Punk 57 (25 page)

Her eyes—those blue eyes—have a dozen different emotions going on in them when she looks at me. She can say the nastiest things, but if I see fear or sadness in her eyes, I’m done for.

Her rash guard has ridden up in the struggle, and a few inches of skin is exposed. I slowly slide my fingers over her stomach, watching as her eyelids flutter closed.

“Yeah, I told you, man,” one of the guards calls out. “They bolted out the door. Let’s search the grounds.”

I graze my lips across her cheek, her neck arching up more and more until her lips are millimeters away from mine. I can taste her fucking breath.

“Pull up your shirt.”

She opens her eyes and shakes her head, looking scared.

I lean in, whispering against her mouth. “Come on. I think you like danger.”

My finger is sitting over the pulse in her neck, and I can feel it speed up as I grab her bottom lip between my teeth and drag it out gently.

Her ass slowly grinds into me and I keep my moan silent as I see the flashlights retreat and finally leave the library.

As soon as I see the two sets of boots disappear and the doors close behind them, I slide my hand down the front of her shorts and cover her mouth with mine, letting out the groan I’d been holding back.

Her pussy is soft and smooth, and I shudder at the heat as I dip my fingers inside of her, feeling how tight she is.

“You’re not my business, huh?” I challenge. “You’re so wet around my fingers. That is my business.” I slide in a second one.

“Oh, my God,” she whimpers. “Masen, no.”

“Why not?” I hold her jaw, trailing kisses across her cheek as I pump my fingers inside her. “You think your friends will hate you when they find out you’re a slut who loves getting finger-fucked on a floor.”

I slide my fingers all the way in and back out a few times in long, full strokes, before bringing them up and rubbing her clit.

She moans, arching her back, and my cock strains against my jeans, begging to grow.

“Yes.” She licks my lip ring, rubbing her ass into my dick. “I’m afraid they’ll find out I like it.”

Yes.
I kiss her fast, moving over her mouth hard and strong, because I feel like eating, and she’s the only food I want.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” I tell her. “I’ve waited too long for this.”

“Huh?”

But I dive back inside her, ignoring her and kissing her neck and jaw and pulling her ear lobe in between my teeth. I taste any bit of skin I can reach, never slowing my fingers down. Of course she doesn’t understand my comment, and I won’t explain. She has no idea that she’s been in my head and body for years instead of just days.

My fingers keep going, deep and steady, coming out to swirl around her clit every so often and feeling her shiver against me. She spreads her legs wider, and I bring my fingers out, covering her whole damn pussy in my hand, because I just want to savor the feel of her. All of her in my hands.

“Masen.” Her pant is wanton and filled with lust.

Masen.
I want her to say my name. Not someone else’s.

“I can feel how hard I’m making you,” she whispers up at me, kissing my jaw. “What the hell’s happening?”

I don’t know, but I can’t stop it any more than you can.

“Pull up your shirt,” I demand again.

But she shakes her head.

“Now,” I growl, leaning into her cheek. “I want to look at you.”

Her whisper tickles my jaw. “But you won’t just look. You’ll touch.”

Hell, yes, I will. “You got a problem with that?” I ask. “Because your pussy is kind of in my hand already.”

She kisses me light and soft, biting and teasing. “But if I take off my top,” she teases “you’re going to want me to take off my bottoms, too.”

I groan, my cock swelling painfully. The thought of her naked has the room starting to tip on its side.

Please.

She covers my hand on her pussy with her hand and presses it into herself, grinding against it. “And then your hands won’t be enough, and you’ll want to fuck.” She moans, her body grinding against mine. “And my prom date won’t like that.”

I squeeze her waist, baring my teeth. God, she knows how to fuck with me.

“He doesn’t have to know,” I tell her “As long as you do what you’re told.”

I bring my hand slowly up to her neck, and an excited smile flashes across her face as she reaches down and lifts up her rash guard. I briefly let go as she pulls it over her head, revealing a peach-colored bikini top underneath. Her breasts rise well off her chest, the curves of her smooth, olive skin looking like hills in front of me, and her hard nipples poke through the fabric. My mouth is so dry. I want to taste her everywhere.

“Good girl,” I whisper. “Now take off the other top.”

She sucks in a quick breath, and she looks up, holding my eyes as she timidly reaches behind her neck and pulls the string in one long, fluid motion.

The straps fall loose at her side, and I come up, slowly peeling off one triangle of fabric, exposing her pretty flesh.

Christ.
More than a solid handful.

She pulls away the other triangle, and I stare in awe at her. So stunning. And not even her body so much as they way she plays me, saying just the right thing to drive me insane and make me angry, turned on, possessive…

She suddenly brings up her arms, covering herself.

“Did I tell you to do that?”

She slowly lowers her arms, exposing her skin for me again.

