Crowned Crew: Heights POV & Stories (The Heights Crew), page 1
CONTENTS
Also By E. M. Moore
Johnny's Pre-Crew Story
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Magnum’s Pre-Crew Story
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Brawler’s Pre-Crew Story
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Oscar’s Pre-Crew Story
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Mirror Scene
Store Incident Scene
Kyla’s Altercation With Waitress Scene
Private Room At Candy’s Scene
“Fuck My Girl” Scene—Johnny
“Fuck My Girl” Scene—Magnum
K Tells Johnny Jiko Has To Fuck Kyla Scene
Magnum Has Sex With Kyla To Fool K Scene
“Street Rat” Scene
Kyla Tells Johnny She Has Feelings For Four Guys Scene
Thank you
Pretty Little Dead Girl
PRETTY SECRETS Preview
Facebook Group & Newsletter
Saint Clary’s University
Spring Hill Blues
The Ballers of Rockport High
The Rockstars of Hollywood Hill Series
About the Author
CROWNED CREW
HEIGHTS POVS & STORIES
E. M. MOORE
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by E. M. Moore. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact E. M. Moore at emmoorewrites@hotmail.com.
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition January 2021
Cover by 2nd Life Designs
PA’s: Affinity Author Services (Bibiane Lybaek & Ashton Reid)
Also By E. M. Moore
Saint Clary’s University
Those Heartless Boys
This Fearless Girl
These Reckless Hearts
The Heights Crew Series
Uppercut Princess
Arm Candy Warrior
Beautiful Soldier
Knockout Queen
Crowned Crew (Heights POVs & Stories)
The Ballers of Rockport High Series
Game On
Foul Line
At the Buzzer
Rockstars of Hollywood Hill
Rock On
Spring Hill Blue Series
Free Fall
Catch Me
Ravana Clan Vampires Series
Chosen By Darkness
Into the Darkness
Falling For Darkness
Surrender To Darkness
Ravana Clan Legacy Series
A New Genesis
Tracking Fate
Cursed Gift
Veiled History
Fractured Vision
Chosen Destiny
Order of the Akasha Series
Stripped (Prequel)
Summoned By Magic
Tempted By Magic
Ravished By Magic
Indulged By Magic
Enraged By Magic
Her Alien Scouts Series
Kain Encounters
Kain Seduction
Rise of the Morphings Series
Of Blood and Twisted Roots
Safe Haven Academy Series
A Sky So Dark
A Dawn So Quiet
Chronicles of Cas Series
Reawakened
Hidden
Power
Severed
Rogue
The Adams’ Witch Series
Bound In Blood
Cursed In Love
Witchy Librarian Cozy Mystery Series
Wicked Witchcraft
One Wicked Sister
Wicked Cool
Wicked Wiccans
JOHNNY'S PRE-CREW STORY
1
I hit the ground with a thud, my cheek smashing into the tiled floor. Sticky liquid trails from my nose, moving over the curve of my lips and dripping to the tiled floor.
“When are you going to learn?”
The ire in my father’s voice is one I recognize. The thin line his lips make. The hatred in his cruel eyes. They can switch in a moment. I don’t even know which side of him I’ll see on a day-to-day basis.
He’s been like this for years.
I push off the floor to apologize because that’s what I do. I’ve pissed him off—again. The receiving end of his anger is not where his future second-in-command is supposed to be, but more often than not, I find myself here. “Dad—”
Fury crosses his face. A psychotic twinge that nearly cripples me, making my arms go weak so I slide back onto the floor. My stomach coils tightly when he eyes me up like a punching bag, but he doesn’t decide to punch this time. He tees up like I’m a soccer ball and kicks me in the ribs.
I groan, pain lances through me like a slingshot. All the breath leaves my lungs, so I gasp for air, but the pain only worsens.
Dad drops to his knees, bringing his face even with mine. “Keep this up, and I won’t even allow you into the Crew, you little fucker.” He growls one last time in my face because he can, then he gets to his feet.
He stretches out, moving his shoulders back and fixing the way his suit falls on him. Then, he runs his hands through his air, pulling it back perfectly into place while also moving his jaw back and forth as if to soothe the tension out of him. Within a minute, he’s back to looking like nothing ever happened.
“Leave me,” he orders.
