Punk 57

I haven’t spoken to Masen in almost two days. Not since Wednesday night in the library, and now it’s Friday afternoon, and he wasn’t in our first class today again. How does he just come and go like it’s no big deal? Has he even turned in any work? I’ve never seen him with books, and I’m tempted to go to the Cove and check on him. Is he even still there?

I don’t know why I care. He’s constantly getting in my face, I know next to nothing about him, and he’s dangerous for me. I’m not looking to break the mold when the year’s almost over. I’ve come this far, and I don’t want any drama. He should stay away.

But I find myself looking for him. In class. In the cafeteria. In the parking lot. Even when I go home, this small hope lights up that he’ll ambush me in my room just like that first day last week.

I want to be alone with him again. Those few stolen moments—the car, the lab, the library—they’re like my letters from Misha. Something to look forward to.

I didn’t leave any graffiti last night after swim lessons, partly because I almost got caught the night before with him and it was a good idea to back off for a few days, but also because I suddenly didn’t want to.

Masen was the release now.

And I hated that.

When Misha disappeared, and I didn’t know if he was getting my words, I started leaving them at school for people to read. It’s stupid and childish, but one day a couple of months ago, when things got to be too much, I was afraid I’d start screaming. So that night, before locking up the pool, I made a snap-second decision and took out my Sharpie. I wrote on a locker—a special message for just that person.

It was a fluke. It wouldn’t happen again.

But the next morning when I saw him read it over and over before finally writing it down and taping it to the inside of his locker, before the janitor could clean it off, it became something I wanted to do again. The messages became more frequent, bigger and louder, but never personal. Never with students’ names.

Not until last week with Lyla’s business aired on the front lawn. That wasn’t me, and it was all the more reason for me to stop. Others were following my lead now, and I didn’t want it to get any more out of hand. They’d hired security, so it was only a matter of time before they got the cameras working and someone got caught.

Especially when I’d been using washable spray-paint and only using markers on things, like metal, that could be cleaned, and not damaged, with nail polish remover. But the lawn had to be cut, since whoever did it had used permanent spray-paint, and the pressure washer didn’t work. How long before it got really destructive?

Well, it won’t fall on me. I didn’t write anything last night, and I’m not going to sneak in tonight, either. We’re all going to the drive-in, and my mom will be holding me to my curfew.

But what would happen if Masen wasn’t around anymore? What if I decide it’s too risky to keep sneaking into the school at night? Will I act out some other way?

No. Weak people have vices. I don’t need Misha, Masen, or anything else to make it through the day.

But as I walk out to the parking lot at the end of school, I can’t help but look for him again. His tall form, his dark brown hair, his green eyes that always find me and send an electric current through my body…

I was mean the other night. Again.

On the floor, in the library, after the dirty talk and the name-calling and the touching and kissing…he’d turned gentle and held me. After he made me come, and I could feel his eyes eating me up, he didn’t push me farther than that. He didn’t try to take off the rest of my clothes or climb on top of me and rush me into something I might not be ready for. He just laid there, holding me.

And I pushed him off and ran away.

I’m attracted to Masen, excited by him, and intrigued by him, but he isn’t forever. I don’t want to go to the prom with Trey, but I want to go, and Masen hasn’t asked me. I don’t even know if he’s going to be here in a week.

I’m not risking Trey and my friends for someone who’s never given the impression he actually wants me.

No matter how much I’m starting to like him.

Lyla and Ten are already at my Jeep, waiting, since we were going to go get food after school today. She stands on the rear driver’s side tire, holding on to the roll bar and yelling to someone farther away in the parking lot, while Ten sits in the back.

I toss my bag in beside him.

“Where have you been?” I hear a voice ask.

I turn around and see Trey standing in front of me. I would usually consider his navy blue T-shirt and white baseball cap attractive on him, but now I just see bare arms, void of tattoos, and boring blue eyes with boring pierced-less lips.

I want my delinquent.

Lyla hops down from the tire and stands next to me, too nosy for her own good.

