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“Hey, do you want a ride?”
Exactly like this.
“Did you come all the way back to the school just to wait here to ask me if I wanted a ride?”
“Yeah,” Devon says, shrugging.
“I can’t. I have to take the bus.”
He takes a couple of slow steps toward me, closing the space between us. I take a step backward and run into a parked car. “My car’s right there,” he says, nodding over my shoulder.
“Why are you doing all of this?” I ask. “You shouldn’t do this. I mean, didn’t you hear Darci? I’m a waste of time.”
“Hmm…I don’t think so.”
“What do you want, Devon?”
“I told you what I want—swimming, remember? You said you did, too.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I tell him.
“Yeah? Why’s that?” He takes another step forward, effectively eliminating the remaining space between us. One hand settles on my hip while he leans on the other against the car.
All of the air leaves my lungs.
“Well?” he presses.
“I don’t even…I don’t know if I like to be touched anymore,” I say.
“Do you want to find out?”
My eyes dart around the empty parking lot.
“No one is watching,” he says. “We’re alone.”
I manage a slight nod.
“Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close them,” he says again.
I close my eyes and wait for what feels like minutes before I feel lips softly kiss each of my eyelids—the right first, then the left—before trailing down my jawline and over to my earlobe. I lock my arms tightly at my sides as he sucks it into his mouth and runs it through his teeth. I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time low in my gut, something I wasn’t sure if I could feel anymore, and it’s almost a relief. When his mouth moves to my neck, I gasp, embarrassed when I hear the sound, but that feeling—that ache between my legs—doesn’t really give a shit.
Eager to have him closer, my hands reach out, each grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him into me. His lips move to my mouth when I do, finally kissing me, tasting me. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, circling and teasing my own. The hand on my waist runs over the curve of my ass, then continues to dip lower. His fingers graze my pussy through my thin running shorts when his hand moves to grip my inner thigh, using it to hitch the leg up around his waist.
I feel the ridge of his hard cock press between my legs and moan against his mouth. He rolls his hips into me, eliciting a low rumble from his throat, and I just want more—more of this feeling I forgot, more of that sound, more of him. With my back firmly against the car, I push up onto the tip toes of the one foot that remains on the ground and move my hands to his ass, bringing him closer, spurring him on as he grinds his dick into me.
I hear the bus pass the stop, and I don’t give a fuck.
His hand moves under my shirt, then inside my bra, his thumb circling my nipple while the other still holds me firmly in place as he rubs his cock into my clit. He pulls his mouth away from me and stills, still pushing into me, and I want to fucking scream.
“Seems like you still like being touched to me,” he says, leaning in and kissing me again. “Actually, it sounds like you’re about to come on my dick through those tiny ass shorts. Are you?”
Yes.
I stare at him with lips parted, breathless, but don’t reply. Surely, he knows the answer to that question, anyway. If he were to touch me right now, he’d probably be able to feel how wet I am right through thesetiny ass shorts.
