into my throat, a tad too far out of my comfort zone, but I fought my gagging reflex, focusing on the way he held onto my head, on the sounds escaping his throat every few moments, low moans I felt in my core. He started to face-fuck me, and I let him, since he couldn’t real-fuck me.
Maybe I should start carrying around a purse. You know, for condoms. A condom purse. Those exist, right?
The rhythm Dante carried changed within a few moments, and I knew it was the sign of his impending orgasm. His fingers tightened in my hair, pulling hard enough to make me want to moan—and I probably would’ve, if my mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied by his thick dick. His hips slammed his cock into my throat once again, and short, quick bursts of cum shot down my throat, warm and salty, a piece of him that would now stick with me through the day.
When a murder suspect, give and get head. It seemed as good of a plan as any.
Dante pulled out, breathing raggedly as he watched me wipe the corners of my mouth and get to my feet. “Fuck, babe,” he murmured, giving me a sleazy and yet still handsome smirk, “that mouth is a killer.” He was unhurried in putting himself away.
I went to go pick up my books. “That’s the only thing on me that’s a killer,” I said, shooting him a look that told him he should’ve known better. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run to first period.” He probably didn’t give a shit if he was late, but me? I had a reputation to uphold.
You know. A killer reputation.
I was out of the sound booth and hurrying along to my first period class. What would you know, the very moment I crossed the door’s threshold, the bell rang, and the teacher looked up, met my eyes and lifted his eyebrows, as if he couldn’t believe I’d made it.
That, or he was shocked I was here the day after being dragged out so unceremoniously. Wonder if anyone took bets on whether or not I’d ever show up again here. The gall of me.
Of course, the murder charges were bullshit through and through, but these people didn’t know that. They really thought I’d killed her, I bet, and Ollie had used his powers for evil and gotten me out.
As the announcements came on, I hurried to my seat, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else. I licked the corners of my mouth, hoping I’d gotten any stray bits of cum already. What could I say? I was a bit paranoid. You couldn’t blame me, not here, not after everything.
I slid into my seat, tucking my hair behind my ears as I tapped the sides of my desk. Beside me, Archer sat, his back rod straight. I didn’t look right at him, but my peripherals saw enough: his blonde hair was messy, his blue eyes narrowed at me, his mouth in a thin line and his cheeks gaunter than I remembered them being last week.
He looked like he was hardly eating. He looked, frankly, like shit.
Though the announcements were loud on the speakers, I heard him mutter, “I guess you won after all, huh?”
Archer was the last person I had to explain myself to, but at the same time, I knew he’d been through shit. Shit with Brittany, shit with his mom and his dad, shit with me. I didn’t owe him anything, and yet I knew he thought I was the reason his father was arrested. There was more to that story than I knew, because he’d mentioned something about a family nurse, but it wasn’t my place to pry, just like it wasn’t my place to explain my innocence.
“Archer,” I said, shaking my head gently.
“I can’t even look at you,” he spoke, dismissing me entirely as he turned his head away, refusing to do just that. No more eye contact for the rest of the day, apparently.
Which was fine enough. If he thought I was the root of his problems, if he thought I was the one who killed Brittany, he had no reason to hear me out or believe my innocence. None whatsoever.
I wasn’t sure why, but that hurt. Even though things had always been complicated between us, there was still that spark. That invisible string pulling me toward him even though I knew it was foolish. He’d lied to me from day one, but a part