“I’ve called, I’ve texted, and I don’t like being ignored,” he warns.

I look around me, lifting up my arms to see if I have anything on my clothes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have lost my dog tags,” I tell him. “You know the ones that say I’m your property, and I report to you.”

I can hear Ten’s quiet laugh off to the side. Trey’s eyes narrow to slits.

“You know,” he starts, “a little reciprocation from you wouldn’t be out of line. Especially when the whole school sees you and Laurent fucking around with each other.”

I stare at him, keeping my expression emotionless. Yeah, I’m sure the school has drawn several conclusions about Masen and me, given our arguments and the fact that they think I vandalized his truck. But Trey and I aren’t dating, and I don’t for one second think he’s not out there having a little fun of his own. I have no obligation to him, except to look nice for prom pictures.

A prom I agreed to go to when Masen wasn’t a factor.

“You can’t possibly be insecure,” I say, trying to work him. “You’re Trey Burrowes, and Masen Laurent will be walking your dogs someday.”

He stares at me for a moment and then he lets out a snort, visibly relaxing. Lyla laughs to herself, and I let out a breath.

“Did you get your dress?” he asks.

But Lyla nudges me, answering him, “We’re going shopping this weekend.”

“Good.” He comes in and takes my hips, pressing himself to me.

I don’t want him to kiss me, so I quickly turn my head, but his lips brush my forehead anyway.

I look up and see Masen.

He has his back to me, talking to J.D., but his head is turned, watching me over his shoulder. His eyes flash to Trey and then to me again, narrowing. My breathing hitches. Did he just get here? Or has he been around and I just missed him?

“I’ll see you at the drive-in tonight.” Trey’s thumb grazes my stomach, and then he gives me one last look before he leaves.

I feel crowded. Trey is demanding, Lyla’s in my business, and Masen is…everywhere. I feel his presence in the parking lot now, off to the right, like the sun burning on that side of my body.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lyla scolds. “If you don’t start being nicer, he’ll find someone who will.”

I shoot my eyes over to her, feeling them burn. “Nice, like you?” I ask. “Doesn’t look like being nice did you any good.” And I gesture over to J.D. who’s laughing with Masen.

Her boyfriend has barely spoken to her in days, probably because he knows what was written on the lawn last Friday was true—we all do—no matter how much Lyla denies it.

But then I do a double-take, it finally registering that J.D. is talking to Masen. When did they start being buddies?

“I can handle my boyfriend,” she says.

“And I can handle Trey. Thanks.”

I turn around and open the door, climbing into the Jeep. Lyla rounds the front of the car and slides into the passenger side, our little tiff still thick in the air. I wish she’d just go home. Every day is heavier and heavier with things I want to say to her, because I know she hates me. I want to call her on it, but I don’t know why. I can barely stand her, either, and there’s just as much bullshit to call me out on. Masen’s been doing it since he got here. Lyla and I are both hypocrites.

“Y’all, look at Katelyn,” Ten says, leaning up and gesturing out the front windshield.

I put my key to ignition and stop, looking up. Katelyn is talking to Masen again.

J.D. is gone, and she’s standing close to him, smiling and typing something into a phone. She then hands it to him, and he slips it in his pocket, looking down at her with all of his attention.

What?

My heart pounds in my chest, and I curl my fingers around the steering wheel, wanting to take her by the hair and pull her ass away from him. Really? Why is he looking at her like that? Why did he let her have his phone?

“Oh, God,” Lyla groans. “What is she doing?”

“She really is as dumb as a box of rocks.” Ten chuckles. “Five years from now, she’ll have four different baby-daddies. Just watch.”

My pulse rings in my ears as they laugh, but I blink, dropping my eyes.

Rocks.

Dumb. As. A. Box. Of. Rocks.

I raise my eyes, glaring at Masen Laurent. Motherfucker! That’s what he’s been calling me?

I turn my head away, so they can’t see me seething. Asshole.

