Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I half-laughed against her lips, then released my dick and hooked her leg with my arm, trapping her thigh between our bodies. “Beg me.”
I sank two fingers deep inside her spread pussy, pumping until she was right at that edge, her nails threatening to break the skin. Then I stopped.
She tried to grind over my hand, but I pinned her in place, rubbing my bare dick against the back of her raised thigh. If I wanted, I could get off just like this. Just because it was her.
“That's not begging…” I smiled against her throat.
“You’re such…” She stopped to catch her breath. “An asshole.”
“And you’re still not begging…”
“Fuck. Please…” It came between uneven breaths, barely audible.
“I know you can do better than that, but….” I pressed my finger deep inside her. “Selfishly, I just want to hear you come.”
In seconds, her muscles clenched around my fingers. Her back arched against the metal wall, pussy grinding over my hand on soft moans. And that sent me over the edge.
If I didn’t bust a nut soon, I’d be one hundred percent homicidal.
“God, I fucking hate you.” I pinned her to the wall and pulled my fingers from her pussy, spreading her moisture over the head of my cock.
“I know.” She swatted my hand away, then wrapped her fingers around my dick.
I groaned when she stroked over me fast and hard. “Fuck…” It felt damn good, but it wasn’t just her perfect grip that had me two seconds from losing it. It was everything. It was just Lola.
I gripped her jaw, pressing another hard kiss to her lips when I came on a hard grunt.
Our heavy breaths filled the small bathroom. This was bad. Pimp stripe removal bad. Pussy-ass heartbreak bad. God, I was an idiot. And judging from the horrified expression on her face, she felt the same way.
“Shit…” She grabbed her shorts and pulled them on, refusing to look at me. “Shiiiit!” She yanked a piece of toilet paper from the holder, half-attempting to clean my come from her shirt before reaching for the door.
Lola took one step out of the stall before she froze.
Kyle stood by the sink, a damp paper towel to his forehead, his mouth gaping as his beady, four-eyed gaze shifted from her soiled T-shirt to my exposed semi-hard dick. Fucking sucks, doesn’t it? You shriveled up Jabba the Hutt?
I jerked my chin before fisting my dick and milking one last drop from it. “‘Sup, Sleeping Beauty?”
He puffed his inhaler before making an about-face to the wall. I snorted at the orange patches of pasta sauce covering the back of his Star Wars tank top.
Lola went to the sink and splashed water on her shirt, huffed, then knotted it to hide the stain. Without so much as a backward glance, she latched onto Kyle’s arm and dragged him out the door with her.
If he wasn’t fucking her before, he definitely wouldn’t be now… No one in the school would.
Chapter 8
LOLA
Kyle and I walked from the restroom in silence.
It wasn’t until we rounded a wall of lockers that I glanced at him, noticing he still looked a little pale. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Passing out is my defense mechanism.” Like a possum playing dead. “Are you and Hendrix…?”
“What? No!”
“But it sounded like—”
“It sounded like a moment of weakness, Kyle. That’s all.” A stupid, blissful, horrible moment of weakness.
The second Hendrix kissed me, everything went to shit. One kiss led to me coming on his fingers and him coming on my favorite shirt in a dirty men’s restroom. The same way he’d probably done with half the girls in this school since I’d left.
Hendrix and I had screwed in the theatre, the locker rooms, and even in detention that we got for screwing in the restroom. But never, not once, until now, had I felt degraded or ashamed.
I followed Kyle back to the cafeteria, ignoring the whispers and stares of everyone who undoubtedly knew I had just become the latest notch on Hendrix Hunt’s belt.
Never again. This could never happen again, even if I wanted it to. Even when every fiber of me craved him. And if the rumors were to be believed, he wouldn’t be back for seconds, anyway.
My encounter in the restroom with Hendrix haunted me throughout my entire evening shift at The Squealing Hog—not that I didn’t enjoy it. It had been literal years since I’d had anything other than a self-induced orgasm, and nothing could compare to Hendrix. Nothing. But that didn’t justify my monumental error in judgment. I’d had every intention of staying far, far away from him when I came back here, and that was for a reason. I couldn’t give in to him, and it was very hard not to give in, as proven today.
I was halfway through cutting the pan of lemons I’d been assigned as closing work when Chad slid into the booth across from me. His golden-blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin were all very shiny, Barrington. If Hendrix could have a polar opposite, it was Chad Lancaster.