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“Ahhh!” I let out a moan I’d been trying to hold in.
His thrusts become faster, harder, and I don’t bother trying to be quiet—not when the sound of his skin against mine when he drills into me would give us away anyway.
And I don’t care at all. Not when it feels this good, and I’m so close to coming on his cock.
“Come on, baby,” he says, reaching between us and fingering my clit. “I want to feel you squeezing my dick when I fill you up.”
I bring my head into his chest and bury my moan into his hoodie, and he fills me up while I come on his cock, just like he said he would.
“Hey,” he says breathlessly afterward. “What do you want your name to be?”
“What do you mean?”
“On your ID. What should I tell him to make the name?”
“Oh,” I laugh. “I don’t know. Something that would be easy for me to answer to, I guess.”
“Like what? Alice? Alissa?”
“Or…Devon.”
“You’re going to change your name to Devon?”
“Maybe…yeah. Just for a few months. Girls can be named Devon.”
“Okay,” he laughs. “What’s your last name, Devon?”
“North.”
He shakes his head. “When’s your birthday?”
“The day before your birthday,” I tell him as I slip back into my jeans.
He smiles and shakes his head. “So, I guess we’ll both be eighteen next week.”
“I guess so. We can share a cake.”
“What kind?”
“Funfetti.”
“Really? Not chocolate?”
“My mom always made funfetti.” I kiss him on the lips. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“I better get out of here,” he says. “I can’t believe you thought I would break up with you.”
“You’ve been acting weird lately,” I tell him. “You said you were miserable.”
“I’m just tired, Ally. I haven’t been sleeping well, either. I’ll text you later, okay?”
I nod, and he kisses me again before he leaves. After I use the bathroom, I walk past my locker and think about the amount of money inside. It gives me this anxious, uneasy feeling, and I’m sure that’s what Devon has been feeling all week.
This iswaydifferent from taking a couple hundred bucks in phones and small bills from teenagers. For the rest of the day, all I can think about is getting home and getting my money safely tucked away in the box under my bed.
It’s finally going to happen, though. The finish line has been moved closer.
I’m actually getting the fuckout.