Katelyn strolls away from him, looking all pleased with herself as she heads toward us.

“Did you just give him your phone number?” Lyla asks her, kneeling on the seat, one hand on a roll bar, another on the windshield.

Katelyn bites her bottom lip, trying to look coy as she holds my door and leans back playfully. “Well, I thought he might want it after last night.”

“Last night?” Ten presses.

“Yeah, I ran into him in the parking lot after cheer yesterday,” she admits, blushing as she drops her voice. “We were up late.”

She’s insinuating a lot more in those words, like she has a secret. My stomach fills with knots.

“What’s he like?” Lyla asks in a hushed voice, suddenly interested.

“Like an animal.” Katelyn grins. “I’m surprised I don’t have any bite marks.”

“Mmmm.” I hear Lyla’s soft coo.

Jesus Christ.

Katelyn walks away, smiling, and I do my best to act like I’m not sitting here, shattering right now. I want to believe she’s lying. He wouldn’t go for her. He’s not after a quick thrill, is he? He wanted me in the library. Me. He wouldn’t forget that. Not so soon.

But… He did say he knows where to go to get what he wants.

Like an animal. The biting, the roughness, the way his eyes and hands and mouth take what they want… She described him perfectly.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I feel nauseous.

“Well, I guess there’s something to be said for the bad ones,” Lyla muses, watching Masen climb into his truck. “And that piercing? I’ll bet it feels good. Everywhere.”

Ten squeezes my shoulder from behind, and I snap back into focus, uncurling my fingers from the wheel. My knuckles are as white as snow.

“Let’s go eat and raid my mom’s liquor before the drive-in,” he tells me. “Lyla’s driving tonight, so I’m getting wasted.”

Yeah, I don’t think I can eat.

But watching Masen take off out of the parking lot, probably going to do who-knows-who, I might just take a drink.

Friday nights at the drive-in are just an excuse for every teenager with a car in Falcon’s Well to hang out in one place. Especially since it just opened back up a few weeks ago in time for spring. The weather’s nice, there’s a concession stand with food, car stereos blast music, and I doubt even a quarter of the people here are even watching the movie tonight.

One of those stupid nouveau slasher flicks with lots of gritty pain and an ambiguous ending, I’m sure.

After dinner, I’d gone home and changed into some jean shorts and a tank top before Lyla and Ten swung by to pick me up.

Trey arrived with J.D. just as we got here, all of us parking up in the front row. They started making the rounds, going off to talk to different people and hang out, while I headed for the concession stand. My mom doesn’t let us drink our calories, so the movies is one of the only chances I get to have a Coke.

I walk inside the concession area and move down the line, grabbing a cup and filling it with ice.

“You dropped this the other night,” a smooth voice says.

I jerk my head up to see Masen, standing right at my side. Butterflies take off in my stomach.

I look down to see him holding out my inhaler and then quickly glance around, making sure no one is watching. I snatch it out of his hand and slip it into my pocket. Shit. I must’ve left it on the library floor after we…

I turn back to the soda machine, not saying anything as I fill my drink up and secure the lid.

“How’ve you been?” he asks.

But I refuse to engage. I take my drink and move down the line, grabbing a straw and flexing my jaw in anger. Images of Katelyn, half-naked with her legs wrapped around him as he lies on top of her on the backseat of his car, flood my mind. I tap the straw on the counter, trying to unsheathe it from its wrapper, but it snaps and breaks instead.

I toss it in the trash can and grab another. How could he look down at her and want her over me? How could he kiss her? Does it even matter who it is? I thought he was different.

“You heard, didn’t you?” he says, following me as I pick out candy. “I’m glad. I wanted you to hear.”

I bend down and pick up a bag of Sour Patch Kids. “No one cares what you do, loser.”

He takes a step closer. “You have a boyfriend,” he points out, shrugging. “Katelyn’s got a hell of a body, she’s good in bed…”

My fingers curl around my paper cup, the lid pops off, and Coke overflows, spilling all over my hand.

Dammit.

