Her head leans back against the bark of the tree as Jimin holds her thigh tighter, adding another finger in. Her eyes roll back, betraying her body. "Stop it, Jimin," she says, her voice strained.
A smirk tugs on his face. "Say the safe word, Clara...
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🅰/🅽
The start might be boring, but trust me, it gets a lot better. This book has my first female dominating smut... so.. just trust me ok.
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ᴄʟᴀʀᴀ |
The doors swing open, and just like that, the hallway is mine. Heads turn, whispers start, and I can almost hear the collective intake of breath as I stride through. My heels announce my presence with each sharp click against the floor, commanding attention like a queen entering her court. Eyes follow me, but I don't need to acknowledge them—I've got better things to do than worry about people who can only stare.
People love to talk, especially when they don't know the half of it. "Spoiled brat," they say, just because I'm the sole heir to my family's empire. But hey, people always judge by what they see, don't they? They see the designer clothes, the perfect hair, the confidence, and they think they've got me all figured out. What they don't see is the fire it took to earn every ounce of respect I demand.
The girls can keep glaring—they're just bitter their boyfriends can't help but drool when I walk by. Not my fault I set the standard too high for them to reach. With every step, I remind them who's at the top. As I reach the classroom door, I toss my hair over my shoulder and let a smirk play on my lips. It's not arrogance if you can back it up, and I've never had a problem proving I can.
With one last glance down the hallway, I push the door open and step inside. Let them talk. Let them envy. I'm just here to remind them exactly who they're dealing with. I walk into the classroom, my eyes immediately scanning for Scarlett. She's easy to spot, sitting right at the front, already absorbed in her work like the Class President she is. I slip into the seat behind her, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. Scarlett's the only girl here who doesn't eye me with envy or whisper behind my back. She's different, and that's why she's my best friend.
It wasn't always like this, though. I met Scarlett when I first returned from America. The girls in school were all over me, practically drooling over my expensive backpack and materials, desperate to befriend the "rich girl." But Scarlett? She was different. I still remember that day—she was just this quiet girl, lost in a book, completely uninterested in the chaos around her.
I thought I'd have a little fun with her, test the waters. So, I walked over, ready to show her who was in charge. But when she finally looked up, instead of the fear or awe I expected, she gave me the biggest, most genuine smile I'd ever seen. It threw me off balance. I mean, who does that? She didn't care about my money, my clothes, or the fact that every other girl wanted to be me. She was just... herself.
That's when I thought, "Wow, she's an angel." I didn't know it then, but that was the start of something real. Scarlett didn't just resist my attempts to bully her—she melted them away with kindness and that unshakeable calm. We've been inseparable ever since.
