Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,84

lube.

I watch, fascinated, as she drops her mouth back to my cock, circling the base with her left hand and sucking the tip while at the same time inserting a lubed-up finger into my ass.

“Motherfucker,” I groan, the fingers of one hand digging into the seat while the other grips Bernie’s hair with a rough, almost violent contraction. There’s no controlling myself then. The orgasm slips from me along with a guttural sound that echoes across the parking lot and I shoot a hot stream of cum into my girl’s mouth.

She stays where she is as I pulse and thrust against her and then collapse into the seat.

“I take it you liked that,” Bernie purrs as I yank my shirt over my head and offer it to her to clean her fingers off. She chucks it into the front seat and then crawls up against me, her breasts pressing against my chest as our mouths come together with a sweet heat, sultry rock music spilling out into the night.

“Thank fuck Oregon recently passed that close-in-age exemption law,” I say, still panting heavily as Bernadette trails hot kisses along the length of my jaw, pausing at the pulsing throb of my pulse. She pulls back just slightly and quirks a brow. “Romeo and Juliet law? No?”

“So you won’t get charged with statutory rape?” she queries back, and I nod. Technically, since I’m eighteen and she’s seventeen, and we’re being followed by cops, it could be bad news bear for me. “Oh, and that’s absolutely something Sara Young would do.” She sits up and combs her hair over her shoulder, her hands resting on my bare thighs.

A pleasured scream sounds from the direction of the Ford across the lot and we grin at each other.

“This is fun, having a bit of an audience,” I murmur, snatching my boxers from the floor as Bernadette scoots back, and dragging them back on. “I mean, if that’s something you’re into, we’ve got a built-in one back home, now don’t we?”

Bernie’s eyes sparkle, and I wonder if she hasn’t thought about all the fun we could get up to together. Different partners, different groups, different … arrangements. I wouldn’t mind being watched, the way Victor did that first night, when he filmed us. I’d like to do that again except, you know, without getting kicked out.

“You put your underwear back on,” she hazards, like she actually thinks I’m going to nut and run. Nah. I might’ve been a man-whore, but I was never that sort.

“Yeah, but only so I’m not flashing bare ass and getting myself arrested.” I grab her and she lets out a small gasp as I flip her body and pin her underneath me. My mouth finds Bernadette’s, sucking her lip between my teeth and biting down gently, just enough to make her squirm. “You yourself said it: if she can find a trumped-up charge to bring one of us, Police Girl will do it.”

“And why, exactly, would your bare ass be showing?” she whispers as I grin against her mouth, pressing close and encouraging her lips to part for my tongue. I’ve never tasted a girl so sweet with such an acidic mouth. Like, she can pop off like the best of the Prescott bitches, but when we kiss, and I close my eyes, I imagine that we’re just a pair of high school sweethearts from the fifties, destined to grow old together.

Feels like we could be, up here on ‘Hookup Point’, in this fifties car. Shit, even the Ford parked across the lot is from the fifties. Add in that leather Havoc jacket she was wearing, like she’s one of the Pink Ladies from Grease, and our favorite drive-in, Wesley’s. The soda fountain in south Prescott …

I break away briefly to change the music from sultry rock to classic fifties hits.

“What on earth is this?” Bernadette asks as I start “Where the Boys Are” by Connie Francis.

“Just roll with it, Blackbird,” I tell her, pushing her back onto the seat with a hand on her chest. I undo those sexy pink cigarette pants of hers—also, incidentally a fashion from the fifties—and yank them off along with her panties. It’s full dark now, the city lights sparkling in the valley below us.

You’d never know, looking at us now, that we survived a school shooting less than two weeks prior. Or that we’re in the middle of a gang war. No, up here on the Butte, everything else fades away. We’re just two