He snorts, and I scurry, grabbing napkins and cleaning myself up.

Good in bed? The thought of him enjoying her—touching her—makes me want to shove a rubber dick up his nose.

Asshole.

And I do not have a boyfriend. I have a prom date.

He leans in, his voice full of self-satisfaction. “You’re jealous.”

I fix the lid back on the drink, throw the soiled napkins away, and turn to him, my eyes burning. “Rocks?” I bark, changing the subject completely to avoid the one we’re on. “Dumb as a box of rocks? Are you kidding me?”

He breaks into a laugh. “It took you long enough.”

“Don’t you ever call me that again!” And then I dart my eyes to the side, seeing a couple of girls from school cast us curious glances. I lower my voice. “And I’m not jealous. I just don’t appreciate you filling me in on all your sleazy bullshit.”

He takes a step closer, putting us chest to chest with both hands on the counter at my sides, caging me in. “And I don’t like him touching you.” He scowls down at me.

He must be referring to the parking lot today when he saw Trey kiss my forehead.

I reach over and grab a popcorn box, tipping it over and shaking it to show that it’s empty. “Here you go.” I shove it at his chest. “All the fucks I give.”

And I push through his arm, taking my drink with me.

“Hey. Everything okay?” someone asks.

I look up, seeing Ten as I approach the register. I pause, seeing his gaze flash between Masen and me as he holds his silver water bottle, which I know is filled with rum and Coke.

Ignoring his question, I glance back at Masen. He tosses the popcorn box to the counter and walks toward me, holding my eyes as he glares down. I feel the heat coming off his body, but I stand tall, daring him to even try to pick another fight. He’s a jerk whose only kick in life is to make mine miserable.

He doesn’t say anything, though, and keeps walking out the doors.

After he’s gone, Ten exhales a long sigh and turns back to me. “In case you’re still trying to figure it out,” he says, “he wants you bad.”

I turn away, unable to shake the desire to go pick another fight. He wants me bad? Well, he certainly doesn’t look like he’s suffering with need. Not at all.

I pay for my drink and candy and head out of the stand with Ten. He heads for a group of guys at a convertible, while I walk through the cars toward Lyla’s BMW up front and try not to look for Masen. The sky is black now, but the screen is shedding lots of light, and I hear the crickets buzzing in the grass out in the distance. I spot Trey standing by his car, flirting with some girl.

Awesome.

I keep walking, but I stop when I pass a big, black truck. Masen’s.

I glance around, finding him over by his new friends, including J.D., talking and laughing. People loiter about, caught up in their conversations, and no one is looking at me. I stare at the truck, suddenly feeling inspired.

Holding back my smile, I set my drink and snack on the ground, next to the tire, and open the back door on the driver’s side, quickly climbing in. I shut the door and immediately notice how dark it is inside. I hadn’t noticed that the afternoon at the car wash. The windows must be heavily tinted.

The leather interior shines black, just like the paint on the outside, and it smells heady and rich, intoxicating, like him. I lick my lips, leaning up and opening his console between the front seats, looking for something to write with.

I sift through change, a few receipts, and some tools. I see a pen and pull it out, clicking the top to load it and scribble on my hand.

Black.

Everything in here is fucking black. Anything I write won’t show up. I dig back inside the console and my fingers curl around something long with a grip on it. I pull it out, seeing that it’s some kind of pocket knife.

My heart starts beating faster. He’s a prick, but I’m not quite sure I want to get that destructive. Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” starts playing in my head.

I pinch the groove on the dull side and unsheathe the blade, jumping when it snaps out. The curve is scary and intense, and I hold it up, studying it and wondering if I really want to leave him what’s sure to be a very expensive message.

And then I think about Katelyn straddling him on this very seat, riding him, and I want to do a lot more than just cut up his truck.

But the door suddenly opens, and I jump, seeing Masen step up and come right for me, slamming his door shut.

I gasp, tossing the knife up to the front and twist around, yanking the handle of the other door.

