5: Mini Skirts

I woke up Monday morning with that delicious ache still throbbing between my thighs, a filthy reminder of what Edgar and Ethan had done to me at their family dinner. My body betrayed me even in sleep nipples tight under my silk sheets, pussy slick just from dreaming about their long fingers stretching me open while their parents chatted oblivious to what was going on a few feet away.

God, they were so fucking good at it. Cold, like they owned every gasp I made. I came twice that night once under the dining table like a desperate little slut, and again in the upstairs where they pinned me against the wall and worked me until my knees buckled.

But they didn’t want me well not really, not the way I needed them to. They’d smirked, wiped their fingers on my dress like I was nothing, and sent me home dripping and ruined. It pissed me off. I’m Ava fucking Montgomery. Queen of Greenwich Academy. Every guy at school would kill to touch me, and these rich, twisted Caldwells twins act like I’m just another Tuesday night conquest.

Whatever. I’ll make them obsessed. They’re back for good now, starting at Greenwich today. I’ll have them eating out of my hand and my cunt by the end of the week.

I stretched lazily, ignoring the dread pooling in my stomach. School meant facing Tanya Brawn, that scholarship trash my parents kept gushing about. Her family and her schooling is being sponsored by the Caldwells, she's practically living next door on Maple Street like she belonged here.

Pathetic. I’d crush her like the bug she was if she even looked at my boys.

Shower first. I took my sweet time, letting the hot water cascade over my tight body, soaping up my perky tits and shaved pussy until I was humming with need. I imagined Ethan’s tongue there instead, Edgar’s hand fisting my hair while they used me like their personal toy. Fuck. I came hard against my fingers, biting my lip so the maids wouldn’t hear.

Dressed to destroy: a Y2K pink top with fluffy little accents that hugged my waist and made my cleavage pop, paired with a white mini skirt so short it barely covered my ass when I bent over. No panties today easy access if the twins decided to play. I slipped on my tallest designer heels, tossed a battery powered fan, two thick notebooks, and my full makeup kit into my Chanel school bag, then checked myself in the mirror. Perfect. Blonde hair in soft waves, lips glossy and fuckable, eyes lined sharp enough to cut glass. I looked like money, sex, and trouble.

My heels clacked loudly down the grand staircase. Every head in the foyer turned.

James, my brother, nearly dropped his phone. “Whoa. Is this how you dress to school?”

I rolled my eyes and flipped my hair. “Duh.”

I strutted past him toward the kitchen where Mom and Dad were having their usual power breakfast. James rushed after me like the overprotective loser he was.

“Mom, say something! Look what your daughter is wearing to school!”

Mom barely glanced up from her latte, perfectly Botoxed face serene. “I see nothing wrong.”

“Me neither,” Dad added, not even looking up from his tablet.

I smirked, turning to James with a sweet, venomous smile. “You get it now, dickhead? I’m not a baby anymore. Things change.”

James opened his mouth to protest, face red, but thought better of it. Smart boy. He shut up but clearly fuming.

“Mom, can I take the other car?” I pointed through the window at the sleek red Maybach gleaming in the driveway. “And can I take Lucas with me?”

“Of course, darling,” Mom said, waving a manicured hand. “Have a fabulous day at school. The Caldwells’ boys will be there try to be nice.”

Nice? I’d be whatever they wanted me to be. Preferably on my knees.

Lucas was already waiting by the Maybach, crisp uniform, polite nod. “Miss Montgomery.”

I slid into the buttery leather backseat, crossing my legs so my skirt rode up. “Greenwich Academy, Lucas. And don’t dawdle. I have important people to ruin-I mean, greet.”

The drive was short our estates were only two walkways apart from the Caldwells’ massive compound, but I spent it touching up my lipstick and fantasizing. Edgar and Ethan in those crisp academy uniforms, tall, dark-haired, and dangerous. Their psychopathic little stares that made my stomach flip. They didn’t know I’d seen glimpses of what they really were. I didn’t care. I wanted the danger. I wanted them to break me.

As we pulled up to Greenwich Academy’s elite gates, I spotted them immediately leaning against a black Lamborghini, identical, untouchable, scanning the courtyard like kings. My heart raced.

That was until I saw her. Tanya Brawn aka damsel my ass.

She was standing awkwardly near the scholarship entrance in her plain clothes, looking all innocent and beautiful like some fucking fairytale peasant. Sponsored by my boys’ family. Disgusting.

I stepped out of the Maybach, skirt fluttering, heels clicking on the pavement. Heads turned. Whispers started. Good. The queen had arrived.

I strutted straight toward the twins, ignoring everyone else, a predatory smile on my lips. They were going to notice me today. They were going to want me.

Even if I had to force their hands. Or their cocks.

hmm zesty..