“You want this?” he asked, his voice husky, his dark eyes looking down on me.
“Yes,” I hissed impatiently. Wasn’t that exactly what I’d been saying this whole time?
“Then start talking, princess. Nothing in this world is free. You and I know that better than anyone.”
His hand was still working my breast, making me pant, the pressure between my legs building.
And then suddenly he went perfectly still.
I frowned at him.
“Talk,” he demanded.
“Fine,” I gritted out, and his hand immediately resumed its ministrations. “Uh . . . I had a fight with my sister. She . . . ruined my favorite sweater.”
“Bullshit.” He dragged his hand down my rib cage, over my belly, between my legs, but stopped with his fingers flat against my pelvis, just shy of where I wanted them most. “Try again.”
“Fuck, OK.” He started to rub me over the fabric of my pleated skirt. “Uh . . . um . . .” It was getting hard to think. “I got a C on my last math test. My parents are going to be so mad.”
He chuckled, the sound reverberating through me. “There’s no way in hell you’ve ever made anything below a B plus. Come on, Donna. I’m losing my patience.”
I was just about ready to wrench out of his hold, done with these stupid games. But then his hand slipped up under my skirt, and his fingers skimmed the edge of my panties. He moved the fabric aside and teased me with the lightest of touches.
“Oh god. Uh . . .”
His finger circled my entrance, gliding easily through my arousal. “Jesus, you’re soaked,” he whispered. “Come on, Donna, put us both out of our misery so I can drive my cock”—as he said that word, he slid a finger inside effortlessly, making me gasp—“into this warm, wet heaven between your thighs. Tell. Me.”
“It’s nothing. For fuck’s sake. I . . . it’s . . . I’m just moody because I’m on my period, OK?” I blurted.
He froze, his finger still inside me, and I realized what I’d just said. He looked down, then back up at me with a raised brow. I grimaced.
With an amused smirk, he pulled the finger out and held it up between us. His middle finger was slick with my arousal and nothing else. I wasn’t due for another week at least. He held it there for a moment, giving me the finger with my own wetness all over it, then put it into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed out as he sucked on it, and he tipped his head to the side.
“Fucking delicious. But no tangy, metallic aftertaste. Try again.”
“God damnit.” I gritted my teeth so hard a jolt of pain shot through my jaw as I wrenched out of his hold.
“Tell me something real.” The teasing lilt was gone from his voice. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make you feel good. Just fucking tell me something real, Donna.”
We are pleased to inform you that we are offering you early acceptance to . . .
I cracked. There were so many things going through my mind, so many feelings coursing through my body, something had to give. I buckled and got into his face.
“Fine. You want to know what happened? I got into Stanford. Early acceptance.”
“Is that not what you wanted?” he asked, but there was no confusion in his face, no judgment. He was simply asking.
I paused for a second, some of the tension draining from my shoulders. The next words came easier than I thought they would. “It’s what I’ve wanted since before high school. But when I read that email . . . I felt nothing. Empty. No, that’s not right. It wasn’t nothing. It just wasn’t what it was supposed to be. There was no excitement, no joy, no pride at my accomplishment, no urge to jump up and down and tell my friends and family.” I licked my lips, staring at his teal tie, and forged on. As if I could stop at this point anyway. “I read that email, the culmination of everything I’d worked for all these years, and it felt like the ceiling collapsed. Everyone else just strolled on by, heading into the auditorium, oblivious to the fact that I was holding the entire goddamn building up over our heads, with my knees ready to buckle.”
I looked into his eyes, no longer trying to hide the emotion I was feeling yet could hardly label.
He took hold of my upper arms and stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. “Thank you for telling me. That couldn’t have been easy.”
Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes, and I had no idea why.
“I don’t want to cry, Hendrix,” I told him. “I just want to forget for a little while. Just make me forget. Make me feel good.”
He stared at me for another beat, the air between us getting charged. In the auditorium, a round of unenthusiastic applause went up as students carrying wind instruments filed on stage, ready to play a version of our school song.
He leaned down and whispered, “I can do that. I got you, baby.” Then he kissed me—a bruising, distracting, dizzying kiss.
I moaned, but before I could wrap my arms around him, his lips were gone, and he was pushing me roughly around until his front was flush with my back.
Hot cinnamon breath washed over my ear, sending shivers of anticipation through my body. “Everyone thinks you’re little miss perfect, all your ducks in a row, such a good girl. But I know you, Donna. I know the depravity you crave, the need humming under your skin.”
He squeezed my shoulders, and I leaned back into him, but in the next instant, his warmth at my back disappeared.
“Take your panties off,” he ordered.
I swallowed, the logical, in-charge Donna bristling at the tone. But she was already fading—along with her stresses and anxieties. Dark Donna was taking over, even if I wasn’t wearing come-fuck-me boots and a low-cut top.
I reached under my skirt and pushed my underwear down my legs, purposely arching my back and sticking my ass out as I stepped out of them.
“Give them to me.” His hand appeared at my side, and I placed the small piece of gray fabric in his palm.
As soon as my panties were tucked into his pocket, he reclaimed the space between us, his hands on my hips, his steel-hard erection pressing into my ass. I ground back against him, and he released a shaky breath.
