by Nicole Fox
She looks over her shoulder at me, brows lowered and angry, but her lips are still parting. Her breathing is heavier, and her arms have loosened over her chest.
I reach over and drag a finger from her shoulder to her elbow. Her skin is sticky with dried sweat, but I’ve still never felt anything smoother. I’ve still never wanted anyone so much.
“Touch yourself,” I whisper. “Unless you want me to do it for you.”
Her eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”
I shrug. “You said yourself you don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Her arms fall to her sides, her pebbled nipples visible through the thin material.
Hesitantly, Lily lifts a hand, her eyes pinned on mine, and rolls a finger over herself.
“Like this?”
My cock twitches at the faint brush, and I nod, worried my voice will give me away if I try to speak.
Lily flicks her finger over herself a few times, her chest heaving with her heavy, nervous breathing. Then, with trembling fingers, she grabs the elastic band of her bra and slowly, painfully peels it up.
Her breasts bounce free.
I bite back a groan. She isn’t big, but she is perfect. Perfectly round and pert. I want to reach over and remind myself of how well she fits in my hand. But I don’t want to do anything to slow down her boldness, to stop whatever she is doing to do next.
As if she can read my mind, Lily palms her breast and sighs, alternating between kneading the soft flesh and pinching her nipple between her fingers.
“You’re wet now, aren’t you?” I ask, voice low and hoarse.
She bites her lip and nods as she slides down further in the seat, her legs spreading open.
I don’t have to say anything. On her own, Lily slides her other hand down her flat stomach and beneath the band of her running shorts. Her entire body shivers as she drags a finger over herself.
Her hips buck up, grinding into her hand, and I can barely breathe. My body is tense, alert, hyper-focused on the unbelievably sexy display happening next to me.
“Take them off,” I say, gesturing to her shorts.
Lily keeps her eyes on me as she slides the material down her legs, revealing her panties. They are simple gray cotton, but they are better than any lingerie I’ve ever seen. Mostly because I can see where Lily has soaked through them. A dark spot directly in the center, proof of how much she wants this.
Proof that I’m not alone in my aching.
She pushes the material aside so I can see her mound. So I have a front row seat to her finger slipping beneath the curls, drawing circles over her sensitive spot.
Moans climb up her throat with every swirl of her finger and pinch of her nipple. Her eyes flutter closed as she loses herself to the sensation, as her body writhes and clenches and seeks out the pleasure building inside of her.
I barely realize what I’m doing as I unzip my jeans and wrap my hand around my base. I’m an animal following some baser instinct as I spit in my hand and stroke myself.
Lily turns to me, eyes hooded, watching me. It’s so hot, and we aren’t even touching.
“Slide your finger inside.”
She does exactly as I ask without hesitation.
“And another.”
She moans, her hips bucking to meet her fingers.
“And another.”
Lily gasps and arches her back, her hips lifting off the seat. Her stomach is clenched and tight, and I know she is close. I recognize the furrow of her brows and the pinch of her lip between her teeth.
“Don’t come until I say.”
Her eyes snap open, and she turns to me. “What?”
“You heard me.” I stroke myself, drawing her eyes downward. “Now use your thumb to circle your clit.”
She swallows, suddenly nervous. “But I can’t—If I do, I’ll—”
“Don’t,” I warn again. “Do as I say, but don’t you dare fucking come. Not without permission.”
Lily slowly brings her thumb up and circles over herself, and the pleasure on her face has morphed into pain. Into restraint.
She is so close.
So ready for release.
I grab her hand from her breast and bring it towards me. Without much instruction, she knows what I want.
Lily replaces my hand around my shaft and strokes. I reach over and grab her perfect breast.
Her heart is thundering in her chest, and I can feel the pound of it in my hand as I massage her and roll my palm over her pointed nipple.
I’m so focused on her small warm hand on me that I don’t realize right away that she has gone perfectly still. Lily isn’t moving an inch except for her hand.
“Keep fucking yourself.”
“I can’t move,” she groans. “If I do, I’ll—”
“Be punished,” I finish for her. “Hold back. Wait.”
She grits her teeth as she slips her fingers deeper into her own warmth, her thumb flicking the apex of her thighs. “That threat isn’t exactly helping.”
Her other thumb brushes over my tip, and I hiss. The thought of Lily on all fours in front of me, a red handprint on her ass, is almost too much
And the idea that she would like it … that is too much.
“Curl your fingers,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
I see the flex of her hand as she obeys me. Her entire body is clenched so hard she is shaking.
“Please. Let me. Please.”
I thrust my hips up, pumping myself into her hand, and Lily starts to stroke me faster. Her breathing is getting heavy, the sound of it filling the car, and I can smell her musk everywhere.
This exercise was supposed to show my control over her, but now I’m vulnerable in her hand, and I barely know which way is up.
“Finn, please,” Lily gasps, working herself and me in a frenzied motion. “Please.”
Her begging pushes me over the edge. I explode in her hand, unable to remember the last time I came so quickly.
