by Rina Kent
My spine stiffens, more from the touch of warm breath on my neck than from Briar’s question. In the gloom, I hadn’t noticed him moving closer. Now he’s right behind me, and the tiny fold-away desk between us is obviously not a big enough buffer to keep him away. His presence shouldn’t have put me on edge — we’re in a classroom full of students, after all, but it does, and that pisses me off.
“Fuck off, you deviant,” I whisper, doing my best not to move my lips.
Denard fiddles with the projector until it clicks and whirs to life.
True enough, the gritty title, ‘Getting High in High School’ blooms onto the screen. I grimace, and then shiver as Briar blows against the back of my neck.
“You trying to get yourself more detention?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder to glare at him.
He shrugs. “Got nothing better to do.”
“Then why the hell not just go to prison, huh?”
Even in the low light, I can see darkness flooding Briar’s eyes. He looks away, eyes now trained on the screen. Faded colors paint his face as the projector spews out its ancient lecture.
I face forward and do my best to zone out while the rest of the video plays, but less than a minute later, another breath warms the back of my neck. I stem the temptation of turning around and scowling at Briar. It won’t do any good, anyway.
Hands slide over my shoulder. They’re so big, his thumbs touch my neck and his pinkies almost don’t have enough space.
“Why so tense, Angel?”
I grit my teeth, but I force myself not to say anything.
Why am I tense Briar? Because I’m getting a fucking shoulder rub from a rapist, that’s why.
His thumbs stroke the side of my neck.
I immediately look up at Mr. Denard, but the teacher’s head is down and he’s busy on his cellphone. Everyone else in detention is either catching forty winks or busy on their phones too. Meanwhile, the video is playing so loud, I doubt anyone would hear us having a full-on conversation.
They definitely don’t hear him dragging away his desk, or bringing his chair closer to mine.
I feel him shift — there’s weight on my shoulders one second, gone the next — and then his knees wrap around my seat.
“You know what I think?” Briar murmurs as he settles down behind me. His breath stirs the fine hairs by my ear, and that makes me squirm in my seat. “I think you’re too serious.”
Serious about making you pay for what you did, yeah.
God, I wish I could just yell at him. Maybe I should go to the police. It would be my word against theirs but, fuck, it has to do something, right?
This is probably exactly what Addy had to go through all those months ago. Why she went off the rails and had to be told to leave Briar alone.
“You know what’ll loosen you up, Angel?”
His hand slides down the front of my chest. He squeezes my breast hard enough to make me bite my lip, and then his hand sinks lower, and lower, and lower.
“Losing your v-card,” he whispers, his lips touching my ear.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I should go sit somewhere else. Raise my hand and hope Mr. Denard will take my side for a change.
But if I lead him on, there’s a chance we can pick up right where we left off.
I don’t fucking know.
No, no more lies. The truth. I will squeeze it out of him one way or the other.
Briar slides his hand around my throat. I’m flung back to my episode in the tub, where the thought of him doing just this tipped me over the edge.
“Was it you?” I murmur, shifting despite myself as his other hand smooths my skirt over my thigh. “Were you in my house?”
Briar’s soft chuckle warms the back of my neck and sends another flurry of goosebumps over my skin. “What the hell are you on about?”
It must have been him. I want it to be him. And how fucked up is that? Beyond-thought fucked up, that’s what.
Briar grabs the edge of my skirt and draws it up my leg. Higher. Higher. Where his fingertips brush my skin, electric tingles crackle like branches of lightning through a stormy sky.
“You’re tensing up again.”
“Because you have your hand up my fucking skirt.”
“Relax, Angel. I can’t finger you out of being a virgin.”
I let out a soft huff, and then clamp my lips shut when his fingertips reach the seam of my underwear.
If Denard was to look up... If any of the five students in front of us happened to look back…
I shift in my seat, and grab Briar’s wrist. “Stop.”
“Why?”
“Because—”
‘Because I said so,’ suddenly doesn’t seem a good enough reason when Briar runs a knuckle over my underwear… right above my clit.
My head falls back before I can catch it, and our cheeks brush. I sit up straight immediately, blinking to force myself to focus. I squeeze his wrist hard, but he just strokes me again.
“You really don’t understand the meaning of the word, no, do you?” I say it through a soft laugh, trying to be glib, failing miserably.
He grabs my pussy and squeezes so hard I almost gasp out loud. Luckily, I seal my lips just in time and sit up real straight.
My entire body responds to that merciless grip. Where I was getting all tingly and nice, I’m suddenly aching, the feeling so close to pain I can’t decide if it’s good or bad.
“And you don’t know when to shut up,” he whispers. “I’m doing you a fucking favor.”
Heat blooms on my cheeks. I dig my fingers into his wrist until I feel wetness pooling in my nails. “Stop touching me, or I’ll scream.”
Something brushes the side of my neck, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s his mouth. A shudder races through me. I squeeze his wrist again, but he doesn’t notice. Instead, he eases up on my pussy and strokes me again.