It opens, but he grabs it and pulls it closed again, pushing down the lock.

The truck is dark again.

His arms come around me, and I gasp as he hauls me back against him, holding me as I struggle.

“Get off me!” I yell, trying to get free.

“Were you jealous?” he growls in my ear, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Were you mad you could be so easily replaced? Is that why you’re in here, trying to do some shit to my car?”

I jerk, trying to twist out of his hold.

“Get over it,” he says. “A pussy is a pussy, after all, and if I don’t get it from you, I can get someone else with a lot less hassle.”

Dickhead. Of course I’m no one to him. I’m not even surprised.

I struggle loose, but he pulls me tight again, taunting, “If it doesn’t bother you, then you shouldn’t want to run away.”

I breathe hard, a cool sweat breaking out on my neck. I stop struggling and calm my breathing, forcing my tone even. “Let me go now.”

His arms relax around me, and I slide away from him, reaching for the handle.

But he reaches out and grips the door, holding it closed. “I didn’t think about you at all when I was in bed with her last night,” he tells me. “She was hot, she turned me on, she liked my hands on her, and I liked how she felt…” His breath falls across my hair, his words cruel and unforgiving. “She wasn’t average or boring or stuck-up. She excited me.”

My bottom lip shakes and tears fill my eyes. But I tense every muscle in my body, trying not to let him see. Stuck-up. Average.

Boring.

“Tell me you’re jealous,” he demands.

“If it doesn’t bother me, why would I be jealous?”

He leans closer, and I can feel his body at my back and his lips next to my ear. “Tell me you’re trying not to think about how much I loved fucking her. Tell me something true, and I’ll let you leave.”

Something true? Tell him what? What does he want to hear? That this hurts? That I loved kissing him the last time we were in here and every time after that? That I don’t want anyone touching him? Screw him. I’m not saying any of that shit.

“You can’t, can you?” His voice is quiet and almost sad. “You can’t talk to me.”

And then I watch through blurry eyes as he leans up and exhales on the window in front of me, fogging it up to draw a word with his finger.

FEAR.

I shake my head.

Alone, Empty, Fraud, Shame, Fear… What is he doing? What does that mean? A tear spills over, and I growl out a breath, wiping the word off the window.

“You’re a prick. Just stay away from me.”

I go to open the door, but he grabs my hand.

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

I freeze, turning my head just an inch. What?

“I lied,” he tells me. “I asked her out for food yesterday to make you jealous, and today, when she insinuated shit that didn’t happen, I let her. But I didn’t touch her.”

The heat of his breath hits my neck, and I can tell his head is bent to my hair.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want anyone else. I only think about you.” He pauses, his voice shaky. “I think about you all the time, Ryen.”

Me.

“I’m sorry,” he continues. “I had to push you. I wanted to know.”

I turn my head, glaring at him through my tears. “You didn’t touch her?”

He shakes his head.

I swing my hand to hit him, but he grabs it and pulls me into his lap, taking my face in his hands. “I had every right to,” he bites out, “especially since you’re still letting Fuckface drool all over you while making me hard as a rock for a damn week.”

I bite my bottom lip, trying not to cry. I never cry in front of them.

“You turn me on.” He cups my face, brushing my hair away from my eyes and a tear off my cheek. “God, you turn me on. You’re driving me crazy. I want you to need my hands on you. Do you?”

I hold his eyes, seeing the pleading in his. Seeing, for the first time, the need. He’s desperate to hear me say it.

And I know right then and there I want to be the only girl he ever looks at like that.

“You’re not boring,” he says softly. “You’re not average, and you’re not stuck-up. You piss me off, but you excite me.”

His face is shrouded in shadow, but I can feel him everywhere. He puts his forehead to mine, his whisper thick and heavy, spinning like a cyclone inside me. “They don’t get you and me. I know that’s what you’re afraid of. You’re perfect. I’m never in line. You’re beautiful, and I’m bad, right?”

His breath hits my lips, and I reach up and touch his hand on my face, sliding my cold fingers between his warm ones.

