Page 11 of Spin the Damn Bottle

Another one ofJason's fingers slides inside me, and starts to move in and out. “Fuck. Fuck, Jace.”

“Soon, doll. I’ll be inside you soon, I promise you that. For now, just come on my fingers while David wanks himself looking at your gorgeous cunt.”

Oh god, he isn’t…I glance at the driver again, and notice that his right arm seems to be moving. Jesus. “Do you like watching Nadia, David?”

“Very much so, sir.”

“That’s all right. She enjoys it. Don’t you, pretty doll?”

My nipples tighten under my clothes. I feel his touch everywhere, so sensitive I could cry.

I’m embarrassed and ashamed of feeling this way, but I don’t think my body’s ever been this tight, this out of control. I do enjoy watching some hot, older stranger looking at me like this. It should be wrong. It is wrong. I simply don’t care.

I almost explode, so fucking sensitive the merest flick drives me wild. I'm sure they can hear me scream all the way in my calculus class.

Jason's gaze seeks mine as he directs his mouth to my clit, sucking it.

"Jace," I beg.

His hand pumps faster and faster, while his tongue laps slowly, maddeningly, bringing me closer to the precipice, until I don't have a choice. I fall.

I think I lose it for a moment. When my head clears up, Jason's back on his seat, licking his fingers clean.

His tongue runs over his lower lip, then he throws his schoolbag over his shoulder.

"Shouldn't you get ready? I mean, if you'd like to go to school like that, I don't mind. I can just bend you over and take you as the need arises."

I'm so fucking flustered. My entire face is on fire as I crumple my clothing to my chest and rush to pull my tights on, then my skirt.

I consciously force myself not to look at the driver. David. I suppose I should refer to him with his first name, if only in my head. He's seen me getting licked out until I yelled. He’s wanked to it. It kinda feels like we should be on first-name basis after all that.

Once I'm dressed, Jason opens the door.

He doesn't even bother to say anything, confident he's made his point because I can't resist his touch.

He doesn't know me at all.

As we cross the entryway, I tap his shoulder to get his attention, get to my tiptoes and kiss the side of his face. "Thanks for the orgasm. You're still not my boyfriend, Jason. Just my sex toy.”

I wink, and walk toward my Italian class. Calculus is almost over anyway.

CHAPTER EIGHT

After a casual round of semipublic sex, my morning isutterly ordinary.

I see Sophia in Italian, and she asks me how I'm doing before class starts. The fact that she needs the update says a lot about our decaying friendship. We've texted a couple of times over the last weeks, but that's about it.

My answer's a fake smile and an even more false "fine! You look great, by the way," and thankfully, Signora Di Maio walks in, cutting the conversation short.

My energy's all over the place when I'm on my way to AP English, one of the classes I share with Jason. We have that, our lunch period, and history in common. Well, and our PE class, but like the rest of the jocks, he does endurance training with Ms. Palmer, while we plebians suffer under the guidance of Mr. Pierson, so we're rarely even in the same room. But in English and history, I can't avoid him even if I try.

I'm one of the first to arrive, before Mr. Green walks in.

Melina, already seated, squeals when she sees me. "Damn, girl! That hair isfire."

It's not the first compliment I've heard today, but at least this time I know it's sincere. Even when the entire school was bullying me, Melina was kind, so I actually trust her more than most.

"Thanks." I slide into the seat to her left. "You had a good holiday break?"