She looked up at me through heavy lashes, her chest rising and falling against my hands that were still clutched to her supple breasts. They felt so right in my grasp. My thumbs gently slid over her pebbled nipples and her mouth popped open in response. She liked that, I noted. Filing away that information.
“I want to see these,” I said, finding her buttons. My hips were still rocking up into her despite myself. Any restraint I had was gone. Icouldn’t be certain with how dark it was in here, but I swear I thought I saw a hint of a blush staining her cheeks.
She bit down on her bottom lip and let go of my arms. I dropped my hold on her and watched with rapt attention as she undid her buttons until she got all the way to the bottom. Her fingers lingered at the opening, before she slowly pulled the fabric away, revealing her heavy, round tits. They were full and firm and perfect. The rosebud color of her nipples matched her puffy kissed lips. And her soft stomach seemed to shudder with every breath.
“Touch me. Please,” she begged and I snapped with those three words.
My hands and lips were on her, finding every part of her skin that I could. I especially liked that hollow divot that existed between her clavicle and her neck. A part of me wanted to mark her there, but I knew that any physical evidence would result in a severe punishment.
I kissed up her neck and then over to her lips, sinking deep into the feel of her.
Her hands raked down the length of my back, and I felt my balls seize up without my permission. Before I could rein it in, I was coming hard in my pants. A hot, wet sticky mess seeping into the crevices of my underwear.
“Did you just?—”
“Yeah, I… fuck. Sorry,” I said. Embarrassed was an understatement.
She shook her head, “That’s okay. I’m flattered, actually.”
“We should probably get out of here before anyone catches us,” I said breathing hard.
“Right.”
The moonlight filtered through the room giving me a perfect view of Delilah, and how fucking stunning she was. She buttoned her top and tucked her golden hair behind her red tipped ears. So, she was blushing, I noted.
I adjusted my pants but noticed the glaring splotch in the center. Delilah noticed it too and looked all too pleased with herself.
A fresh wave of humiliation sunk its teeth into me, but if she enjoyed that, then I’d wear the cum stain like a badge of honor.
We went our separate ways, but I carried the feel of her lips and theway she felt beneath my hands with me to replay in my mind all night, hoping I could find another chance to get her alone.
With how heavily monitored the school was, it was a miracle we were even able to make tonight happen. But if it happened once, it could happen again.
CHAPTER 6
DELILAH
As expected,Pastor John lost his shit. Since no one knew who the culprit was that fucked with his stuff, we all paid the price. It was worth it though. To see that smug son of a bitch who called himself a pastor, feel as violated as I felt daily. As punishment, he had us all carrying large wooden crosses across a field while the sun blared down on us in all its eighty-degree glory. The weather was in peak whiplash mode that the early spring season was famously known for. Shifting from torrential rain to boiling heat in the span of a day.
Today, I felt like I could melt right through the ground in a puddle of sweat. I was especially annoyed knowing that my skin was likely going to carry an unflattering burn after this. Lobster was for eating, not for cosplaying as, in my opinion.
The cross I carried upon my back was heavy as fuck and dug into my shoulder blades so hard I knew it would leave a mark. My fingers fought against the grain to find purchase but the sweat on my palms made it difficult. It slipped continuously out of my grip and had my trek across the field make a snail look fast compared to me.
Cain was several rows ahead of me, already near the finish line with his cross. Impressive. His blonde hair appeared nearly white in the blinding sunlight. He was a vision to look at, with those ripplingback muscles that flexed with every step. The white undershirt he wore had gone nearly translucent giving me a peek at those tattoos he had. What I could make out from this distance made it look like there were two snakes entwined up the length of his spine, with each respective head landing on either side of his shoulders. My thoughts drifted, wondering what it would be like to lick those tattoos on his skin, still remembering the way he had reacted to our little make out/dry hump session the night before.
Just thinking about it now had my thighs slickening with something other than sweat causing me to drop the cross for the third time.
Sweat dripped down my back and off my forehead as I clumsily dragged the hunk of wood with every ounce of strength I had. My knees began to buckle under the weight and my hands were slipping. I was pretty sure that several slivers had embedded themselves into my flesh, but I had to keep moving. Failure on the field meant lack of faith, and that was something I was desperately trying to avoid because that would garner Pastor John’s unwanted attention. He’d make it a point to make an example out of me, and I didn’t fancy having my ass on display and my hands tied again.
This thing with Cain, while undefined, seemed to blossom the more we were together. No one could know we were a… whatever we were, because it was a punishable offense. But something shifted between us last night that had me thinking maybe we could be something more than just friends.
I always looked forward to Chemistry every day because he was there with his ever-present smirk that made me want to do sinful things.
And even though I was sure our Chemistry teacher hated being there, she was a better alternative to Pastor John and his barbaric way of teaching. What I hated most about it, was how normalized everyone seemed to make it when what we were being put through was anything but normal. This was the kind of thing people went to therapy to recover from. Maybe I could send them a bill for the expense when I was older.
"Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to follow afterme, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me,’” Pastor John yelled out.
Pastor Big C was at the finish line, arms crossed over his expansive chest, resting on the top of his rounded stomach watching us with a bored expression.