“How long do you want to look at them?” she asks shyly.

I slip my hand back into her bottoms and slide my two fingers deep inside her again.

“Until you come,” I answer, pumping her and watching her tits bounce as her body sways back and forth.

She squeezes her eyes shut, moaning.

“You like it?” I taunt.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“I like it!” she cries out.

Her nipple stands up like a point, and I can’t take my eyes off her as I fuck her and kiss her lips.

“Come on, Rocks. Buy my silence,” I growl as she rolls her ass against me, dry-fucking my dick as I finger her. “Spread those legs and come on my fingers, and I won’t tell everyone you’re the little shit writing on the walls.”

She rests her head on my shoulder and reaches back with one hand, holding the back of my neck as she fucks my hand. Something builds low in my stomach, and the friction of her rubbing against my cock sends need rolling through me as we go harder and harder. Her tits are bouncing rough and fast, and I watch them, imagining my dick inside of her, fucking her.

“Don’t tell anyone. Please?” she begs, thrusting against me.

The blood rushes to my cock, and I feel cum drip out of my tip.
Fuck, I need to be inside of her.

“Just a little more, baby,” I urge. “How good are you willing to give it to me to keep me quiet? Huh?”

“Ah,” she whimpers. “Yeah, whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

She nods frantically, crying out. “Yes!” She moves faster and faster, chasing her orgasm, and then finally throws her head back and stills, moaning and shivering as she comes. “Oh, God!”

I push my fingers deep inside her, rubbing her spot and feeling her body’s little convulsions as the orgasm works through her.

She breathes hard and fast, her body tense, and my cock is hard and ready to go, aching in my jeans. I wouldn’t want to screw her for the first time in a library, but I didn’t expect to get myself this worked up, either.

Her orgasm ebbs away, and she calms, her chest rising and falling slower and slower. I look down at her body and her beautiful face, a wave of shit I don’t know what to do with washing over me.

Guilt, because she still doesn’t know who I am, and I’ve just dug myself in deeper.

Longing, because I miss her. I miss talking to her as me.

Lust greater than I’ve ever known, because when we’re like this, it’s the only time she softens and changes and gives me an inch, and it’s a need that’s in my head just as much as my body. It keeps me on my toes.

And something else growing that I don’t want to be there. Something that might make it very hard to leave her.

And impossible to forget her.

I watch her face, her body still and her eyes downcast, and a bad feeling creeps through me. She’s not looking at me.

After a few moments, she sits up and crawls off me, standing up and grabbing her clothes. I hesitate only a moment before I sit up, as well, watching her warily. She dresses and pushes her hair behind her ear, looking anywhere but at me.

The moment is gone.

But I stare at her anyway, not letting her off the hook.

She picks up her backpack and finally looks at me. “You started it,” she snips, her guard back up, “so if you’re expecting a blow job, then—”

“Then I know where to get one,” I reply, cutting her off. “You’re not my first rodeo.”

A chill settles under my skin, and now I’m pissed. Her jaw flexes, and she arches an eyebrow.

How quickly she can go from hot to cold.

She puts on her backpack and twists around, heading down the stairs. I stand up and walk over to the railing, watching her leave the library.

Fine. She wants her jock prom date in order to live some lie for everyone else’s approval? I can understand that.

But it doesn’t mean she’s going to own every round we play.

Trey’s game is on Saturday, so I have a couple days to kill until then. If she wants to play, I can play.

I haven’t spoken to Masen in almost two days. Not since Wednesday night in the library, and now it’s Friday afternoon, and he wasn’t in our first class today again. How does he just come and go like it’s no big deal? Has he even turned in any work? I’ve never seen him with books, and I’m tempted to go to the Cove and check on him. Is he even still there?

I don’t know why I care. He’s constantly getting in my face, I know next to nothing about him, and he’s dangerous for me. I’m not looking to break the mold when the year’s almost over. I’ve come this far, and I don’t want any drama. He
should
stay away.

But I find myself looking for him. In class. In the cafeteria. In the parking lot. Even when I go home, this small hope lights up that he’ll ambush me in my room just like that first day last week.

I want to be alone with him again. Those few stolen moments—the car, the lab, the library—they’re like my letters from Misha. Something to look forward to.

I didn’t leave any graffiti last night after swim lessons, partly because I almost got caught the night before with him and it was a good idea to back off for a few days, but also because I suddenly didn’t want to.

Masen was the release now.

And I hated that.

When Misha disappeared, and I didn’t know if he was getting my words, I started leaving them at school for people to read. It’s stupid and childish, but one day a couple of months ago, when things got to be too much, I was afraid I’d start screaming. So that night, before locking up the pool, I made a snap-second decision and took out my Sharpie. I wrote on a locker—a special message for just that person.