All Chapters of The QB’s Nerdy Addiction : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

I am, to put it mildly, not okay. Why? I’ll tell you why. Right now, I’m power-walking ahead of Trey along the winding dirt trails of the forest, trapped inside the absolute humiliation of a bright yellow duck onesie. To make matters infinitely worse, the ridiculous orange flipper slippers on my feet produce an annoyingly loud squeak-squish against the dirt and fallen leaves with every step I take. Squeak. Squish. Squeak. Squish. Trey’s been pouring out these soft, maddening little chuckles from behind me ever since I finally gave in and put the stupid thing on. We are heading back to The Vault so we can properly plan and set up to film our video. Honestly, though, I have zero clue what our concept is going to be yet. All I know is that it has to be something otherworldly if we want to beat Cherry and Shawn’s video hands down. Another major reason why I’m currently losing my mind?! A few minutes ago, I figured it was high time I let Jade know my whereabouts. Knowing my bestie, s

"AHHHHH! Oh God, save me! Please, please, please don't let me die in a yellow duck onesie!" I scream at the top of my lungs, squeezing my lids shut so tight I'm pretty sure I'm permanently damaging my optic nerves, while I hook my fingers into a death grip around Trey’s waist. The second we mounted Becky, Trey all but twisted the throttle and sent us hurtling forward at a speed that honestly feels illegal. If I thought Gigi was a death machine before, I was profoundly, stupidly wrong, and I need to issue a formal, tearful apology to that motorcycle right now. Because Becky? Becky takes the concept of a death machine and launches it straight into the stratosphere. I don't even know what exact model or make the bike is–mostly because I'm not a motorcycle person, but also because my brain is currently evacuating my skull–but I can tell it's bigger and meaner than Gigi. It's painted in an intimidating color scheme of black and red, with black taking up the majority of the terrifying c

"Are you... are you actually real?!" "What in the world are you wearing?!" "Is the duck onesie and flipper slippers like... a new trend?!" "Do we need to get them as well to show our allegiance to #TeamTreylar?!" I can't even get a single word out because the entire un-fainted portion of the Kappa Omega coven is swarming me like a flock of manic, eyeliner-clad crows. Hands are touching my oversized fleece sleeves, poking at my flipper slippers, and reaching for my hair. The moment the collective banshee-screaming died down, Michelle bolted down the flight of stairs, yanked me over the threshold by my wrist, and dragged me deep into the foyer while her coven bombarded me with an avalanche of breathless questions. It is fast becoming so intense and suffocating that I actually feel my lungs locking up. "Okay. That's fucking enough,” comes Trey’s lethal tone, and it’s enough to make every girl snap her mouth shut. Stepping up behind me, he uses his bulky frame to shield me fr

"H-here it is!" the goth girl squeaks nervously, pointing toward an open bedroom door at the far end of the second-floor hallway. Before either of us can say another word, she spins on her heel and flees back toward the stairs like a bat out of hell. Once I’m certain her rapid footsteps has faded down the corridor, I resume my struggling. "Trey, put me down this instant! I demand it!" I yell over his shoulder, aggressively using one hand to anchor my glasses to my face so it doesn’t go flying off and shatter on the floorboards. Unsurprisingly, Trey ignores my furious demands. He pushes open the door, kicks it shut behind us with his boot, and reaches back to click the lock. Walking a few paces inside, he dumps me onto the center of a plush mattress with an unceremonious plop. Scrambling backward against the headboard, I breathlessly adjust my tiny pleated skirt as Trey looms over the foot of the bed, proceeding to devour every inch of my Harley Quinn outfit with those hungry or

Despite every single self-preservation instinct screaming at me to keep my eyes closed, I somehow manage to roll my head back in Trey’s direction. He’s still staring right at me. And not only that, he’s maintaining the exact same aggressive pace of his hand on his shaft. "You’re doing so good, sweetheart… but I need you to go a little faster. May I please fuck your throat?" His heavy voice comes through again, sending a shudder racking through my body. So much so that I become very much aware of how badly my ladybits are weeping under the sheets. Duck my life. When I told Michelle after my shower that I didn't have any nightwear, she and the rest of the Kappa Omega girls had practically drowned me in options from their collective wardrobes. I had ultimately settled on a baggy black t-shirt that fell straight to my mid-thighs, with the words GOTHS RULE printed across the chest in faded white letters. Why had I chosen that specific shirt, you ask? To further punish Trey, of course