The feel of her soft hair in my hands, and her even softer mouth . . .
My whole body tensed, and I banged my head against the wall, bending slightly at the knees as the most intense orgasm washed over me. I couldn’t have warned her if I wanted to—the climax came over me so suddenly and with such force. For a second, my vision went black, stars sparking at the edges as I exploded down her throat.
She swallowed it all, sucking and licking as I gasped for air as though I were drowning.
I slumped against the wall. My legs and arms felt like noodles as I slowly caught my breath. Donna sat back on her heels and gave me one small, satisfied smile. She looked happy with herself—as she should, that was fucking phenomenal—but she also looked more relaxed, not as worked up as she’d been in the hallway just moments before.
Without another word, she reached into her pocket, popped a mint into her mouth, then smoothed her hair and uniform before getting to her feet and walking out of the office.
“What the f . . .” I scrambled to tuck myself back into my pants and rushed after her, leaving the door wide open.
I caught a glimpse of her turning the corner at the end of the hallway and took off jogging after her. When I was halfway up the hall, several people rounded the corner and started walking toward me. The meeting must’ve finished, and all the teachers and admin workers were heading back to their offices. I slowed down to a respectable speed and plastered a neutral look on my face until I passed them.
As soon as I was out of the hall, I booked it toward the stairs.
“Donna!” I called out, taking the stairs down two at a time. I caught up to her just as she reached the halfway point.
She turned to me, a little confused, but didn’t stop walking. “What?”
“What do you mean what? Are you OK?” I leaned in, keeping my voice low. She’d left without a single word. Had I hurt her? Was I too rough? “Did you not want to . . . did you change your mind or something?”
She laughed under her breath. “No. You finished, didn’t you?”
I blew out a big breath. “I mean, yeah. I finished spectacularly.” There was that satisfied smirk again. “But did I do something to make you uncomfortable? You just left without saying anything.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to cuddle? You’ll have to get yourself a girlfriend for that.”
“I don’t want a fucking girlfriend,” I barked, a little too loudly. Voices were starting to reach us from below—people were making their way to their next classes. We were about to be swallowed up by the student body once more. “I just want to make sure you’re OK.”
She finally stopped and faced me, rolling her eyes before glancing down at my crotch. “Your vagina is showing.”
“What?” I glanced down, then looked at her as if she was crazy—I was starting to think she was. “I’m just trying to be a decent human being and make sure I didn’t choke you out with my dick. Why do you have to be such a bitch about it?”
“I’m fine. You’re more than fine. That was a hookup and nothing more, and I didn’t think we needed to compare notes. Also, I didn’t want to get caught in Mr. Kirke’s office. So I left. Nothing else to it. Now stop acting like a pussy and wait a few minutes before coming the rest of the way downstairs. I don’t want to be seen with you.”
She fixed my collar, gave me a sweet smile, and walked away.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out if I wanted to smile or punch something.
Donna Mead was a fucking force of nature, and if I wasn’t careful, I had a feeling she would knock me to my knees like a goddamn landslide.
Chapter Twelve
Donna
The heat from the massive bonfire warmed my right cheek, but not as much as the heat from Hendrix’s stare was warming my left.
It had been stupid to hook up with him again, get on my knees for that cocky son of a bitch. It had definitely been stupid to do it at school, where anyone could’ve caught us. But that was part of the thrill, wasn’t it? It was a reckless thing to do, but I was enraged after my chat with Mr. Kirke, and I’d needed an outlet. He was just there, that was all. It could’ve just as easily been Will if he’d happened to walk down that corridor toward me.
I’d avoided him for the next few days, to make it clear it meant nothing, but there he was, invading my Saturday night. Again.
Even through his Jason mask, I could tell he was watching me. He’d worn plain black jeans and a black jacket, but the mask from Friday the 13th was iconic enough to make his lazy costume clear. I huffed and took a drink of my soda, careful not to ruin my lipstick. Mena had spent hours doing our makeup, insisting on getting it perfect.
