purposely arching my back and sticking my ass out as I stepped out of them.
“Give them to me.” His hand appeared at my side, and I placed the small piece of gray fabric in his palm.
As soon as my panties were tucked into his pocket, he reclaimed the space between us, his hands on my hips, his steel-hard erection pressing into my ass. I ground back against him, and he released a shaky breath.
“Undo the buttons of your shirt.” He kissed and licked the side of my neck, and I tipped my head to give him better access as my fingers fumbled with the buttons. Another round of applause went up in the auditorium just as I managed to get them all undone, the entire school applauding my efforts.
This was so fucked, so dangerous, doing this here, behind a door that didn’t lock, with Mr. Monroe literally feet away.
And I was loving every damn second of it.
Hendrix dragged his hands down the sides of my legs until he reached the hem of the skirt, then clasped the fabric and dragged them back up. My bottom half was completely exposed as I stood there in knee-high uniform socks and sensible black shoes, trembling with the anticipation of feeling him inside me.
As his hands continued up my ribs, the skirt fluttered back down, but then he was exposing me in another way. He seized the two sides of my unbuttoned shirt and yanked them apart, making me gasp. Almost instantly his hands were on my breasts, grabbing, kneading in rhythm with the grinding of his hips.
A soft moan escaped me, and I reached back for something to hold on to. My hands clawed at his pants—closed around the fabric at the sides of his thighs.
He dropped his right hand, reached under the skirt, and grabbed me between the legs as his left hand pushed into the cup of my bra. His fingers dug into my flesh, and he started to walk us forward.
“You’re not a good girl at all, are you?” He was panting now, his words strained. “Sneaking out to bars, keeping secrets from your friends and family, fucking tattooed men with criminal records. You like the danger, crave it, get off on the prospect of getting caught.”
I whimpered. His hands weren’t doing anything, weren’t rubbing or caressing or stroking me. I was desperate with need, my pussy clenching and relaxing, seeking some kind of relief. And his words only drove me higher.
Usually I hated it when he said things about me that were true, when he had me figured out. But in that moment, I loved every syllable. I was his, and I couldn’t wait to see what he’d do with me.
He stopped us just in front of the dead control panel and long narrow window, the entire auditorium of three hundred people visible below. Any one of them could turn around at any moment. Would they be able to see us up here in the darkness?
The prospect made arousal flood through me, wetness gathering between my legs and soaking Hendrix’s fingers.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, rubbing me up and down a few times, spreading the wetness all over my thighs. “You’re so fucking wet. You love this, don’t you? As much as you love the danger of Davey’s. Anyone could walk in at any moment and catch us. Anyone could look up and see my hand down your bra. You’re not little Miss Mead at all—you’re not a good girl. You’re a bad, bad girl, Donna. And you want me to fuck you in front of the entire school, don’t you?”
“Fuck. Yes.”
He rubbed my clit roughly, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
“Holy shit.” I panted, bucking my hips to meet the movements of his hand. “I’m gonna, I’m . . .” Already, the intense feeling was building, that inevitable pressure in my lower half.
I threw my head back against his shoulder and moaned. The sound was too loud. I knew it as soon as it escaped my mouth. Had someone heard? Shit!
The thought of it pushed me over the edge, pleasure coursing through my system.
Hendrix gripped my jaw with his free hand and turned my head, capturing my mouth with his. He kissed me passionately—tongues swiping, teeth bumping—and swallowed every sound I made as I came apart on his hand.
“Shh!” he whispered against my lips as I panted, my vision returning. But Hendrix didn’t give a fuck that my knees were going weak—he wasn’t going to