“Undo the buttons of your shirt.” He kissed and licked the side of my neck, and I tipped my head to give him better access as my fingers fumbled with the buttons. Another round of applause went up in the auditorium just as I managed to get them all undone, the entire school applauding my efforts.
This was so fucked, so dangerous, doing this here, behind a door that didn’t lock, with Mr. Monroe literally feet away.
And I was loving every damn second of it.
Hendrix dragged his hands down the sides of my legs until he reached the hem of the skirt, then clasped the fabric and dragged them back up. My bottom half was completely exposed as I stood there in knee-high uniform socks and sensible black shoes, trembling with the anticipation of feeling him inside me.
As his hands continued up my ribs, the skirt fluttered back down, but then he was exposing me in another way. He seized the two sides of my unbuttoned shirt and yanked them apart, making me gasp. Almost instantly his hands were on my breasts, grabbing, kneading in rhythm with the grinding of his hips.
A soft moan escaped me, and I reached back for something to hold on to. My hands clawed at his pants—closed around the fabric at the sides of his thighs.
He dropped his right hand, reached under the skirt, and grabbed me between the legs as his left hand pushed into the cup of my bra. His fingers dug into my flesh, and he started to walk us forward.
“You’re not a good girl at all, are you?” He was panting now, his words strained. “Sneaking out to bars, keeping secrets from your friends and family, fucking tattooed men with criminal records. You like the danger, crave it, get off on the prospect of getting caught.”
I whimpered. His hands weren’t doing anything, weren’t rubbing or caressing or stroking me. I was desperate with need, my pussy clenching and relaxing, seeking some kind of relief. And his words only drove me higher.
Usually I hated it when he said things about me that were true, when he had me figured out. But in that moment, I loved every syllable. I was his, and I couldn’t wait to see what he’d do with me.
He stopped us just in front of the dead control panel and long narrow window, the entire auditorium of three hundred people visible below. Any one of them could turn around at any moment. Would they be able to see us up here in the darkness?
The prospect made arousal flood through me, wetness gathering between my legs and soaking Hendrix’s fingers.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, rubbing me up and down a few times, spreading the wetness all over my thighs. “You’re so fucking wet. You love this, don’t you? As much as you love the danger of Davey’s. Anyone could walk in at any moment and catch us. Anyone could look up and see my hand down your bra. You’re not little Miss Mead at all—you’re not a good girl. You’re a bad, bad girl, Donna. And you want me to fuck you in front of the entire school, don’t you?”
“Fuck. Yes.”
He rubbed my clit roughly, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
“Holy shit.” I panted, bucking my hips to meet the movements of his hand. “I’m gonna, I’m . . .” Already, the intense feeling was building, that inevitable pressure in my lower half.
I threw my head back against his shoulder and moaned. The sound was too loud. I knew it as soon as it escaped my mouth. Had someone heard? Shit!
The thought of it pushed me over the edge, pleasure coursing through my system.
Hendrix gripped my jaw with his free hand and turned my head, capturing my mouth with his. He kissed me passionately—tongues swiping, teeth bumping—and swallowed every sound I made as I came apart on his hand.
“Shh!” he whispered against my lips as I panted, my vision returning. But Hendrix didn’t give a fuck that my knees were going weak—he wasn’t going to give me a break.
“You need to keep your mouth shut or this stops right now. I can’t get expelled for fucking you at a school assembly.”
“Fuck you.” It sounded weak and half-assed. “I can’t exactly control it.”
He licked my lips, then pushed me forward over the control panel. I threw my hands out, but the only area not covered in buttons and knobs was at the top, which meant I had to stretch my hands almost completely out. That left me pretty much lying on top of the thing, all those knobs and buttons pressing into my front.
Hendrix leaned over me and rubbed his erection against my ass. “I thought you were in control of everything at all times,” he taunted, his voice gravelly.
I had no witty response. I didn’t give a shit anymore. I just wanted him inside me.
With one hand, I reached back and fumbled at the waistband of his pants, but he slapped my fingers away and did the job himself. The rustle of fabric was followed by the distinct sound of a foil packet opening, and a few seconds later, my skirt was flipped up over my lower back.
His hands kneaded my ass, and then his hard length was at my entrance. The head of his cock entered me, stretching me, and I groaned.
He pulled out. “For fuck’s sake, Donna. I’m not messing around. You need to be quiet.”
I shifted and lifted myself slightly, looking over my shoulder. He was so impossibly gorgeous, his face flushed, his lips slick from kissing me, his swollen cock standing proud. I focused on his intense stare. “I’m sorry, OK? I’m not doing it on purpose. I’ll try to be quiet, but you have my permission to do whatever the fuck you need to shut me up.”
His eyes darkened at that, and I turned to face the front again.
Ms. Perry was back on the stage, talking about prom or a new mentorship program or . . . something. It was impossible to focus on anything other than the insanely hot man about to be inside me.
Hendrix’s hand appeared next to mine as he once again leaned in close and positioned himself at my entrance. His free hand ran through my hair, and he caressed the back of my neck with his knuckles, sending shivers down my spine. The touches were gentle, sweet.
