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“I need to be inside you,” he grunts and moves his seat back for more room.
We’re sloppy with our actions, desperate to feel each other. I pull my skirt up until it’s under my breasts. Brandon unbuckles and pushes down his pants and boxers, freeing his hard-on. He shifts my panties, and I lower onto his shaft with ease, considering I’m drenched.
We moan together in sweet satisfaction.
Brandon recaptures my mouth as I bounce on him, making the car shake.
He squeezes me all over my body, and I do the same. We gnaw at each other’s necks, ears, lick and nip at lips, intertwine tongues. We just can’t get enough of one another.
The volcano erupts inside, and I cry out at the tsunami of pleasure that jolts me to my bones.
Brandon explodes in my channel soon after, grip tight as he spasms while climaxing.
He’s never mentioned protection, but I did catch his brief look at my birth control pills on my dresser the first time he entered my room.
Slowly coming down from the sexual high, he devours my mouth again, overwhelming me with indescribable emotions.
When our lips break apart, pure adoration shines in his entrancing blue depths as he regards me.
“Mine,” he whispers, and beneath that word, my soul discerns something else. Something beautiful.
Pressing my forehead against his, I steady my breathing and say, “We have to go if we want to have lunch and make it back in time for class.”
He smirks. “I just had lunch. I’m full for now.”
That results in giggles.
I kiss him again and climb over to the passenger side.
Grabbing napkins from my backpack, we clean up and fix our uniforms before he starts the car to leave.
The moment Brandon pulls out to the exit, a black car drives off immediately, speeding down the road. I scowl, feeling like I’ve seen that same car before.
“Um…”
“Hm?” he prods, veering onto the main road.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Classmates gush over each other’s paintings intended for a chance at the upcoming art exhibition.
I’m impressed with their work, and at the same time, sad that I won’t be able to use any of the ones I’d painted last week. Thanks to whoever decided to trash them. Fucking bastard.
At the end of class, Ms. Jung arranges the artworks at the side of the room, separating those for submission from assignments.
I retrieve a blank canvas to begin something new.
She glances at me on her way out and stalls. “Kayla, are you hanging back?”
“Yeah. I’m working on a piece.”
“Oh.” She flashes a kind smile. “Are you submitting work to be considered?”
I nod while answering, “Yes. I think the exhibition is a great opportunity.”
Delight contorts her petite face. “Good. I look forward to it.” She’s about to leave when I remember something.
“Oh, Ms. Jung?”
