Punk 57

And I know right then and there I want to be the only girl he ever looks at like that.

“You’re not boring,” he says softly. “You’re not average, and you’re not stuck-up. You piss me off, but you excite me.”

His face is shrouded in shadow, but I can feel him everywhere. He puts his forehead to mine, his whisper thick and heavy, spinning like a cyclone inside me. “They don’t get you and me. I know that’s what you’re afraid of. You’re perfect. I’m never in line. You’re beautiful, and I’m bad, right?”

His breath hits my lips, and I reach up and touch his hand on my face, sliding my cold fingers between his warm ones.

“They’ll never matter to us, Ryen. No one knows how this feels.”

Tears ache behind my eyes, and I breathe hard, giving into it. I slide my thigh over his lap and straddle him. I fist his T-shirt, our lips inches from each other. “If you touched her,” I cry softly, “it’s not going to be pretty.”

He nods. “I know. I’ll keep the knife in here for you.”

I laugh and kiss him, his hands falling to my hips as I press my body closer. I hold the back of his neck as I deepen the kiss, the heat of his mouth sinking to the end of every limb in my body.

But I pull away, turning my head toward the front windshield. Shit. People walk about, and I can see a couple guys in the car ahead of us, as well as a couple next to us.

Masen buries his lips in my neck, kissing and biting. “The windows are blacked out,” he mumbles against my skin. “So tinted it’s illegal.”

I turn back to him and dive into his mouth again, hearing their music and laughter only feet away, all around us, and not giving a shit. I catch a glimpse of someone passing by the truck, and I let out a moan.

He moves from my mouth to my neck again, getting greedy, and I close my eyes, holding onto him.

Coming up, he cups my face again, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “Tell me something true.”

I lick my lips, hungry and wanting his mouth back, but his eyes are holding mine. He’s not letting me off the hook.

I lean in and put my forehead to his again. “I don’t like cheese on my sandwiches,” I admit, chewing on my lip. “Bridge to Terabithia is my favorite book.” My fifth-grade teacher read it to us, and it always stuck with me. “I make jalapeno bagels sometimes, because my mom told me once that they’re my dad’s favorite.” I glance up at him to see his eyes still open and on me. “He left when I was four, and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t make them when she’s around, though.”

I press my teeth down on my lip harder, but his thumb nudges my lip back out, probably seeing how nervous I am.

“I don’t get along with my sister,” I admit, “and I don’t feel close to my mom anymore. I know a lot of it is my fault. My armor got too thick, and I stopped letting people in.” I pause and add, “Most people.”

New tears spring up, and a small sob escapes. He kisses me and pulls back just enough to rub my mouth with his. “I can’t get enough of you.”

I smile a little.

“And sometimes,” I keep going, snatching his lips in another kiss. “Sometimes I want to vomit on Lyla when I see her.”

He suddenly snorts, breaking into laughter. A wide smile spreads across his face as his whole body shakes. I kiss him again, our lips melting together.

“And last Friday night,” I whisper, nibbling on his bottom lip as I grind on him, “after the car wash…”

“Yeah?” He lowers his hands to my hips, grunting as I rub harder.

“I thought about you,” I whisper in his ear. “I thought about you when I was in bed that night.”

I feel his fingers dig into my hips, and he growls low as he kisses me again and again, breathing hard.

His lips move down my neck, and I barely notice the strap of my shirt being slipped down my arm as the heat of his mouth covers my shoulder.

He grabs the back of my neck, holding me in place as he runs his nose and mouth back up my neck, inhaling me. “Do you feel me?” he whispers, pressing my hip down hard into him. I whimper as I rub against his thickness between my legs.

“Yeah.” But then I notice something is loose and air is caressing my skin where it didn’t before. My bra. He’s unhooked my bra at the back.

The straps fall down my arms, and the side where my shirt had fallen off exposes my now bare breast. I quickly bring up my arms, covering myself. “Masen, no.”

But he comes in, kissing me, and grabs my ass, pressing me to him. “I can’t stop.”

“But people will see.”

He looks up into my eyes, nibbling my lips. “No one sees you, baby. Just me. And I want to kiss you.”

“You are kissing me.”

He gnaws my lip, his whisper thick and hot. “I want to kiss you in other places.”

Oh, Jesus.

My chest caves and heat swirls in my belly, making my clit throb and my body crave him so badly. I’ve never been this turned on.

He stares at me as he gently pulls my arms away, and he slides the other strap of my shirt off my shoulder, my loose tank top and bra falling to my waist.

“Masen,” I say nervously, trying to bring up my arms again.

I twist my head and look around me, seeing two guys stand right next to the front of the truck. But Masen takes my hands, guiding them away and shaking his head with a slight grin on his face.

Fear races through me, making my heart pound, but I’m excited, too.

“God, look at you,” he breathes out, his eyes feasting as they fall down my chest and stomach. “You have a hell of a body.”

Chills spread down my arms, and I feel my nipples tighten and harden under his gaze.

“Take me somewhere,” I say, leaning into him, “and I’ll let you kiss me anywhere you want.”

“Sounds enticing,” he says. “Maybe next time.”

Grabbing my waist, he brings me in close, forcing me up higher on my knees so that my breast is level with his mouth.

“Masen,” I gasp as he grabs my left nipple between his teeth, sending shocks through my system and right down between my thighs. “Oh, my God, we can’t.”

But he sucks the whole damn thing into his mouth, and I grip his shoulders, my eyes flutter closed and not giving a damn that half our class is right outside.

“Yes,” I whimper, losing my breath and wrapping one arm around his neck, holding him closer.

His tongue, hot and wet, comes out and swirls around the pebbled flesh of my nipple, teasing me, and his fingers dig into my skin as he goes back for more, nibbling the whole breast.

I hear laughter outside, and I try to turn my head, but Masen leans into me, forcing me to arch back as he switches to the other breast, kissing and dragging the nipple out by his teeth.

I moan, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back. “Masen, we’re going to get caught.”

But my plea is pathetic, and he knows it. He sucks hard, stretching my skin, and I want to grind on his dick so badly, but it’s difficult from this position.

His mouth and teeth explore, tugging and sucking until I’m sure I’m red, and I lean back up, letting his mouth trail to my neck and back to my mouth.

I roll my hips, rubbing on him as he kisses and nibbles down my jaw. I want to feel every inch of him through his jeans. I’m so wet.

He suddenly pulls away from me, and I look to see him pulling his shirt over his head. I briefly see the rest of the tattoos trailing up his arm and over his shoulder, as well as the few across his chest and stomach.

He pulls me to him again, pressing his chest against mine. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”

He palms my breast with one hand while slipping the other down the back of my shorts and squeezing my ass.

I gaze into his green eyes, both of us breathing hard, but I see him pause, as if he’s suddenly not sure about something.

And all of a sudden, I’m not worried about getting caught. I’m worried about him stopping.

Don’t stop.

My eyes burn with tears, and I’m so tired. So tired of holding back everything I feel and want to say. So tired of being someone I’m not and making mistakes that I didn’t have any fun making.