Which made the contrast of what he did next so much more intoxicating. As he pushed into me, his hand clamped over my mouth, muffling any sounds I made.
He took two slow, deliberate strokes, his body learning mine, then started to fuck me in earnest. His hips slammed against my ass mercilessly as his fingers dug into my cheek, keeping me silent.
I watched the assembly begin to wrap up as Hendrix pounded me from behind. I could see everything below, but I wasn’t seeing any of it. Every fiber of my being was focused on him. His hand on my face, the taut muscles of the arm next to me, the hard, warm, wet, stretching, punishing freedom . . .
Another orgasm washed over me, heat spreading from my core all the way to the tips of my toes and fingers. Hendrix buried himself deep inside me and rolled his hips, his body collapsing over mine as he panted through his own release.
Even through the fog of my own orgasm, I was impressed at his control, his ability to remain silent.
His hand over my mouth eased, and he brushed some hair off my cheek before pressing his forehead against my temple. For a few seconds, we just breathed the same air. We just existed together in this moment, and I felt as if I were floating on a cloud of possibility.
Chapter Twenty
Hendrix
With one last kiss to her temple, I pulled out and . . . realized I’d fucked up. Big time. Hooking up with Donna at Davey’s and in that office was one thing—we hardly knew each other, we had this angry sexual tension going, it was hot, and that was that. But what we’d just done—it was so much more than sex. She’d told me something real, shown me a part of her soul. I’d known what she craved and given it to her.
And now, as I tied off the condom and buried it under a muffin wrapper in the trash, a tightness settled around my chest. I actually gave a shit what happened to her. I was emotionally invested.
Fuck.
My princess was feeling trapped in her ivory tower, and I knew exactly how she felt, what that could lead to.
Her arousal was still slick on the base of my dick, and I was already missing her warmth, her tight body writhing under mine, her labored breathing against my hand. I wanted to make her forget her life again, help her find oblivion in ecstasy over and over and over until nothing else mattered. But this wasn’t some fantasy where we could just run away and spend the rest of our lives fucking in a cabin in the woods.
Donna cleared her throat as she finished buttoning up her shirt. “Can I have my underwear back, please?”
I did my pants back up, tucked my shirt in, straightened my tie, took my sweet-ass time to respond. “No,” I told her with a slight twitch of my lips.
Her eyes narrowed. “Hendrix, don’t be ridiculous. I need my underwear. I can’t go back to class like this. What if I trip or something and my skirt goes flying up?”
“Then don’t go to class.” I ran my hands through my hair and brushed the creases from my uniform. The assembly had finished, and a cacophony of sound drifted in through the narrow window—students all talking over one another, feet shuffling toward the exits. We backed farther into the darkness, closer to the door.
Donna finished straightening herself up as well, her appearance as pristine as possible without a mirror or a brush. Then she gave me a firm look.
“I don’t have time for this. We need to slip into the crowd as everyone’s leaving so we don’t get caught. Give me my panties.” She reached for my pocket, but I brushed her hands away and backed up against the wall.
I could see that look in her eyes returning—the one that hardened her against the world. She was retreating, probably freaking out about all she’d told me, seconds away from running from me yet again and avoiding even acknowledging what just happened between us. But I was done letting Donna Mead walk away from me. I was done letting her walk away from her problems. I was done letting her control everything. She’d been doing it for years, and it clearly wasn’t working for her.
“You c
an have them. In ten minutes.”
“What?” She frowned and glanced at the door. Our window was closing.
“Meet me at the east entrance in ten minutes, and you can have them back. Bring your coat.”
“Hendrix, I’m not going to skip class to . . .”
I didn’t hang around to listen to her enraged demands. I just opened the door, made sure no one was looking, and rushed down the stairs until I was close enough behind a group of freshman girls to look as if I was exiting with the rest of the students.
I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder and check if Donna was doing the same. She was a big girl—she’d figure it out.
As I passed through the auditorium’s double doors, I accidentally caught the eye of Mr. Monroe—my English teacher. The guy was the youngest staff member at Fulton but easily the most hard-ass. He had the best opportunity to connect with his students because of his youth, but I’d never even seen the dude smile, let alone crack a joke.
He frowned at me before pushing his glasses back up his nose. I had no idea what that was about, but I smiled back politely and breezed on past. The only surefire way to get caught doing something dodgy was to act as though you had something to hide.
Between going to my locker to get my stuff and walking out to my car, I questioned my decision to cut class about a thousand times.
I was breaking my vow to keep my head down, stay out of trouble, and get past my senior year without any hiccups. I was also breaking my aunt’s trust.
I got into my car and sighed, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Maybe I should just go back inside. If I hurried, I wouldn’t even be late for gym. But then Donna would be left standing on the sidewalk alone, and she’d be pissed. And hurt, even if she didn’t show it. I couldn’t let her down—especially after I’d manipulated her into coming.
Sighing, I pulled my phone out and shot a quick message to my aunt.
I’m skipping school for the rest of the day. I promise it’s important and necessary. Can you please cover for me if the school calls?
I started the car, but her reply was instant.
Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2) Page 18