Page 51 of Liar

She tries to arch out of my hold, but Ember’s core strength isn’t what it once was now that she’s off the swim team. After a few attempts, she flops down. “You’re such a twisted fucker sometimes, you know that?”

“Obviously.”

Ember doesn’t give up. She wiggles, grabbing for my hair and yanking hard.

“God—fuck.” My neck cricks as she forces it at an angle. “Let go, little pretty. This is your first and final warning.”

“Nope, nope, nope,” she says through clenched teeth. Ember grips harder.

My arm tightens around the backs of her legs, holding her in place and leaving my other hand loose. The halls are deserted, most heading for the irresistible call of food and a break from school. Maybe a few teachers remain behind in the classrooms, but the doors are closed and the lockers unattended.

I smile. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Using my free hand to go under her skirt, I push aside her underwear and sink two fingers in.

Wet. Just as I suspected.

She shrieks, bucking against my grip, but that only wriggles my fingers in farther.

“Keep struggling, and I’ll stick my entire hand in, little pretty, and fist you in the middle of the Winthorpe halls.”

Ember stills. She must be sore from last night. Tender. Sensitive. She buries her face in the back of my blazer and cries out as I curve my finger and press against her G-spot.

The exposure of her pussy to the air and parting her lips release that scent I’ve been pining for since leaving her bed. It envelops my face, tickling my nose and sending saliva cascading into my mouth. I pick up the pace, more eager than before to find a vacant classroom.

I stick another finger in. Then another. That’s four fingers now. She leaks against my joints, dripping onto my school blazer and covering my palm. Ember’s scent is so strong, so sensual, that my dick demands to be a part of it, poking through the top of my pants.

Ember moans, wriggling her ass, driving my hand in deeper.

“Do you want my entire hand, little pretty?” I murmur, not expecting her to hear me.

Her hands come around my front, feeling across my belt, finding my cock…

“Argh.” I falter in my steps as she goes under my shirt and swirls my precum around the tip.

“Two can play at this game,” an upside-down Ember says, her voice tight. My shoulder’s digging into her stomach, both hurting her and restricting her breathing.

I know she fucking loves it.

Resuming my strides while peering through the frosted glass of the classrooms we pass, I maneuver my hand so my thumb gets in her pussy, as well.

Ember lets out a groan of pain. She’s only just been deflowered, and here I am, introducing her to more pain, more fetish.

I don’t ask if she wants me to stop. We’re too far gone for that. She grips my dick and squeezes, her nails biting into the flesh.

Cursing, stumbling, I shoulder through the door I’m 100 percent certain has no one in it. Professor Lowell loves his lunch breaks and refuses to re-enter his class until his students do, and therefore never locks his door.

The light’s off, but the squared-off windows let in enough light through the cascading ivy outside that I can see where I’m going. I stop at the teacher’s desk and unceremoniously pull my hand out and dump Ember on her feet.

She trips, her side butting against the desk, but gets her bearings quickly. Her palms smack against the wood. “You have a lot of nerve.”

“And you have a lot of pussy juice for me.” One by one, I put each finger in my mouth, sucking her off me slowly.

Ember’s squinting, furious glare softens, then grows hot. But she blinks, retreating and throwing her hands up. “No. I’m not doing this. I’m so tired of these games you entitled, spoiled kids play. Ever heard of normal daily life? Like eating breakfast, then going to school, then doing homework, then watching your favorite show or reading your favorite book, then going to bed? Is that so hard? Why aren’t any of you capable of that?”

“That sounds fucking boring as shit.” I press my thumb into the pad of my tongue, lowering my eyelids. “And you’re not that, either, Ember. You’re like me. You like it when I do these things to you. Hell, if we had longer to walk, you would’ve begged for my fist in your cunt.”

She winces. “Don’t say that word.”