Those Heartless Boys - E. M. Moore Page 0,63

of a lion but a body of a— Honestly, I don’t fucking know. Unless that TV starts showing giant pictures of dicks, I’ve totally lost interest.

Lucas’s breath hits my skin, and I freeze right where I am. My muscles tense. All those things that boy and I did that summer, turn to Lucas and I doing them. My mind is a wonderful place to be. I’ve always thought so. The things my brain can conjure up to take me out of my everyday surroundings makes it my most precious commodity. When life was hard, my imagination kept me sane.

Lucas trails his fingertips over my thigh. My leg jumps in response. I’m barely breathing at all as he moves his hand higher and higher until his wrist brushes my stomach. My muscles tense underneath. My core ignites like an inferno just begging to be released. I haven’t been this strung up in a while.

“Dakota, you...” He licks his lips and trails off as his fingers move over the seam of my shorts until he’s cupping me. His breath comes out in a whoosh. “Jesus fuck, girl. You must be on fire.”

He traces a trail up the inseam of my linen shorts until I squirm in the seat. The desk creaks, and he stops. The muscles in his arm flex. With his other hand, he pushes my notebook onto my lap until it rests against the desk and my thighs, completely blocking anyone’s view of what he’s doing. I’ve never been more thankful to be sitting in the back corner of a classroom.

His fingers start exploring, and I grip the edge of my desk. Much surer now, he works his finger up and down my inseam, pressing the doubled fabric to the side so it feels as if he’s sliding right over my panties.

I know this is wrong, but I can’t help myself. Lucas is eye candy on a whole other level. My brain also tries to tell me that he stood next to me earlier in the cafeteria, sticking up for me. But let’s get real. That’s not what this is. This is about release, plain and simple.

“How far will you go?” he whispers, more to himself than to me.

I buck into his fingers, and he grips the desk now, pressing his lips together to keep whatever sound he was about to invest in back.

“You think because it’s dark in here, they won’t hear you scream?”

I swallow, trying to tame the beating of my erratic heart. I lift my eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try.”

Lust confiscates Lucas’s features. “Now, you really shouldn’t have said that.” He snakes his hand up, moving underneath the waistband of my shorts, slipping past my panties, and cups my sex. His fingers deftly find my clit, and I bite my lip, moving my legs wider for him.

He starts in slow swirls. For a moment, I dart my eyes frantically around the room, making sure no one is paying any attention to us. The professor is no longer pretending to watch the movie either. She’s dozing off in the corner of the room, and—

Lucas quickens the pace. My fingers are white knuckling the desk at this point as I try to rein everything in. He leans toward me, keeping his next words just from his lips to my ear. “You’re so fucking wet. I want to drop to my knees right now, in front of everyone, until you’re screaming my name. Do you think they’d mind?” When I don’t answer him, he stops. I let out a breath and glare at him. He starts in lazy circles again, my body practically begging for it. “Answer me,” he demands. “Do you think they’d mind?”

I nod because I don’t trust my voice.

“There you go,” he urges. He watches my profile, lips pouting. “I wonder what an unrestrained Dakota sounds like. Maybe I should wait.”

He starts to pull his fingers away from me, but I let go of the desk and grab his wrist. I slide my hand down his, moving him along with it until I’m pushing his fingers back on me. He swirls his fingers again, rhythmic strokes that are threatening to make me explode right here, right now.

“Look at me,” he purrs.

I close my eyes, press my lips together, and turn my head toward him. Removing all stimuli but Lucas and his fingers has me biting down on my lip. My eyelids flutter open. His eyes are everything. They’re like dark spheres in the shadowy room.

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