Page 84 of Punk 57


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I moan, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back. “Masen, we’re going to get caught.”

But my plea is pathetic, and he knows it. He sucks hard, stretching my skin, and I want to grind on his dick so badly, but it’s difficult from this position.

His mouth and teeth explore, tugging and sucking until I’m sure I’m red, and I lean back up, letting his mouth trail to my neck and back to my mouth.

I roll my hips, rubbing on him as he kisses and nibbles down my jaw. I want to feel every inch of him through his jeans. I’m so wet.

He suddenly pulls away from me, and I look to see him pulling his shirt over his head. I briefly see the rest of the tattoos trailing up his arm and over his shoulder, as well as the few across his chest and stomach.

He pulls me to him again, pressing his chest against mine. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”

He palms my breast with one hand while slipping the other down the back of my shorts and squeezing my ass.

I gaze into his green eyes, both of us breathing hard, but I see him pause, as if he’s suddenly not sure about something.

And all of a sudden, I’m not worried about getting caught. I’m worried about him stopping.

Don’t stop.

My eyes burn with tears, and I’m so tired. So tired of holding back everything I feel and want to say. So tired of being someone I’m not and making mistakes that I didn’t have any fun making.

I want to feel this. I want to get lost with him for as long as I can.

“Masen?” I put my hand to his face and lean my head into his, speaking low. “Can I tell you something true?”

He nods.

I slip my hand between us and press my hand into his cock. “I want to get fucked.”

His eyes widen, and I bite his bottom lip.

Yeah, he wasn’t expecting that.

He expels a breath, sounding shocked, but he doesn’t need to be asked twice. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he flips me onto my back on the seat, and I let out a small gasp, not sure if I’m excited or nervous. He stands up as much as he can, and hovers over me, gazing down at my body. I bite my lip, trying not to smile as much as I want to.

Reaching up, I hold his eyes as I unfasten his belt, but when I go to unbutton his jeans, he stops me.

“I said I needed to kiss you everywhere,” he reminds me, eyeing my shorts. “Take ‘em off.”

I cast a nervous glance out the window above me, seeing someone walk by. The slickness between my legs gets wetter, and I can’t help the rush of heat under my skin.

God, this is so bad.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I unbutton my shorts and slide them over my ass and down my legs. Masen gazes down at my lacy, red thong and slowly slides a finger up my thigh, under the hem of the panties, and pulls them aside, baring my pussy.

I groan at the feel of his eyes on me. Please touch me.

“Do you keep it bare like that all the time?” he asks, still staring at me.

“Do you want me to?”

He smiles and meets my eyes.

I run my hand up his chest and wrap it around the back of his neck. It’s weird. Sometimes I feel like I know him. Like, really know him. We engage so easily, and even when we’re angry, it still feels like it’s familiar. And then it hits me that I really don’t know anything about him.

“Where do you come from, Masen?” I ask. “Where are your parents? What are you hiding from?”

He stares at me, his expression turning wary. The he reaches out and runs his fingers gently down my face, forcing my lids closed. “Close your eyes. There’s nothing to see out here.”

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