“They’ll never matter to us, Ryen. No one knows how this feels.”

Tears ache behind my eyes, and I breathe hard, giving into it. I slide my thigh over his lap and straddle him. I fist his T-shirt, our lips inches from each other. “If you touched her,” I cry softly, “it’s not going to be pretty.”

He nods. “I know. I’ll keep the knife in here for you.”

I laugh and kiss him, his hands falling to my hips as I press my body closer. I hold the back of his neck as I deepen the kiss, the heat of his mouth sinking to the end of every limb in my body.

But I pull away, turning my head toward the front windshield. Shit. People walk about, and I can see a couple guys in the car ahead of us, as well as a couple next to us.

Masen buries his lips in my neck, kissing and biting. “The windows are blacked out,” he mumbles against my skin. “So tinted it’s illegal.”

I turn back to him and dive into his mouth again, hearing their music and laughter only feet away, all around us, and not giving a shit. I catch a glimpse of someone passing by the truck, and I let out a moan.

He moves from my mouth to my neck again, getting greedy, and I close my eyes, holding onto him.

Coming up, he cups my face again, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “Tell me something true.”

I lick my lips, hungry and wanting his mouth back, but his eyes are holding mine. He’s not letting me off the hook.

I lean in and put my forehead to his again. “I don’t like cheese on my sandwiches,” I admit, chewing on my lip. “Bridge to Terabithia is my favorite book.” My fifth-grade teacher read it to us, and it always stuck with me. “I make jalapeno bagels sometimes, because my mom told me once that they’re my dad’s favorite.” I glance up at him to see his eyes still open and on me. “He left when I was four, and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t make them when she’s around, though.”

I press my teeth down on my lip harder, but his thumb nudges my lip back out, probably seeing how nervous I am.

“I don’t get along with my sister,” I admit, “and I don’t feel close to my mom anymore. I know a lot of it is my fault. My armor got too thick, and I stopped letting people in.” I pause and add, “Most people.”

New tears spring up, and a small sob escapes. He kisses me and pulls back just enough to rub my mouth with his. “I can’t get enough of you.”

I smile a little.

“And sometimes,” I keep going, snatching his lips in another kiss. “Sometimes I want to vomit on Lyla when I see her.”

He suddenly snorts, breaking into laughter. A wide smile spreads across his face as his whole body shakes. I kiss him again, our lips melting together.

“And last Friday night,” I whisper, nibbling on his bottom lip as I grind on him, “after the car wash…”

“Yeah?” He lowers his hands to my hips, grunting as I rub harder.

“I thought about you,” I whisper in his ear. “I thought about you when I was in bed that night.”

I feel his fingers dig into my hips, and he growls low as he kisses me again and again, breathing hard.

His lips move down my neck, and I barely notice the strap of my shirt being slipped down my arm as the heat of his mouth covers my shoulder.

He grabs the back of my neck, holding me in place as he runs his nose and mouth back up my neck, inhaling me. “Do you feel me?” he whispers, pressing my hip down hard into him. I whimper as I rub against his thickness between my legs.

“Yeah.” But then I notice something is loose and air is caressing my skin where it didn’t before. My bra. He’s unhooked my bra at the back.

The straps fall down my arms, and the side where my shirt had fallen off exposes my now bare breast. I quickly bring up my arms, covering myself. “Masen, no.”

But he comes in, kissing me, and grabs my ass, pressing me to him. “I can’t stop.”

“But people will see.”

He looks up into my eyes, nibbling my lips. “No one sees you, baby. Just me. And I want to kiss you.”

“You are kissing me.”

He gnaws my lip, his whisper thick and hot. “I want to kiss you in other places.”

Oh, Jesus.

My chest caves and heat swirls in my belly, making my clit throb and my body crave him so badly. I’ve never been this turned on.

He stares at me as he gently pulls my arms away, and he slides the other strap of my shirt off my shoulder, my loose tank top and bra falling to my waist.

