Prick - Sabrina Paige

For my husband. If I weren't married to you, how in the world would I be able to write a book called Prick? You are always inspirational.

For Emma, always. Hopefully this book will help defray some of the costs of your therapy as an adult.

For the authors and fans who have become my online family. I can't possibly thank you enough for your support...and for all the laughter along the way. I can't imagine that anyone has a more fun job than this. In particular, I owe Joanna Blake, Cora Brent, Jordan Marie, and Jess Peterson my undying thanks and gratitude for the copious amounts of nagging, feedback and ideas about the book, and for talking me down when I am freaking out.

Many thanks to Sabrina's Sirens for their tireless efforts and to the other fans who tell their friends about my books, and even hand-hold me as I navigate social media.

For my readers. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it.

That fucking prick.

A smirk spreads across his lips, the movement excruciatingly slow, almost as if he's not the least bit surprised to see me. He looks so satisfied with himself that it’s all I can do not to walk up to him and slap that stupid smug smile right off his face.

Instead, I stand there, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest I swear everyone in the room must be able to hear it. I'm frozen, paralyzed, staring at him like I'm some kind of idiot.

Caulter Sterling.

The devil incarnate.

A devil with the bluest damn eyes I've ever seen, right here in my father's house.

When Caulter directs those blue eyes toward me, I just know he can see right through me. I'm naked under his gaze, helpless to prevent the heat from rising to my cheeks as his eyes linger on me.

The only thing I can think about is the last time I saw him - the heat of his breath on my neck that made me practically writhe with the anticipation of him being inside me, the way he bit the edge of my lip when he kissed me that caused me to cry out, unsure if I was feeling pleasure or pain. When the tip of his cock pressed against my entrance, I winced and he gave me an odd look. “Shit, Princess, tell me you’ve done this before.”

I'd forced a laugh, tried to sound more casual than I felt. That was all it was -- casual. Hit it and quit it was Caulter's mantra. Unlike Caulter, I had exactly zero experience with that. I had been Little Miss Perfect my whole life -- 4.0 GPA, class president, valedictorian, the whole nine yards. The daughter of Senator Harrison. The Senator Harrison. There were certain expectations of me. Let's just say that no one -- at least no one normal -- was clamoring to date the daughter of the retired Marine Corps General. The same man who was expected to make a bid for President in the next few years.

And no one was trying to get in my pants. Except for Caulter Sterling, the bad boy who didn't give a damn about rules or expectations.

The week before graduation, I had made my decision. Enough was enough. I was eighteen, an adult. I was headed to Harvard in precisely ninety days, and I sure as hell wasn't arriving there with my virginity intact. I texted the one boy I knew would do the deed -- even if he was the only boy I truly couldn't stand.

Caulter moved slightly, the head of his cock pressed