Warmth fills my belly and spreads down my arms and legs. The relief makes me generous.
“Come,” I growl. “Come now.”
On cue, Lily’s body twitches once, twice, and then goes limp. Her stomach contracts, and she slides her fingers into herself rhythmically, smoothly.
I see the shine on them, proof of her pleasure.
She takes large, gasping breaths until she flops back into the seat, legs spread wide, a hand thrown across her bare stomach.
When she finally turns to me, her smile is shy and sated. She looks perfectly content, and the thought that she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen surprises me into silence.
But that’s okay because Lily knows exactly what to say.
“Fuck, that was hot.”
We clean off with a water bottle and towel from the duffel bag in my back seat. No one says a word. Speaking would just ruin the moment.
Lily pulls her shorts on and looks up at me. She’s not smiling, not exactly, but there’s a teasing playfulness in her gaze.
“Now what?” she asks.
I open my mouth to answer… when a bright light streams through my window.
29
Finn
Lily yelps, and I curse and fumble for the ignition, ready to speed away from whatever asshole wants to try and rob me.
Then, a flashlight taps against my window. “Roll down the window.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I roll down the window. I meet Officer Ingram’s eyes with an expressionless face. “What do you want?”
“What are you doing here, Foster?” Ingram asks, squatting down to look over at Lily. His mouth pulls into a half smile when he sees her, and he tips his hat. “Evening, Miss.”
I lean forward, blocking his view of her. “Is it illegal to park here?”
He scratches his chin like he’s thinking about it. “No.”
“So, why are you bothering us?”
“Am I bothering you?” he asks. “Did I interrupt something?”
> I sigh, bored. “Pleasure to see you as always, Ingram. Let’s do this again soon.”
He clicks his tongue and steps away from the door, nodding towards the back of the car. “Why don’t you step out and talk to me for a minute?”
“I’d rather not.”
He doesn’t bother to answer. Just walks away to wait for me at the back of the car.
“Finn?” Lily lays a hand on my elbow protectively. “Is everything okay? Did we do something wrong?”
“This isn’t about you,” I say, shaking off her touch and the bolt of electricity that came with it.
She frowns. “You didn’t actually rob a bank, right?”
Despite everything, I chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Ingram is waiting for me with a wide stance, his arms crossed over his uniform. His mustache is faint, but defined. I can’t wait until it grows in so I can give him shit about being a porn star. He’ll hate that.
“What do you want?” I ask. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m with someone.”
“Oh, I could tell,” he says, one eyebrow raised. “You better be careful, Finn. I can help you with a lot, but if you’re caught by someone else out in public, that’s indecent exposure.”
I salute him with my middle finger. “Thanks for the lesson, sir.”
Ingram’s lips flatten out beneath his mustache. “If that isn’t a good enough reason to listen to me, how about this: I’ve heard from a few different sources that you might have some answers to an assault and battery case I’m working on.”
My heart sputters, but I do my best to hide it with a shrug. “Who got battered?”
Ingram lowers his chin, looking at me from beneath his brows. “You know damn well who. If you don’t tell me what you know, I can’t help, Finn. I can’t protect you.”
“Fuck you. I don’t need to be protected.” Especially since I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything wrong. Unless you count dumping Dallas at the hospital. Which technically, the government might.
But fuck that. I didn’t kill him. Didn’t even hurt him.
He did that to himself.
Ingram sighs and lowers his voice. “Look, I had run-ins with Dallas Martin. He has a loud mouth and no sense of when to shut it. If things got out of hand and something happened, you can tell me. Plus, the Hell Princes step on a lot of toes. You and your friends have had encounters with them in the past, and if something escalated and—”
“Wow, it sure is fun listening to your theories, but I already told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let me help you, Finn,” he says.
“No, let me help you,” I growl. “You have been handing over evidence locker drugs to teenagers for over a year. Do you think I’m stupid enough not to have proof?”
Officer Ingram goes still, his eyes beady, his skin yellowed in the alleyway lights. “What are you talking about?”
I snort out a humorless laugh. “Oh, just stealing and providing drugs to a minor. If you think I’m the one in need of help, then you are way behind.”
I spin away from him and walk back to the car, my hand pausing on the handle. “Great to see you as always. Let’s do this again sometime.”
Ingram lifts a flat hand in a cold wave. I watch in the rear-view mirror as he slouches away, head down.
“What was that about?” Lily asks, looking over her shoulder when I get back in the vehicle.
I wave her away and start up the car, pulling away before Ingram can. “Nothing important,” I tell her. “No one we need to worry about.”
30
Lily
Finn said no one at school would know what the collar meant.
But I’m not so sure that’s true.
From the start, lots of people seem to think I don’t belong at Ravenlake. There’s Cora and her cronies, of course, but plenty of other people have made their feelings clear. Bumped shoulders in the hallway, snide comments as they pass by, snickers whenever I enter a room.
I tried to just ignore it.