I hiss in a breath as I try to get to my feet. Past experience tells me that if I don’t get the fuck out of here as soon as I can, he’ll just lose it again. I wipe my fingers over the blood on the tile, smearing the red. When I can’t get all of it, I use the hem of my shirt to remove any evidence of what just happened.
This is how it always is. We can’t let anyone else see when he loses his temper on me. They can’t see when I’m hurt. They can’t look at me like I’m the broken, little boy because if they do, it’ll reflect badly on my father. Not because he beats me, but because I need to be beaten. Mayhem will be choosing his successor, and my dad is the top prospect if I don’t screw it up for him.
My body protests as I lift myself to a standing position. I survey the ground to make sure nothing is out of place. The furniture is where it should be. The blood is all gone. When my inspection turns up nothing, I hobble to the mirror that’s tacked against the wall right into the kitchen to check my appearance.
I run my hands through my hair. I use the collar of my black polo to catch the blood dripping from my nose. I wear black a lot. It makes clean up easier. Plus, it helps that black seems to be the Crew’s signature color.
When I’m pretty much put together, I straighten as far as I can, testing the limits of my body. It hurts like a bitch, but I don’t say anything. I lift my chin in the air, place my hand on the doorknob to the basement, and pull it open. The walk to my own apartment in our family house isn’t far, which is lucky considering I need to lie the fuck down before I faint.
I put on a brave face as I take the few steps to my suite, testing my bored expression as much for the security cameras as for myself. One thing my father is good at is making us seem like we’re already important. None of the other higher-ups in the Crew have as much security as we do. On the plus side, everything that happens here is secluded. Private. Mysterious.
It needs to be that way.
I finally get on the other side of the door to my space and quickly shut it behind me. Letting out an exhale, I cringe when it gets caught in my throat, and I cough. Fuck. It hurts to breathe.
The backs of my eyes heat. Shame creeps over me. For fuck’s sake. I’m always making him hit me. If I could just fucking stop doing things that piss him off. A growl rips through me, and the pain in my ribs flare.
I hobble to the bed in my own efficiency apartment in our main house, gently lying down and staring at the ceiling. My lids flutter closed, drawn by sheer exhaustion and the need to block the world out for a little while.
Even more pronounced than the pain ripping through me, though, is the anger taking over my body.
She left me. She made him like this.
Before my mother defected from the Crew, I didn’t get hit. We were a family. Or as much as we could be one with all the responsibility hanging over my father’s head. When she lived with us, I had my own room upstairs—just down the hall from them. When she chose to leave, I lost everything.
The walls around me are bare. The sparsely decorated apartment that’s been mine for a few years barely even looks lived in. Loneliness crashes into me but I fight it back and instead, focus on something I can control. I replay the argument with Kingston Marx and analyze why I pissed him off so I can figure out how to never do it again.
For the sake of both our futures in the Crew.
I do this every time he hits me. It hasn’t worked before, but at some point, I’m going to figure out what makes him tick, and then I’m never going to displease him again.
But what if what he’s always telling me is true?
I’m not strong enough.
I’m not good enough.
I’m not…man enough.
2
The bruising on my face when I walk into Rawley Heights High the next day only makes the mystery around me grow. They stare, then look away when I peer back. They whisper to their friends. They raise their eyebrows with wide eyes. They understand who I’m being groomed to be, and they show me the respect I deserve.
To them, it doesn’t look like I got the shit beat out of me. It looks like I got in a fight, and I probably kicked the ass of the person who dared lift a hand to me.
It’s exactly the persona I need to portray.
A pair of hands sneak around my midsection. Bright red fingernails with the fourth finger painted black grip the front of my shirt. There’s only one girl in this school who would be so bold to touch me like this—without asking first, anyway.
“Hey,” her seductive voice purrs in my ear.
When I was thirteen, my father hired me an escort so I could lose my virginity. I practiced on the woman until I was skilled, until I could make her scream my name. My father listened through the walls to make sure I accomplished my task.
Power makes a great Crew leader, and sometimes, that power comes from sex. Cherry stays because she loves my dick. It’s certainly not because of how well I treat her.
Like my father says, girls are expendable.
As for me, I let her stick around because she’s exactly the type of girl who helps keep my status. She’s tough. She grew up on the Heights streets. She understands what’s important. The other girls skitter out of her way when she walks down the hall. She’s not scared to pick a fight, and she most definitely doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything, except for me.
