Bound to The Billionaire Alpha

Chapter 2 The Party

Sheila’s POV

The music is already shaking the walls when I step into the frat house.

Lights flash across sweaty bodies and the air is thick with beer, smoke, and something darker.

I hate how small I feel in here, like I am drowning in noise and perfume and laughter that does not belong to me.

I grip the red cup someone shoved into my hand, though I have not even tasted it.

I tell myself to blend in, to disappear into the crowd, but the moment I look up, I see him.

Brendan.

He is leaning against the wall as he owns it, a drink in his hand, eyes trained only on me.

That storm-grey stare finds me in seconds, like there is no one else in the room.

My stomach twists because I know what that look means.

He is about to ruin me again.

I turn like I am going to walk away, but his voice cuts through the music.

“Scholarship girl.”

Two words.

That is all it takes to freeze me.

I should ignore him.

I should keep walking.

Instead, I stop, my heart racing, heat crawling up my neck.

I hate that name, hate how he spits it like it is both an insult and something he secretly worships.

I face him and try to hold my chin high. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

The smirk that curves his lips makes my knees weak.

He sets his cup down and walks toward me slowly, weaving through the crowd like a predator.

People part for him, eyes following, like they know better than to stand in his way.

My chest rises and falls too fast, and when he stops in front of me, I can smell the whiskey on his breath.

“You look like you are pretending,” he murmurs. “Pretending you belong here. Pretending you are not still the same little girl from high school who wanted to claw my eyes out every time I touched her.”

I swallow hard. “You mean the same girl you used to bully?”

He leans closer, his mouth brushing my ear. “Bullying is just another word for wanting. You just never understood.”

His words make me shiver even as anger spikes in my veins.

I open my mouth to tell him to fu**k off, but he does not give me the chance.

His hand grips my jaw, tilting my head back, and then his mouth crashes onto mine.

Gasps ripple through the people around us.

I hear them, I feel them staring, but all I can focus on is the rough, consuming press of his lips.

He tastes like whiskey and heat and danger.

I push against his chest, but he does not budge.

His tongue forces its way into my mouth, claiming, demanding, owning.

And the worst part is the way my body responds, traitorous and hungry, melting into him even as my mind screams no.

When he finally pulls back, my lips are swollen, my breath ragged.

He studies me with that smirk that drives me insane.

“See,” he says. “I told you you would be impressed.”

I am trembling, furious and embarrassed, but before I can speak, his hand slides down to my waist.

He drags me through the crowd like I weigh nothing, leading me toward the back of the house.

My protests are lost in the music.

Nobody stops him.

Nobody even tries.

He pushes open a door and shoves me inside a dark room.

The bass thuds through the walls, but in here it is just him and me and the pounding of my heart.

“Brendan,” I snap, breathless. “You can’t just—”

I do not finish.

He pins me against the wall, his body pressed hard to mine, his hand sliding under my shirt.

“You think I waited all these years just to look at you,” he growls. “No. I am going to fu**cking take what I want now.”

My eyes widen as his lips find my neck, sucking hard enough to bruise.

I gasp, my hands pushing at him, but his grip is unrelenting.

His fingers trail lower, finding the waistband of my jeans, slipping beneath.

Heat surges through me as he touches me where I am already wet, and I hate that he knows it.

He chuckles darkly. “So responsive. Just like I knew you would be.”

I bite my lip, trying not to make a sound, but my body betrays me with every shudder and gasp.

His mouth covers mine again, swallowing my moans as his fingers slide inside me, working me open.

I arch against him, torn between fury and desperate need.

He whispers against my lips, “Say my name.”

I shake my head, refusing, but he curls his fingers just right and a cry escapes me before I can stop it.

“Brendan,” I whimper, hating myself, hating him, and yet drowning in the pleasure he is forcing on me.

He smirks against my skin. “That’s it. That’s all I want to hear.”

He pulls his hand out and I barely have time to catch my breath before he is unzipping his jeans.

Panic and desire twist together inside me.

“Wait,” I whisper, but he silences me with another brutal kiss.

His hand lifts my thigh, hooking it around his waist, and in one rough thrust he is inside me.

I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as pain and ecstasy explode through me.

He groans low in my ear. “Tight. Just like I imagined.”

He pounds into me hard, relentless, each thrust making me see stars.

My body clenches around him, traitorous and desperate, pulling him deeper.

He grips my hips, grinding against me, owning every inch.

“You are mine,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “You always were. High school. Here. Forever.”

I whimper, my head falling back against the wall as my release builds.

I try to fight it, try to deny him the satisfaction, but my body betrays me again.

I shudder violently as I c*m around him, waves of heat tearing through me.

He curses, thrusting harder, chasing his own release.

Moments later, he groans my name, his body tensing as he spills inside me.

We are both gasping, sweaty, clinging to each other in the dark.

I push weakly at his chest, my legs trembling, shame flooding me.

He only smirks, brushing his lips against my ear.

“This is only the beginning,” he whispers. “You are mine now, scholarship girl. No running.”

I close my eyes, my body still throbbing, my heart breaking with the truth of it.

Because deep down, I know he is right