I was dressed as Britney Spears in the flight attendant uniform from the “Toxic” video. My sister was the perfect “Baby One More Time” Britney, with the slutty uniform and her long hair in pigtails. Amaya had opted for the skimpiest Britney outfit, but the look from her performance of “Slave 4 You” at the VMAs looked perfect on my stunning friend. She was so committed to the look we’d had to talk her out of buying an actual snake to wear around her neck all night. Mena was in head-to-toe denim and had somehow talked Turner into dressing in all denim too so they could be Britney and Justin in their matching outfits.
Half the reason we’d decided on these costumes was so we could say hi to people when we arrived and declare, “We’re Britney, bitch!” The first half hour at the party had been a lot of fun as we ran around greeting people we knew.
Last year we’d planned to go to some party at Nicola’s parents’ penthouse loft in San Francisco, but we’d ended up staying in to watch horror movies instead. Mena had worked all day and fallen asleep halfway through the first one.
This year, Harlow talked us all into going to a not-entirely-legal party. We’d driven nearly an hour out of town, into rural land, then down some dirt track to a party in a field. With every bump in the track, every ding on the outside of my car, I wondered how much damage I was doing. Should’ve taken the jeep Dad got for fishing trips he never went on.
There was a massive bonfire in the middle of the clearing, dark woods edged one side, and a wheat field stretched as far as the firelight could illuminate and beyond.
Easily several hundred people were there. Some of them were Harlow’s gaming friends who’d invited her in the first place—a bunch of gangly nerds who hadn’t even bothered to dress up. She’d introduced us all, and we’d made small talk, but it became apparent pretty quickly we had nothing in common. I was pretty sure every one of those computer geeks wanted to get into my crazy smart, adorably beautiful sister’s pants.
There were college kids there, and some people from Devilbend North High—Mena’s old school. At first I was surprised to see how many people there were Fulton students, but it made sense. Harlow had invited all our friends, and they would’ve told others, and Amaya couldn’t keep her mouth shut about a party if she tried.
I ignored the tingly sensation of eyes watching me and turned to look at Amaya. She was in her element, several college guys hanging around her as she flirted and drank from the only champagne glass in sight. Literally everyone else was making do with shitty red cups. Where did she even get that?
“Donna.” Harlow bumped into me, breathless. I stumbled but righted us both. She hung off me, her hands on my shoulders and her face really close to mine. “Donna, I can hear the fire,” she whispered, her eyes going really wide.
I gave her a confused look. “Yeah, Harlow. We can all hear the fire. The wood crackles as it burns.”
Her eyebrows rose, and she blinked once. “Oh yeah.” Then she burst into laughter.
“How did you get drunk this fast?” I asked, getting a little worried. We’d only been there an hour.
“Uhhhhhmmmmmm.” The guilty look on her face was almost caricaturish.
I rolled my eyes. “What did you take?”
“Just a little.” She held up her finger and thumb and squinted through the gap at me.
<
br /> “A little what?” I led her a few steps away from the fire and the crowd.
“Ooh, you want some? I feel great!” She pulled a little baggie out of her skirt pocket and held it out to me.
I took it from her and inspected it. The baggie had several little white pills in it—E. She was going to have a fucking fantastic night . . . but she was going to come down hard. I guided her over to a bunch of coolers and opened a few until I found one filled with bottled water, then stuffed one into her hand and made her look at me. “Harlow. You drink this or I’m going to take you home, got it?”
She straightened and saluted me. “Yes, ma’am!” Then her eyes wandered to something over my shoulder, and her mouth fell open. “Donna, there are freakishly tall people walking in the big grass.”
