Stolen franklin west uni.., p.1
Stolen (Franklin West University), page 1
STOLEN
FRANKLIN WEST UNIVERSITY
ADDISON ARROWDELL
© 2022 Addison Arrowdell
ISBN: 978-180-068-408-9
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, stored in a database and/or published in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Map Artwork © 2022, The Illustrated Page Book Design
Cover Design © 2022, Addison Arrowdell
CONTENTS
Before you read . . .
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Sasha
Alex
Epilogue
Keep reading for the next instalment of Franklin West University . . .
1. Abigail
Also by Addison Arrowdell
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Addison Arrowdell
BEFORE YOU READ . . .
WARNING: This book contains offensive language, graphic sexual content, and recounts of abuse.
If you’re unsure whether you will be comfortable reading this book, please reach out to me via Instagram or Facebook.
SASHA
A layer of nerves flutters beneath my bold laugh and confident strut as I stride down the path with my best friends, Jaime and Abigail, at my side. Behind us, the giggles and hushed whispers of the rest of our sorority filter through the chilly September night air. I wrap my arms around myself, as there’s no point wearing a coat when it’s only a two-minute walk from our sorority house to the Wolf Den.
The first party of the year always brings a sense of nervous excitement, but this year it’s different. This year is my final year. I exhale heavily, squashing the urge to tug down the hem of my tight, black dress, and trying to keep the smile pasted on my dark red lips. Sometimes, I can’t believe I made it this far. Sometimes, the exhaustion of living a lie threatens to drag me down so deep, I won’t ever be able to claw myself back up. Not tonight, though. Tonight, we celebrate the beginning of our last year together. Even if it’s in a location I’d rather not ever set foot in.
As the sprawling gray stone building that houses Alpha Psi Delta looms out of the evening shadow, the towering evergreens of the forest blocking all light behind it, my heart kicks up a notch. Low music is already spilling out into the night and a few guys are hanging around outside, smoking.
“What’s up, bed bugs?” one of them hollers, followed by howls and laughter from the others.
Jaime snorts at my left, tossing her long golden brown locks over her shoulder. Even in the dark, her brown skin glimmers in a way that tells me she’s stolen my gold-tinted body moisturizer again. “Idiots.”
“That’s for sure,” I agree.
On my right, Abigail’s fingers lift to touch the golden bee pin she’s wearing on her midnight blue body-con dress, the jeweled embellishments catching in the moonlight. I know if I glanced over my shoulder, I’d see a swarm of shimmering bees, each one of my sisters wearing the exclusive pin as we march toward our adversaries.
There’s only one sorority and one fraternity at Franklin West University, both as old as the campus itself, which is like a hundred and thirty something years. The founding members clearly didn’t have much foresight, however, when they named the sorority, Beta Epsilon Delta. Which meant the frat house filled with self-righteous, arrogant assholes—otherwise known as Alpha Psi Delta—were quick to make the link to the initials spelling BED. Which apparently means we’re a bunch of whores. Or bed bugs. Just fantastic.
Sophomore year, Abigail, Jaime, and I decided to change that. The Greek letters look different, more like ‘BEA’. So, we thought up the whole ‘bee’ thing. No one was under any illusion that it was anything other than a desperate attempt to distance ourselves from decades of derogatory comments, but it was worth a shot. The president at the time even took up our idea to call the sorority house, ‘The Hive’. The whole thing is adorable, and we all have pale pink t-shirts with a little fluffy-butt bumblebee on them, but even after two years, it’s not been enough to shake the taunting from the frat boys. They, on the other hand, call themselves the Wolfpack. Which is stupid because our two sports teams, lacrosse and swimming, are the Wolves. Way to be original, boys.
“I hate them,” Abigail mutters as we climb the wide stone steps.
Jaime laughs, the sound rich and rolling. “You’ve had sex with at least four of them, so you can’t hate them that much.”
“Come on, ladies.” I press my lips together, hiding a smirk as I push open the door. “No point prolonging the inevitable.”
The circular foyer matches ours in the Hive, the two buildings nearly identical, but that’s where the similarities end. The Den is decorated in blacks and browns, with leather sofas and heavy dark-wood furniture that force masculinity down your throat until you gag. A minimalistic, tarnished gold chandelier hangs above us, but other than that the lights are out. From what I can see, the living rooms on either side of the entrance halls are lit by enormous white pillar candles. Can anyone say, ‘fire hazard’?
“Come on, boys!” Jaime shouts out, clapping her hands three times and making me jump. “Let’s do this thing!”
My nerves triple. Every second and third Saturday of September, the fraternity and sorority throw a party to kick off the school year. The boys always go first. It’s an age-old tradition and there are formalities that need to be observed. I’ve been through this twice before, but this is my first time leading things as president.