“Masen,” I say nervously, trying to bring up my arms again.

I twist my head and look around me, seeing two guys stand right next to the front of the truck. But Masen takes my hands, guiding them away and shaking his head with a slight grin on his face.

Fear races through me, making my heart pound, but I’m excited, too.

“God, look at you,” he breathes out, his eyes feasting as they fall down my chest and stomach. “You have a hell of a body.”

Chills spread down my arms, and I feel my nipples tighten and harden under his gaze.

“Take me somewhere,” I say, leaning into him, “and I’ll let you kiss me anywhere you want.”

“Sounds enticing,” he says. “Maybe next time.”

Grabbing my waist, he brings me in close, forcing me up higher on my knees so that my breast is level with his mouth.

“Masen,” I gasp as he grabs my left nipple between his teeth, sending shocks through my system and right down between my thighs. “Oh, my God, we can’t.”

But he sucks the whole damn thing into his mouth, and I grip his shoulders, my eyes flutter closed and not giving a damn that half our class is right outside.

“Yes,” I whimper, losing my breath and wrapping one arm around his neck, holding him closer.

His tongue, hot and wet, comes out and swirls around the pebbled flesh of my nipple, teasing me, and his fingers dig into my skin as he goes back for more, nibbling the whole breast.

I hear laughter outside, and I try to turn my head, but Masen leans into me, forcing me to arch back as he switches to the other breast, kissing and dragging the nipple out by his teeth.

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. Then 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.”

What?

But then I feel his tongue gliding up my slit, and I gasp, my entire body tensing. “Oh, God.”

He licks me up and down slowly, dragging his tongue up my pussy and over my clit, and then latches onto my nub, sucking it hard into his mouth.

I arch my neck up, breathing hard as I watch him. He groans, swirling his tongue around me, and then tugging my clit out between his lips and going back for more—licking, sucking, and nibbling.

The pulse between my legs throbs, and I feel warmth at my entrance as I get wetter and more ready for him.

He pushes up one of my knees, opening me up and starts going at me harder and faster, more greedily. His tongue licks, his teeth grab and tease, and then he covers me with his mouth, sucking and working my clit until I cry out.

“Please,” I moan. “Ah…”

He reaches up and clamps a hand over my mouth, still eating me, and I shoot my eyes up, seeing Trey right above me.

I stop breathing for a second, my eyes widening. He stands right outside the rear passenger side door, calling to someone.

Oh, shit.

“Damn, Trey,” Masen says, smirking up at me and flicking out his tongue to lick me. “Your girl’s pussy is so tight.”

I pull away from his hand on my mouth. “Shut up!” I whisper.

He licks and sucks me again. “Thanks for letting me borrow her, man.”

And then he dives in, finally sliding his tongue inside me and penetrating.

I suck in a breath, whimpering, and he covers my mouth again as he moves his tongue inside and works my clit with his other hand.

I roll my hips, trying to meet him—trying to get deeper—as my breasts sway back and forth with the small movements. I grab the back of his neck, holding him to me, feeling the tingling where his tongue touches build and build until every muscle in my body contracts so tightly it burns.

“Yes!” I cry out behind his hand.

My orgasm explodes, spreading up through my stomach and down my thighs, and I throw my head back, staring in horror at Trey and some guy standing right there above me. I slam both of my hands over Masen’s on my mouth, moaning into them and hoping no one can hear me through the doors.

My chest rises and falls, the incredible feeling wracking through my body, up to my head and down to my feet.

Masen lowers his hand, palming my breast before letting go. He rises up and leans over me, putting a hand on the door behind me to hold himself up as he unbuttons his jeans. My heart picks up pace again.

His hard eyes stare down at me, filled with lust. “Take off the thong, or I’m ripping it off.”

I glance up nervously, afraid of getting caught. What if the truck rocks?

He reaches into the pocket on the back of the front seat and pulls out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth. He has condoms back here?

I narrow my eyes, glaring up at him.

He meets my stare and just laughs. “Don’t worry. You’re the only girl I’ve had back here.”