“What?” I turned to follow her gaze and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re not seeing shit. Those are performers. People on stilts.” Someone—probably from Fulton, as I was pretty sure no one else could afford the extravagance—had hired a bunch of performers for the night. Several people on stilts were wandering the wheat field, coming into the crowd every once in a while, and contortionists in grotesque costumes twisted themselves into scenes reminiscent of the exorcist. I’d even seen a few very convincing “werewolves” leap out of the woods, scaring the absolute shit out of a group of girls, who sent high-pitched screams into the night. I had to hand it to whoever had done this—it had taken the mediocre rave in a field to the next level. Everyone was on edge, the adrenaline mingling with the alcohol (or drugs) as they waited for what might happen next.
“Oh. OK.” With a grin, she snatched the baggie of fun out of my hand and ran off, pigtails bouncing as she barreled through the crowd of college dudes to Amaya’s side. They chatted, the dudes laughed at some joke she cracked, and then she passed Amaya the little baggie.
Great. Now I’d have two off-their-faces idiots to haul home tonight. I was starting to wish I’d taken Will’s offer to drive us so I could drink too. But he always got drunk at parties, and I couldn’t rely on him to get us home. And it wasn’t as if I’d be able to get an Uber to come out here, so . . . someone had to be responsible.
Mena appeared at my side and bumped my shoulder with hers. “Hey, you. Having a good night?”
“Yeah.” I smiled at her. “You look really pretty.”
“Thanks.” She glanced down at the swathes of denim and gave a little twirl from side to side. Her eyes were a bit glassy, and her own lipstick was starting to get smudged. I could smell alcohol on her breath. She leaned down and fixed herself another drink from the coolers.
“You’re glaring again.” She chuckled.
I shook my head and pulled my gaze away from Hendrix. I hadn’t even realized I’d gone back to staring at him.
“I didn’t mean to. I just don’t like him being here.” I crossed my arms. He was standing with Turner, talking, laughing, chatting with some of Turner’s friends. He looked as if he was having a good time, and for some reason, that pissed me off more than anything.
“Why?” Mena wrapped an arm around my waist and took another sip of her drink. “Things have been fine since you made everyone at school back off him. You guys haven’t even yelled at each other in weeks. But he’s kind of getting close with Turner, so I’ve been talking to him a bit, and he’s really not that bad.”
All my friends had seen was him being an arrogant smart-ass to me, me laying down the law, and us bickering those few times at school. They had no idea what he had over me, what I’d let him do to me, what I’d done to him. Hendrix and I were getting all twisted up in each other, and I didn’t like it one bit.
I wrapped my arm around her waist too and turned us toward the fire. “OK. No more glaring. Let’s talk about something else.”
“OK. What do you want to talk about?”
“How about our trashed friends?” I pointed at Harlow and Amaya, who were dancing as if they could feel the music moving through their bones, heads rolling in ecstasy. They were sweaty and rubbing up on each other in the middle of the dance floor—and had the attention of half the guys at the party and a few of the girls too.
Mena laughed. “I wish I had Amaya’s confidence. And Harlow’s complete lack of care for what people think of her. And your . . . fuck, everything.”
“You don’t want to be me, trust me.” It came out low, way more somber than the self-deprecating joke I’d intended it to sound like.
“Donna?” Mena frowned at me. I could see the question on the tip of her tongue—the “are you OK?” A twinge of panic squeezed my chest. I wasn’t sure I could lie to her if she asked me so directly.
But Drew saved me from having to.
“Ladies!” He draped himself over us both, one arm around Mena and the other around me, his athletic body towering over us. He smelled like expensive cologne and bonfire smoke.
“Hey, Drew.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek, grateful for the distraction.
“Come on, Mena—my other cheek feels left out.” He leaned his head between ours and wiggled his eyebrows.
She whacked him in the stomach. “No. We’ve been over this. How drunk are you?”
“Not at all.” He took a swig from his beer and immediately returned his arm to my shoulders, then lowered his voice. “Actually, I’m just trying to make a girl jealous.”
Biting his lip, he gave Mena a look that would’ve had her dragging him off to find a secluded tree in the woods—if she was actually into him.
