Dont Play Play Bosku Novels & Stories

Played? This is bad.

I didn’t come to Westbridge High to make enemies. I came to survive. New school. New city. Just me and my best friend, Joe, trying not to get crushed by a place ruled by rich athletes and their unspoken rules. That plan lasted exactly one day. Because Joe got targeted. And I made the mistake of stepping in. Now, I’m caught between the two most dangerous boys at Westbridge: Jay Vale the untouchable hockey captain who looks at everyone like they don’t matter. Liam Knox the former best friend who used to stand beside him... until a bitter confession broke them apart. Jay says he wants to help me. He offers to tutor me, to protect me. But the way he watches me doesn't feel

he asked "why" I said "don't know I think so better that play boy is best than this good boy" he laughed and said "you can't bare that playboy princess you will be scared" he kissed on my cheeks I pushed him and turned away he hugged me more tightly and said "don't do that princess if you are angry just hit me but don't push me away" he is pleading me like a kid I said "no iam not angry iam just confused" he asked "confusion about what princess"

} {My monster father showed up at the mansion and the crazy bitch from last night turned out to be the girl who applied for the secretary position} {Holy shit!! Tell me you didn't chase her out} {I did!} {Fuck! You fucked up big time bro} {What?} {C'mon Cardo, this is your opportunity to see her pant, just act nice to her and then bling bling you're in} {What? you want me to act nice for some cheap girl?} {C'mon Cardo get over your cockiness, get her back to the company and try to play the cool head and when she finally falls for you can continue with your disgusting nonchalant attitude}

"I'll pick you up at three-thirty. Wear something casual-slacks and a light sweater in case you get cold and bring a camera if you have one. Today, we play at being tourists in the city." Then he kissed her. Hard and sweet. On the mouth. And made it last long enough that when he finally released her, she had to clutch the top of the car door to keep herself upright. She'd read the travel brochures and thought she knew what to expect of Baguio. Traffic congestion and noise and smog. Ancient, crumbling ruins sitting cheek by jowl with towering new apartment buildings. And overshadowing them all, but brochures didn't come close to preparing her for the real thing.

“And you expect me to believe that a woman agrees to be hit? That she wants bruises?” “Some women do.” His voice was patient, educational. “It’s called impact play. The physical sensation releases endorphins. For many submissives, it’s profoundly pleasurable. But more importantly—I don’t expect you to believe anything. I expect you to ask Vivian whether she’s happy.” Natasha’s eyes cut to Vivian. “Are you?”