Punk 57

by Penelope Douglas

“What do you care? You don’t know me.”

  “Hey, who’s there?” one of the guards shouts.

  Shit! I grab Ryen’s hand and we bolt for the classroom door.

  “Hey!” he yells.

  Ryen cries out as she struggles to keep up, and we rush into the hallway, turning left.

  “Stop!” I hear him say, and I see the glow of his flashlight shining on us.

  His radio crackles, and I hear him talking, but we’re already around the corner. Passing one of the exits, I notice it doesn’t have a chain, and I push it open, hearing the alarm go off. But we don’t leave. I pull Ryen the other direction and bolt up the stairs.

  “Masen,” she gasps, breathing hard.

  We could’ve just run, I guess, but my truck is on the other side of the school, and I don’t know where her Jeep is. We might not make it without being recognized. Hopefully, with the alarm going off, they’ll think we bolted, though.

  I pull her into the library and let the door close softly before rushing up the stairs, hearing her struggle behind me. We hurry to the back, hidden behind stacks and rows of books, near the couches and chairs. The library is dark, only the faint moonlight coming in from the windows high above. Our steps are soft, thanks to the carpeting, and I drag her behind a shelf, far, far above and away from the doors in the front.

  We’re secluded.

  The alarm still goes off, but it’s faint.

  She collapses into me. “Masen…”

  She breathes fast and hard, only able to take in shallow breaths, and I wrap my arms around her, feeling her go limp.

  What the fuck?

  Worry floods through me, and I cup her face as she fights for air. Her lids are hooded and she looks like she’s in pain.

  “My bag,” she breathes out.

  What? And then I widen my eyes, remembering. Oh, fuck. She has asthma. That’s right.

  I shoot down to her backpack on the floor and dig in the front pocket, pulling out a red inhaler.

  I stand back up, wrapping her in my arms and holding her up. “Here.”

  She leans into me, her head resting on my chest as she takes a puff and waits a moment before inhaling another one.

  Her chest rises and falls fast, and I lower one arm, wrapping it around her waist as I hold her to me.

  Her weak body sinks into me as her breathing starts to slow down and she’s taking in deeper breaths.

  Dammit. She tried to tell me as we raced through the school, and I didn’t listen to her.

  What would I have done if she’d dropped her bag somewhere, and I couldn’t find her medicine?

  I hug her close, feeling, for the first time, how small she is in my arms. Ryen is always so large around me. Never backing down, her confidence always appearing larger than life.

  I hold her head to my chest with the other hand and bury my nose in her hair.

  “You’re okay,” I say gently. “I got you.”

  “My heart won’t stop pounding,” she says, her fragile voice starting to come around.

  “I know.” I smile. “I can feel it.”

  The beat of her heart is hitting my chest, and I can feel her body slowly get stable as her breathing calms.

  What am I going to do with this girl? Just when I think I have her figured out, she pulls at me a little more.

  Just when I think I can’t stand her, and I can leave, never looking back, I turn right around and want to make sure nothing hurts her.

  Her arms, hugged close to her body as I hold her, start to drop as she pulls away from me.

  She raises her eyes, looking a little embarrassed and not saying anything as she kneels down, grabbing her backpack.

  Standing up, she purses her lips and looks around.

  The alarm stops, and I have no idea what’s happening out there—if they think we left out the door or what—but she’s not leaving yet.

  “You don’t tell anyone about tonight, and I won’t tell anyone you were here, either,” she says. “Got it?”

  She turns to leave, but I grab her hand. “I think people would enjoy this version of you.”

  “My friends would hate me.”

  “They already hate you. Everyone does.”

  For a split-second, I see a frown cross her face, but it quickly disappears. She faces me, a light brown eyebrow arched in defiance.

  “Why fake it?” I charge. “Why compete with people and play the games?”

  She takes a step, trying to leave, but I pull her back. “Don’t walk away from me.”

  “This is none of your business!” she whisper-yells, yanking her hand free and scowling at me. “You don’t know me.”

  “Does anyone?”

  She looks away, her eyes suddenly glistening. After a moment, she speaks, her voice low. “I don’t want to be alone,” she admits. “They may hate me, but they respect me. I can’t be invisible or laughed at or….” She trails off and then continues. “I don’t know why. I just never had the courage to stand apart. I always wanted to fit in.”

  “Everyone wants to be accepted, Ryen.” Does she think no one’s ever had those same feelings? “Why do you write on the walls?”

  She stands there, staring off and looking like she’s struggling to find words.

  “Misha…” she says, trailing off again.

  I tense, my heart picking up pace.

  But then she shakes her head, letting the thought go. “It doesn’t matter. I just had ways to vent before, a way to be heard, and now I don’t. I just started doing it a couple of months ago.”

  A couple of months ago. Shortly after I stopped writing her.

  I blink long and hard.

  The fake friends, the hovering parent, the worry and stress of wanting to fit in just like most any other person out there… I was her bouncing board.

  I was so caught up in my own loss and anger, I never stopped to think how suddenly abandoning her after seven years would hurt her. Not that I’m responsible for her actions, but I am responsible for mine. She relied on me.

  “Why are you here?” she asks, turning it around on me.

  I look at the duffel bag in my hand, unashamed I needed a shower, but then that answer would lead to more questions. Why am I living at the Cove? Where are my parents?

  “Mmmm,” she gloats, a fake smile on her pretty face. “So others have to own up to you, but not the other way around, huh?” She backs away toward the stairs. “My mom is only a phone call away. I’ll get taken straight home with a slap on the wrist. Hope you enjoy your long, hard night in a cold cell,” she taunts and then calls over her shoulder. “Oh, Mr. Security Guard? Help!”

  She spins around, and I reach out and grab her, pulling her back into me. “Shut up!” I growl, clamping a hand over her mouth.

  But she immediately slams her elbow into my stomach, trying to get away, and I stumble backward, pulling her with me. She loses her footing, falls into me, and we both tumble to the floor.

  I grunt, my back hitting the ground and my arms still around her struggling body. She lies on top of me, her back against my chest.

  She squirms, trying to get away, the friction of her ass pressing into my groin. I tense, heat blanketing me.

  Fuck.

  She pulls my hand away, gritting under her breath. “Let me go.”

  “Stop moving then.”

  “You don’t get to judge me,” she goes on, turning her face to me, her breath falling on my cheek. “Or jerk me around or make demands. I’m none of your business.”

  Her body struggles in my arm, and her ass rubs against me again, making me groan.

  But then I hear something.

  I take her jaw, forcing her still as I whisper against her ear. “Shhh.”

  She suddenly stills, and we both stop breathing as the guards enter the library.

  I catch a flash of light through the stacks and hear keys jingle. They’re talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.

  Ryen casts a worried look up to me, and I stare back, h
olding her gaze.

  “What are you going to do?” I whisper low, for only us to hear as I search her eyes. “You gonna turn me in?”

  She lies there, breathing in and out but not making a move. My arm around her waist tightens, and I can’t stop myself from moving my thumb over the skin of her jaw.

  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.

&nbs
p; 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?