“So, your strategy for picking up is to make it look like you have two other chicks on the hook?” I gave him a skeptical look.
“Yeah, you know most girls are put off by that, right?” Mena backed me up.
“Not this girl.” He grinned. “Trust me.”
“What girl?” Turner appeared in front of us, blocking our view of the fire and cocking his head to the side. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. This was going to be good.
Drew grinned. “You must be Turner.”
“And you must be Drew,” Turner deadpanned.
“Aw. You talk about me. I knew I had a place in your heart,” Drew cooed to Mena, pulling her closer as she rolled her eyes.
“Only to tell me what a pain in her ass you are,” Turner shot back.
“But what an ass!” Drew dropped his arms and turned, sticking his butt out and wiggling it in Mena’s direction.
Turner pulled Mena to his side and shook his head at Drew. I’d known him long enough to see the amusement in his eyes, but Drew hadn’t. He dropped the clown act and cleared his throat, standing to his full height.
“Hey, man, I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just messing around. I know she’s taken—she talks about you all the time. You’re a lucky man. Mena, am I making you uncomfortable?”
I coughed to cover up the giggle that was threatening to bubble over, but when Mena and Turner finally cracked, I gave up and joined them, all of us bursting into laughter at the wide-eyed look on Drew’s face.
Mena, ever the sweetheart, put him out of his misery. She stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know we’re just messing around. I would’ve said something if it was bothering me.”
“And I would’ve made you pay.” I wiped the tears from under my eyes.
“And I would’ve come down to that fancy-ass school to whoop your ass long ago,” Turner added.
Drew chuckled and jumped right back into his default setting, covering Mena’s hand on his shoulder with his. “Well, if we have the boyfriend’s blessing—”
Abruptly, his face fell as his attention snagged on something in the distance.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Nice to meet you, man. I gotta run.”
Without any explanation, he took a swig of his beer and rushed toward the edge of the clearing where the cars were parked.
Mena watched him with a confused expression. “What was that about?”
I shrugged. He’d joined a group of guys who had just shown up—all of whom I reco
gnized as Fulton Academy students, most of them on the football team. Two were gesturing wildly and getting in each other’s faces. Drew dropped his beer and got between them, keeping them apart. Others helped him stop the fight before it started, but then it looked as if they all broke into a heated discussion.
“What the hell is that about?” Turner voiced what we were all thinking as we stood there, watching the scene from afar.
“I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out.” I squared my shoulders.
“Want me to come with?” Turner asked. “That looked pretty heated.”
“No, that’s OK. Thanks.” I patted him on the arm. “I know all those guys. You two go have fun.”
I marched off before they could argue.
The closer I got, the more apparent it became that I knew each one of them. Some were in Halloween costumes, masks, and grotesque monster makeup, but others were just in jeans and their Fulton varsity jackets.
Will was leaning on the hood of his gray Bentley, watching the others argue with a passive, if not bored, look on his face.
“Boys!” I raised my voice a little to get their attention. “It’s a party. What’s with the hostility?”
“Donna, baby, I got this. It’s just some guy stuff.” Drew threw me an easy smile, but his shoulders were tense, and he was still shooting looks at Luke and Donnie—the two who had nearly started throwing fists earlier.
“What happened?” I demanded. An uneasy feeling crept up my spine, leaving a chill in its wake despite the heat of the bonfire. This was how they’d been acting after Luke crashed his car over the summer and injured himself and three other guys on the team. His left arm was still in a cast.
“Nothing, Donna. It’s fine.” Luke rubbed the back of his head and turned away from everyone.
“Is someone hurt?” I folded my arms. Then someone shifted, allowing a streak of bright light to fall over Donnie’s face, and I gasped and rushed forward. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened?”
His left eye was black and blue, and there were scrapes on his chin. He glanced over my shoulder and swallowed audibly, then gave a hollow chuckle. “Football is a contact sport. Shit happens.” He pulled me into a hug. “But thanks for the concern.”
Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2) Page 11