying to form words. “Name,” I finally choked out, fully aware I probably should have asked that before now. “What’s your name?”

“Bellamy.” He spread my legs, then settled between them, locking eyes with me as he nipped at the inside of my thigh. “What’s yours?”

I sure as hell wasn’t giving him my name, and the first name that sprung to mind was my best friend’s. “Genevieve.” Okay. That was bad...

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” I lied, fighting a moan as his lips worked higher. Okay, I was done talking, or should I say, lying. “Any more questions?”

“Yeah.” His gaze locked with mine, and he removed his fingers. “How good do you taste?” Then slipped them between his lips on a groan. And that one dirty move was enough to absolutely, one hundred percent, seal my fate.

Within seconds, my underwear had been thrown somewhere onto the floorboard and his warm tongue was on me, my hands in his hair, my hips grinding against his face as a wave of bliss crashed over me so hard, I could barely draw in a breath. It wasn’t just an orgasm; it was an awakening, one that had my thighs clamped around his head, my body trembling, and my heart slamming against my ribs.

“So soon, baby girl?” He sat up, smirking as he reached for his belt.

Someone banged the outside of the van. “Hey, fucker!” a guy shouted. “We gotta problem…Psycho bitch is on the hunt. I repeat, little eagle. Psycho bitch is on the hunt. Over.”

Bellamy groaned, still fiddling with his belt. “Tell her to fuck off!”

A girl was looking for him—one that his friend was keeping a lookout for, while he fooled around with another girl in his van? Jesus Christ, I was an idiot. Sitting up, I tugged my skirt back into place, then rummaged through the crumpled papers and music magazines littering the floorboard in search of my underwear.

Another bang sounded over the van door. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Bellamy lowered his zipper like an asshole who expected me to still touch his dick. “I heard you!”

“Wow.” Forget the underwear. With a shake of my head, I opened the van door and came face to face with the guitarist from the band that had played earlier. His fist was lifted, ready to pound the side of the vehicle again.

“Damn, Bellamy,” he said, giving me a quick once over. “This one’s hot.”

On an annoyed huff, I brushed past him then threw a middle finger over my shoulder, the steady click of my heels bouncing off the beat-up cars surrounding me as I stormed across the parking lot. On my list of recent bad decisions, this had quickly climbed to the top.

I rounded the corner of the bar, stopping at my car when the high-pitched shriek of Bellamy’s name echoed through the night. I glanced back just in time to catch a curvy blonde chuck something at him. Too bad she missed, I thought as I sank behind the wheel and cranked the engine. My headlights shined over the silhouettes in the back lot when I peeled off in a squeal of tires. At least, I’d never have to see that guy again. It wasn’t that I’d expected anything from a quick hookup—I wasn’t stupid, but was it too much to ask that a guy not make me that skank he cheats on his girlfriend with?

I maneuvered down the narrow roads, speeding over potholes while the events of the last few weeks played out in my head.

Kicked out of boarding school—sent to this shithole town to live with a father who was too busy with his business trips to even be bothered by my existence. The only communication I’d had with him since I'd arrived had been a series of emails—the latest of which came through earlier tonight—but I had been too busy getting suckered by Bellamy’s smile to read it.

When I pulled into the empty driveway, my stomach sank at the thought of walking into the dark, empty monstrosity and being all alone once again. That was the very thing that had driven me to that bar tonight and right into Bellamy’s eager arms. But I still didn’t feel any better, so I stalled, braving the email my father had sent as my car idled on the drive.



Attached is your new school syllabus. You have orientation on Monday at p.m.. I’ve already spoken to Eddie, and he’s changed your shift.

William Morgan

CEO Darth Enterprises


Never mind that I’d received the same sign off as his secretary...or that he’d been oh so accommodating to have changed my schedule at the shitty drive-thru he’d secured me a job at. I clicked on the attachment and opened the syllabus with Dayton High typed in bold at the top. I blinked. No, this was a mistake. I was supposed to go to Barrington Prep. Not the public school. I'd been through the neighboring town of Dayton. Once. Last Easter, when I was here on break, a road had been closed and the diversion led straight through that shit hole. The place was awful. Street after street of run-down motels and pawn shops. Graffitied, boarded-up houses. The ones that weren’t boarded up looked like they needed to be condemned. And the high school? Olivia, one of the few girls here I knew, said Dayton was basically a prep school for prison. What the hell was my dad thinking? As the sense of horror crept over me, I imagined how smug my father would be if he could see me now, and I knew then that it definitely wasn’t a mistake. This was another one of his punishments.

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