The contrast between that fierce grip and his gentle caress makes my core clench like a fist.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
But it doesn’t matter how many times I yell that mantra in my head, it doesn’t change my body’s response.
He’s making me wet.
I don’t want him to stop.
And I know that makes me some kind of twisted enabler but for the life of me…I don’t want him to stop.
Briar
This isn’t what I’d planned. I was going to tie her shoelaces together again. Maybe push her into the wall on the way out. Whisper obscenities in her ear that I would immediately deny when she ratted me out to Denard.
But that’s the problem, see?
She’s not fighting me. Sure, she’s drawn blood from my wrist, but she could have stopped this a second after I grabbed her tit.
She wants me, and that blows my fucking mind.
Maybe she is a virgin. That’s the only explanation I can come up with. Else why the fuck would she let me grope her like this?
I move my hand away. I stop kissing the side of her neck.
She’s done it again. Somehow, this little slip of a girl’s gone and made me lose control.
I have to get out of here. Out of this classroom, away from her intoxicating aura. I have to—
Her arm trembles, and that brings me back to the here and now.
Warmth spills from her pussy. Her legs were a little open, and there’s still an inch of space between her thighs.
I could leave, but then she’d have won. Because Indi fucking Virgo doesn’t seem to understand that I have all the power here. If I want to finger-fuck her in detention, then that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.
“Open your legs,” I whisper into her ear.
When she doesn’t move, doesn’t obey, I nip her earlobe.
She squirms frantically, but a moment later there’s more space between her thighs.
“More.” When she obeys instantly, I lick the side of her neck in reward and feel her shiver against my tongue. “More.”
&n
bsp; This time, when I run my knuckle over her clit, my skin comes back damp. My cock hardens at the thought that she’s wet for me, that she opened her legs for me, that she still hasn’t brought an end to her ordeal.
Fuck, how I wish we weren’t in class right now.
The things I could do to her…
Indi
When Briar licks the side of my neck, every rational thought scatters. My body tightens and then relaxes, and my legs go as wide as they can.
I don’t give a shit if anyone turns around anymore. In fact, I’m not even here anymore. I’m on planet Don’t-Give-A-Fuck, and the weather’s bea-u-tiful.
Briar slips a finger behind my underwear, and I barely keep back a groan as he traces my entrance with his fingertips.
I can’t believe how wet I am, and that’s just turning me on even more. As fucked-up wrong as this is, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good.
Then again, I’ve never gotten to third base with a guy before. Somehow, my own fingers have never elicited this kind of a response from my body before.
I’m heating up, but my flesh feels cold and prickly.
And then Briar slides his fingers inside me.
Deep inside me.
I arch, grabbing his wrist and forcing those fingers in all the way up to his knuckles.
He lets out a muted growl right by my fucking ear. “Jesus, you’re so goddamn wet.”
I’ve got my bottom lip in a death nip. I’m so scared I’ll make a sound and get someone’s attention. No one’s paying us any mind, but fuck, all it takes is one backward glance—
“Take off your underwear.”
“What?” The word slips out in a rush of breath. “No!”
For that, he sinks his teeth into the flesh on the side of my neck. I go rigid, panicking as pain flicks through me. Did he break the skin? But when he pulls away, he leaves only a dull throb in his wake.
“Take. It. Off. Or I will.”
I slam my legs closed, trapping his hand. He pulls it out and lets out another soft, animalistic sound which I try to ignore. I lift my hips and tug my undies down my legs as fast as I can without making a sound.
“Give them to me.”
I wad the damp fabric into a ball, hesitate, and pass it to him over my shoulder.
He’s still taking it from me when his fingers wedge between my legs again. I hear him draw breath with another command, but I anticipate him and spread my legs again.
This time, he lets out a pleased murmur against the side of my neck as he slips a finger inside me.
“I like obedient little virgin,” he whispers to me. “You should let her out to play more often.”
I shudder when his thumb begins massaging my clit. His finger dips in and out, setting a breathtaking pace that has my back arching from the seat a moment later.
Lips touch the side of my neck. My jawline. I turn to him and give him my mouth as he begins strumming my clit.
His smooth, warm lips seize my mouth, drawing a mewl from me as his tongue forces its way between my teeth.
My entire body’s vibrating from his touch. Skin stretched tight, breath coming hot and fast. He tastes so sweet, so good, but I can barely stand my attention being divided between his fingers and his mouth.
He abandons my mouth for a second, our air mingling.
“Come for me, my little virgin.”
And god, his wish is my command.
He slaps a hand over my mouth a second before an explosive climax crashes into me. My back arches off the chair, and he moves with me, thrusting his fingers hard and fast into my pussy as he ekes out a final shudder with his thumb on my clit.
Then his mouth is on mine, urging a soft mewl as he tastes me hard and deep. He strokes my pussy, first soft, and then harder.
“Again,” he whispers.
The fuck? There’s no way—
But then he’s inside me again, beckoning me with a finger. I burn and I ache, my core constricting in anticipation.
“Briar, please,” I mumble.