When I was voted in at the end of last year, I’d been so caught up in the idea of the accolade, I hadn’t properly considered what it would entail. Between classes for my double major and my two jobs, I already have very little time to breathe, but now I have managerial and pastoral duties on top of everything else. Luckily, Beta Epsilon Delta is a small sorority, with just fifteen actives and only five spaces open for freshman pledges. It’s only the second week of the semester and I’ve already met with the pledges and interviewed them. Of course, it’s really about how much money they come from. There’s a lot of old money at Franklin West and most Bees are daughters of alums.
I don’t mean to sound jaded. It’s just the truth. Franklin West is a small, excessively exclusive, private college nestled in the Oregon woods. There are a handful of scholarship places, but the majority of students here are rich beyond most people’s wildest dreams.
Tossing my dark, auburn waves over my shoulder, I fold my arms and wait for the Wolves to appear. It’s Franklin West tradition that we formally invite and greet each other to these opening parties, but frankly, I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon than feign politeness with Alex Rainer. Just the name sends a wave of disgust through my gut.
I hear them before I see them, the sounds of laughter and lewd jokes about who’s getting laid tonight, and my fingers tighten on my arms. They spill through the doors, and I raise my eyebrows as I look them over. They’ve dressed to impress, every single one of them wearing a dark suit and a crisp white shirt, the top three buttons undone. As they fill the space, the scent of expensive cologne dominates the room. They might as well cock their legs and start pissing on things.
At the center of the group, is the man himself. The president of the Psi-chos. Sorry. Alpha Psi Delta. Alex comes from old money, but his father is a billionaire in his own right. Something to do with property and acquisitions. Whenever someone starts talking about him, I tend to tune out. Either way, his family is such a big deal to Franklin West, the library is named after his great-grandfather.
“Welcome to the Wolf Den,” he says, sweeping his arms out to the side. Stepping closer, he pushes a hand through his thick, brown hair, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “It is my honor as president of Alpha Psi Delta to receive you at our inaugural event of the year.”
It’s unfair really. Not only is he rich, he’s fucking gorgeous. Like, unfairly so. I swear the universe must have been high when it made such a jerk as tempting as him. He’s got the jaw of a Greek god, and even though I’ve only seen him shirtless a handful of times in the summers, I know he’s got the body of one, too. Like I said. Unfair.
The wording of the welcome isn’t ours. It’s just one of the many traditions passed down over the last hundred years. I drop my hand to my hip and turn up the brightness on my smile as Alex awaits the scripted response.
“Thank you,” I say, my jaw beginning to ache from my forced smile. “We are humbled and blessed to be in your presence and look forwa
“That’s it,” Alex says, grinning as he addresses everyone gathered. “Let’s get this party started!”
Around him, the Wolves start howling, which looks bizarre when they’re all dressed like they’re going to a wedding, but then they push the doors open to the living rooms, someone turns the music up, and the atmosphere changes.
I watch as the Bees filter through from behind me, wondering if I could turn around and leave without anyone noticing. Classes have barely started and I already have a mountain of work waiting for me in my room.
Abigail squeezes my arm. “Let’s go get a drink.”
“Enjoy the party, ladies,” Alex says, giving me a lopsided smile that I’m sure would have half the girls, and more than a few guys, dropping their underwear instantly.
“Oh, we will,” Jaimie says, striding away without a backwards glance.
The three of us agree when it comes to Alex Rainer, and I turn to follow.
“Don’t let us hold you up,” I say, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from adding to your collection.”
I mentally kick myself as I realize, I don’t sound derisive, I sound jealous. It seems Alex agrees, as he steps forward and looks me up and down, his gaze lingering on my legs, before running his tongue over his bottom lip.
“Are you offering?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I scoff, and before I can say anything else stupid, I hurry after Jaime and Abigail, hopefully in the direction of shots.
Now that the Wolfpack has formally welcomed us, the party is officially underway and thumping bass shakes the walls, laughter punctuating the beat as people start to let go and enjoy themselves.
“That went well,” Jaime says, handing me a drink.
I have no idea what’s in it, but I gulp it down gratefully. “Douchebag.”
“Yep,” she agrees at the same time as Abigail.
Not only is Alex Rainer gorgeous, intelligent, and rich, he’s also disgusting. Okay, so not everyone would agree with that, but it’s true. Fine. Perhaps sex addict is more applicable. He’ll fuck anything that stands still long enough, and if that wasn’t enough, he keeps the girls’ underwear as a trophy, stringing it out of his window each year. By June, the perverse bunting trails from his window at the top of the Alpha Psi Delta house down to the ground. I noticed earlier this week, he’s started his new one for his final year and there are three pairs on it already. Stupid naïve freshmen. You’d think Dean Mason would have something to say about it but seeing as Alex’s father is one of Franklin West’s biggest benefactors, he could probably swing naked from the flagpole and get a handshake for it.