I turn toward her. She barely glosses over the bruising on my face before smirking. It’s obvious she thinks I got into some Crew scuffle last night, and it turns her on. She’s practically vibrating with sex right now.
She likes the danger.
I smile back at her, playing the part, even though it’s all a carefully constructed wall. If she knew my father was the one who kicked my ass last night, and I didn’t even lift a hand at him in retaliation, she wouldn’t be sinking her fingers into my hips right now.
As far as everyone else knows, my father’s going to be the next leader of the Crew—and I’ll be on my way to becoming his second in command.
That’s why we keep my weaknesses a secret. It allows us to keep up the façade. One day, I’ll grow past them, and everything I’ve earned on the surface will only get better.
Cherry drags me down a short hallway and into an alcove under a set of stairs that lead to the second floor. Her eyes burn with desire as she places her hands on my chest, her gaze perusing the swollen bruises on my face.
I can’t quite figure Cherry out. She lets me get away with whatever the fuck I want. I went down on a girl at a party right in front of her once, and she laughed it off. Either she really does understand how things work in the Crew and she’s willing to be my bitch, or she really doesn’t give a shit about me, and it’s all about my cock.
She drags her gaze down my body. Unbuttoning her barely-there shorts, she pants in my direction. Through her thin top, I can tell she’s already turned on by the pebbling of her nipples.
“Have fun last night?” she asks.
The bell rings. The voices in the hallway are still there. There’s no panic to get to class in this clusterfuck of a school.
She shimmies her shorts and panties down her legs. Her cropped shirt allows all of her to be hanging out, and I take my fill.
Reaching for me, she grabs my hand and tugs me closer. “Well?”
“Crew shit,” I tell her. It’s not a lie, and if it were, I wouldn’t feel bad about it.
She moves my palm down her navel until my fingers sink between her folds. She rubs against me, working herself up until juices coat my fingers. “You know I like that,” she pants. She looks over my shoulder and smiles. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s watching. Cherry sure as fuck isn’t shy about what she wants. She bites down on her lip. “I need your dick.”
I pull away from her, caging her against the wall. Her cleavage brushes against my chest, as I’m sure was her goal when she put her flimsy shirt on this morning. “What if I don’t want to give it to you?”
She smirks like this is some game.
Her gaze flicks down, and I know she’s about to find that I’m not even turned on. I take her inattention as an opportunity to look at her. She always does the exact opposite of what I think she’s going to do. I could probably call her a whore right here, and she’d just laugh and suck my dick anyway.
There’s something wrong about that. Right?
“Johnny...” she murmurs. Right here in the dim hallway, she peels her shirt over her head. She’s not wearing a bra. Her tits are out, and my cock jerks in my pants. She knows I’m a tits guy. “Fuck me.”
I press my tongue against my teeth. Just once, I wish she would ask if I’m okay. I don’t need her to fall all over me, and I don’t want her asking real questions about how I got black and blue marks all over my face and how I’m clearly walking with a slight limp this morning because I still fucking ache, but the least she could do is ask if I’m alright. Right? That’s the decent fucking thing to do.
I close my eyes. That kind of thinking is what gets me ridiculed and mocked by my father. It’s what makes him try to set me straight with his fists.
I force my eyes open. “Change of plans,” I growl as my dick lengthens in my pants. I push her shoulders and force her to her knees. Exhilaration settles over me when she’s face-to-face with the bulge in my pants. Licking her lips, she gazes up at me demurely, which we both know is a complete farce.
I don’t even need to ask her for what I want. She lowers the zipper on my jeans, tugs my boxers down, and immediately wraps her mouth around my swollen cock. She takes me in again and again. I hover over her, resting my forearms against the wall above her. I close my eyes, living in the feeling, letting the pleasure take root in my balls and spread. The noises that pour from her mouth are as much for me as they are a show for anyone watching.
She certainly does play the game well. Anyone who walks by knows exactly what’s going on, and my reputation—as well as hers—stays firmly in place.
For a moment, while she sucks me off, I dream about a different life. About one where I don’t have to worry about all of my actions being dissected. I imagine a girl who makes those noises because I’m driving her so fucking crazy with desire that she needs to expel it into the air. I drive my hips forward at the thought, trembling involuntarily.