I can’t. Not again. Not like this. Because I know I’ll make a noise, something to attract attention. And then I’ll get suspended, never mind fucking detention, and Marigold will be gloating at me as she watches me pack up my shit—
There’s a loud clack-clack-clack from the projector less than a yard away from us.
I slam my thighs closed and yank away Briar’s hand, smoothing down my skirt all in one go.
I face forward with burning cheeks and flustered breath, blinking furiously to try and focus my gaze.
Denard glances over at us, but I guess in the dark it doesn’t look like anything suspicious was going on.
“See you tomorrow,” he says, addressing the class as a whole, before heading for the exit.
He flicks on the light as he leaves.
The students in front of us stand in a rush, chairs scraping back over the hardwood floor. One or two of them glance back at me, and I hastily drop my chin to my chest.
“Stay behind,” Briar murmurs in my ear.
Another command, but this one I refuse. I shoot to my feet, grab up my books, and rush for the exit. I knock into a few students on my way out, but I don’t bother looking back.
Halfway down to the second floor of Lavish Prep, I remember I’m not wearing any underwear.
Grabbing the hem of my skirt, I keep it flattened against my leg as I do my best to run down the stairs.
I barely make it to my car in time before tears flash, hot and torrid, down my face.
Clapping both hands over my eyes, I cry myself out, fervently hoping that no one’s bothered enough to look my way.
When I’m all petered out, I push hair out of my face, drag a hand over my nose, and let out a harsh breath.
Fuck this.
I grab the steering wheel with both hands, inhale steadily, and let out a long, slow breath through pursed lips.
Briar’s just digging himself deeper in this grave of his. All of this is anecdotal — the woods, the fence, the forest, Addy’s backyard, detention.
But it doesn’t have to be just my word against his. In this day and age, proof is but a cellphone camera away.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Briar
I climb into my Mustang wearing a shit-eating grin and hum a nonsense tune to myself as I head home. I have to start getting Indi in trouble more often — especially if I can spend every detention with her.
My fuck, those sounds she made. The way she clamped around my fingers when she came…
I shift in my seat, but I don’t will my erection to fade. This time, I relish it. I don’t care how wrong it is letting myself get this close to her. I’m on a high I haven’t been since Jess—
Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head. When my eyes pop open, it’s to glare at the station wagon in front of me.
Now I get it.
When I’m with Indi, I forget that I’m a monster. That’s why I can’t get enough of her. If it hadn’t been for Addy, we could have been perfect together. But the past will always creep in and contaminate what we could have had.
My phone rings, and I answer it through my car’s Bluetooth audio system.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, bro.”
I blink. Why the hell does Marcus sound so fucked off? “Hey, man, what’s up?”
There’s a moment’s silence before he speaks and it weighs a ton. “You still coming through or what?”
Coming through…?
Fuck.
Fuck!
“Shit, man, I forgot I had detention.”
“Detention,” Marcus repeats.
“Yeah, I told you yesterday. ‘Cos of that shit with—” I cut off before I say her name, but that doesn’t make it any better.
“That’s cool man.”
I blink, mouth still open to protest. “Oh. Okay.”
What the fuck? I expected a meltdown of epic proportions.
“So you still coming through?” Marcus asks.
> “Yeah. Sure.” I glance in the rearview mirror and put on my indicator. “Be there in five.”
We’re two beers in when things start getting weird.
“Dunno what I’m going to do,” Marcus says.
We’d been talking about coach’s obsession with the 46 defense.
“About what?” I don’t look at him, instead inspecting the rows of bottles stretched in front of us.
“Brandon’s being a fucking prick.”
“He’s back already?”
Marcus shakes his head. “Called me. Wants me working this weekend.”
“This close to finals?”
Marcus runs the rim of his beer glass against the bar’s scarred surface. “Doesn’t give a shit about that.”
“He should. Your grades—”
“Mean nothing.” Marcus drags at his cigarette before crushing out the filter in our ashtray. “He told me attorneys won’t make close to what I will, working for him.”
I bark out a laugh, but my face falls when Marcus turns blackly somber eyes on me.
“Dude, what does that even mean? There’s no way you can make—”
“Not the security company,” Marcus says, his eyes and voice dropping simultaneously. He leans in. “Brandon…his money never came from the company.”
I sit back, my eyebrows lifting to my hairline. “Then where?”
Marcus shrugs a little, and then takes out his vape. He offers it to me, but I wave it away — I’m much more interested in what he’s got to say than in getting high.
“My dad’s into some dodgy shit, okay?” Marcus hits his vape again, considers it for a moment, and then slips it back into his pocket. He shakes loose a cigarette, and this time when he offers I accept. I cup my hands around it to light it, and hitch up one foot so it’s on the highest rung of the bar stool. “Dodgy how?”
“Probably best if you don’t know,” Marcus says, his eyes going everywhere except to mine. He seems nervous, but it doesn’t look as if this is news to him.
“You’ve known about this?”
“Yeah,” he says, rolling the tip of his cigarette around in the ashtray until the ash forms a peak. “Helped him before. But…” He swipes at the air with his hand.