Jaime hands me another concoction, and I sip it thoughtfully. Perhaps that should be one of the make-or-break questions for joining the Hive: ‘Have you slept with Alex Rainer?’. The worst part is, the girls that find themselves tangled in his sheets, give rave reviews. Their only complaint is he doesn’t visit the same destination twice. They know exactly what they’re letting themselves in for, though. Alex Rainer doesn’t pretend to be anything that he’s not. But that doesn’t stop a constant flow of females from throwing themselves at him, certain that they’ll be the one to sate him and hold his attention.
“You’ll get wrinkles if you frown that hard,” Abigail says, bumping me with her hip. “What’s up? You’re supposed to be having fun.”
“I am having fun.”
Jaime snorts. “You need to tell your face that.”
“Come on,” Abigail says, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the center of the room, where the sofas and chairs have been pushed to the walls. “Let’s dance.”
Jaime pushes her way through the throng towards where a sophomore I can’t remember the name of is on the decks. I watch as Jaime taps on his shoulder, pushing her ample cleavage in his face as she talks into his ear. Nodding, he grins and adjusts his headphones before turning back to the decks.
A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I realize, not only is this my last year at Franklin West, but it’s also my last year with some of the most incredible women I’ve ever met. Jaime and Abigail have been such a big part of the last three years and I can’t quite wrap my head around not seeing them every day once we leave this place.
By the time Jaime’s sashayed her way back to us, her skin-tight silver dress leaving nothing to the imagination, the pulse of a dirty R&B beat breaks through the music. Beside me, Abigail squeals, throwing her arms in the air, and laughter tears from my chest, a lightness settling over me as my two friends start grinding on either side of me. It’s going to be a great year; I can feel it.
The future can wait. Tonight, I’m going to have fun.
ALEX
Sasha Darryn is sex on legs. It’s a shame she’s such a stuck-up bitch. Don’t get me wrong, the string of panties hanging from my bedroom window might paint me as a misogynistic asshole, but the truth is, the b-word is not one I use lightly. But Sasha? Yeah. She’s a bitch.
I finish chugging my beer and knock back the whiskey chaser Sol shoves at me, my eyes never leaving the cluster of women dancing and grinding to the music. Okay. Not a cluster of women. One woman. Sasha fucking Darryn. She’s always been attractive, in a girl next door kind of way, but tonight, she looks hot enough to burn. Dancing with her hands above her head, it causes her tight, black dress to rise sinfully high on her long, creamy legs. I tear my gaze away, but like a magnet, it’s pulled to the way her dark red hair slides over her shoulders, her eyes closed and her mouth open as she throws back her head and laughs.
My eyes zero in on her red lips, and I imagine gripping her chin in my hand and smearing the lipstick across her cheek with my thumb. She’s never worn lipstick that color before, I’m sure of it. She’s not usually that bold, favoring blush matte colors instead. Not that I’ve noticed. That red, though . . . I imagine it around the base of my cock, and swallow a groan as said appendage perks up at the thought. Is it hot in here? I shrug off my charcoal gray Brioni suit jacket and hang it carefully on the back of a wingback chair.
“Who have you got your eye on tonight?” Sol asks, handing me another beer.
I survey the crowd of eager women, my eyes glancing over the ones I’ve already experienced. The freshman pledges are here, and I eye them curiously.
“Twins,” I say, pointing toward two brown-haired girls chatting with their heads together.
Sol raises his eyebrows, his pale blue eyes glinting with challenge. “You want to divide and conquer, or you want both?”
My gaze flits back to a pair of red lips, but I don’t let it linger. “Neither. Just pointing them out. I’m not sure if I’m in the mood tonight.”
“You okay?” Sol reaches out and places the back of his hand against my forehead and I swat it away.
“Fuck off.”
I feel eyes on me, and as I lift my beer to my lips, I do a sweep of the room. There. A blonde girl is watching me, intent clear on her face. She’s pretty. Big blue eyes, pouty lips, and wavy ash-blonde hair. Her dark blue dress is skintight, barely covering her pert little ass. I can’t remember her name, but I’m pretty sure she’s a sophomore. What I am sure about is what she wants.
The women at Franklin West know exactly what they’re going to get from me. I don’t hide it. If they want to experience an orgasm that will make them come like they’ve never come before, and likely won’t again, then I’m game. I’ll probably keep their underwear, and they definitely won’t be staying the night, but I never promise anything else, never even hint at it. Even so, they all try. They see me as a challenge. They’ll be the one to stay over. They’ll be the one I invite back into my bed again.