Now, however, it hasn’t just stopped. It’s flipped completely on its head.
People stay out of my way. They step aside as I walk down the hallway. They stop whispering when I pass like they are afraid of what will happen if I overhear them.
A few have even gone out of their way to be purposefully nice. Holding doors open, stepping aside to let me pass. Just little stuff like that.
It’s odd, but not unwelcome. And after the first few weeks I’ve had at Ravenlake Prep, I’m willing to accept any friendly gesture, no matter how awkward or strange.
I’m almost ashamed to admit that I’ve started wearing clothes to emphasize the locket. Lower-cut tops with my hair twisted back into buns and braids. I walk with my shoulders back and my chin up for the first time in weeks. Months, even.
It isn’t that I’m proud to be the person Finn has chosen for … whatever the hell he wants with me. I’d prefer to fly under the radar and go unnoticed.
But since that isn’t an option, and I’m going to attract attention regardless, I’d rather attract attention as the girl no one but Finn is brave enough to fuck with.
At least being “Finn’s girl” means people leave me the hell alone.
I’m walking down the center of the hallway, the locket bouncing against my collarbone, when I see Cora walking towards me.
We have gym together, but she and her cheerleading minions have been pointedly giving me a wide berth. I suspect it has something to do with the graffiti on the wall and the meeting my mom had with Cora’s parents.
Now, however, she is walking straight towards me, green eyes narrowed into slits.
I want to turn on my heel and run in the other direction. I want to put my head down and disappear. I want to do anything other than have another altercation with her in the hallway.
Mom will not be cool if I get another detention. I can’t stand disappointing her. She’s been through enough.
But I won’t be afraid of Cora.
Not anymore.
I stand a bit taller, hug my sketchbook to my chest, and don’t deviate from my path. I keep walking, eyes straight ahead, until we are toe to toe. Until we are close enough that I can smell the sickly-sweet bubble gum scent of her perfume.
“Excuse you,” she snaps, lip pulled back in a sneer that makes it look like she just stepped in dog poop.
I blink up at her blankly and don’t make any effort to move or apologize.
Her eyes narrow further, roaming over me, sizing me up for a fight. But when she reaches my necklace, an unfamiliar expression flickers over her face.
I lay a hand on the lock, rubbing my fingers over the smooth metal. “Oh, do you like this? It was a gift.”
She quickly schools her face into an icy sneer. “It’s hideous.”
I shrug. “To each their own.”
Tired of waiting for Cora to make her move or leave, I take an exaggerated step to the right, but before I can move forward, Cora angles herself in front of me, blocking my path.
“You aren’t ready for whatever Finn has planned,” she hisses. “You are just a poor little peasant girl, and you are in so far over your head. Public trash.”
I want to laugh in her face. As if I don’t already know all of that.
I realized the night of Finn’s party that I didn’t understand anything about this world or anyone in it. I’ve been barely treading water since then. The fact that Cora thinks she is giving me new information is almost funny.
Except, it isn’t.
“Thanks for the tip.”
“It’s not a tip.” She hold up a hand to stop me, but her hand hovers a few inches from my skin like she is afraid to touch me. She drops her hand and clenches her fist. “It’s a fact.”
“I guess we’ll both find out,” I say with false cheerfulness. “Will I see you at the dance?”
Cora’s red-painted lips press together until they are almost flat. I wonder if she asked her parents to try and g
et me banned from the dance or if that was their idea.
“Well, I’ll be there either way,” I say, lifting my hand in a wave. “See you around.”
I don’t give Cora the chance to stop me again. I walk past her with a smile on my face, aware that every eye on the hallway is on me.
Cora may be right about Finn. I might not be prepared to handle him. But I just proved one thing for sure: I certainly know how to handle her.
When school gets out, I meet Mom by the dumpsters and we ride the bus back to the motel. I spend an hour doing homework and an hour sketching.
I keep glancing anxiously at my phone, waiting for it to buzz. But it doesn’t.
That’s strange. Finn usually texts. He’s been picking me up at the motel most nights. It’s even become a kind of ritual between us.
It goes down the same way almost every time. His hair is always wet from his shower after football practice, and the inside of his car smells like his bodywash.
I can’t get over the dressed-down look. Finn in sweats is a different creature. When he’s not wearing his jeans and perfectly coiffed hair, it’s almost like seeing him without his armor. It makes him seem like a real person.
At school, everyone worships him like a god amongst men. It makes him seem too big to be real.
But when we are in the confined space of his car, and I can see his hair curling as it dries over his ear, it makes everything about him—everything we’ve done together—more real.
I’m not sure what the point of the drives is. We don’t ever go anywhere. We normally don’t even leave the car.
Finn will just drive for a while, while we talk—about football and running and the people we go to school with, all of whom Finn seems to hate.
We never talk about his dad, though. I tried once, and Finn shut it down hard. He just said, “My dad is an asshole, and I don’t like to spend my time with assholes.”
And that was that. Never brought it up again.