Punk 57

by Penelope Douglas

  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 no
tice 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. The 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.