Then why do you keep condoms in the backseat of your truck? Just in case?

He reaches into his jeans and pulls out his cock, hard and ready, and I lose my breath, watching as he rolls the condom on.

I put my hands on his chest, not sure if it’s because I want to touch him or because I’m scared. I’ve only done this once, and it was two years ago. It was a mistake.

But it feels like the first time again, and I’m nervous.

He stops, looking at me. “Take it off,” he whispers. There’s pleading in his eyes.

I lick my lips, breathing hard and my pulse racing.

I reach down slowly, a nervous shake to my body as I slide my panties off and let them drop to the floor. I want him. There’s no harm in letting him feel me for just a little bit, right? I’ll make him stop and take me somewhere else soon.

“Just for a minute, okay?” I plead, reaching back up and caressing his chest. “And then we have to stop.”

A smile curls a corner of his mouth as he lifts my knee, his thick cock pressing between my legs.

“Just for a minute,” he promises. “And then I’ll stop.”

Thrusting his hips slow and steady, he reaches down and works his cock inside me. I groan, feeling myself stretch as he sinks into me, going deeper and deeper and burying himself to the hilt.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, his face twisted in pain as he stills. “Ryen…”

He breathes hard, lowering his body, my nipples brushing his chest. I shudder, savoring the feeling of his tip rubbing my spot, and without thinking, I bend my knees up more and spread my legs wider.

Just for a minute.

He kisses me, and I barely have time to adjust to him before he pulls out and thrusts back in, stretching me so good.

“Oh, God.” The sounds of the movie play in the distance, and I hear the muffled voices of people not far off.

But all I see is him. His lips hovering over mine, his breath warming my skin, his fucking that’s getting harder and faster as he thrusts between my thighs.

I look up, seeing his hand still gripping the door, the muscles in his arms bulging and tight.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

I drop my eyes back down as I lick his piercing and hear him growl under his breath.

The truck creaks with our movement, and I whimper, digging my fingers into his hips as he moves in and out of me. “The truck will rock,” I say, worried. “We have to stop.”

But he just groans, fucking me harder. My breasts bounce back and forth, and I gasp at the pleasure of him filling me. I pull him deeper with every thrust, rolling my hips to fuck him back.

“Masen,” I beg, licking and biting his neck and feeling myself coming again. “It feels so good.”

He slides a hand under my ass and nestles in deeper, grunting as he fucks me rougher. I hear a noise underneath us, from the truck, and I cast a worried glance around. “Go slow!” I plead. “The truck…”

But he growls and comes down, kissing and biting my lips. I slide my hands down, gripping his ass and keeping him close, and he thrusts his dick inside me again and again.

“Yes, yes,” I moan over and over, feeling another orgasm crest as I taunt him with quick, little kisses.

“Masen, is the minute over yet?”

“Almost, baby.” I hear the humor in his voice.

His cock nudges me deep inside, and I cry out, breaking loose and coming as my pussy clenches around him, holding him too tight.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, putting a hand over my mouth and thrusting inside of me faster.

He pushes in one more time and stops, his body shuddering under my hands, heavy breaths and groans fanning my ear.

I run a hand up his back, feeling his sweat as I close my eyes. My head is in a fog, and the inside of the truck is spinning.

The orgasm seeps down every limb, and I feel tired and happy and sad. I don’t want it to be over.

But holy shit. We shouldn’t have done that here.

He relaxes on top of me, his hand still holding the door and his head bent to my shoulder. I stay there, still and quiet.

I don’t even want to look outside to see if anyone noticed. Like I really thought we could stop once we started?

He raises his head finally and looks down at me. I smile small, wishing we were parked in the forest somewhere. Somewhere we could stay all night and do that some more.

His eyebrows pinch together, and he looks like he’s searching for words. “Ryen, I…”

“What?”

But he remains silent.

I touch his face, but he just shakes his head and looks away. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

Fine? A chill brushes across my skin.

What’s fine?