Page 81 of Defiant
Dante was slow to withdraw his hand from me, and I watched him bring it before his face. It took me a moment to realize what he was doing: smelling me. Smelling my wetness on his fingers, and he must’ve liked the scent, for he was grinning like a madman.
He leaned toward me, his lips hot on my cheek as he whispered, “I can’t wait until my tongue unravels you like that.”
A warm chill swept over me. Oh, fuck, yeah, I couldn’t wait for that, either.
“Now,” Dante added, and I watched him rub a hand over the bulge in his jeans, “unless you want to help me out with this, you should get back to your friend.”
Oh, I could help him out, but I knew if I did, if I touched that cock right now, I’d only get other ideas. Ideas which would only lead to bad things. Straddling Dante here and fucking him like an animal would draw some attention.
Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I got up. As I adjusted my leggings to make sure everything was in place, I saw he’d already undone the button on his jeans and had his hand stroking his length.
Was he really going to…
Of course he was. He was Dante. I should know better than to question him on that.
I said nothing, turning around and heading through the darkness. I found myself back in my seat within a minute, and Bobbi leaned against me to whisper, “Only one more group to go. You’re lucky you missed most of theirs. I’m not a fan of the Italian songs Ms. Haber makes them sing.” She stared at me quizzically, as if remembering I’d been gone for a while. “Where’d you go?”
“Bathroom,” I said.
She gave me a look, like she thought she knew. Like I meant I had to drop a number two or something. Bobbi had no idea I was in the back with Dante, getting felt up and pushed to orgasm.
She also had no idea Dante was back there, jerking off—but that was probably a good thing. I wanted to be the only one who knew, as I should be. That erection was mine. It had grown because he’d touched me.
Was it strange to call dibs on a hard cock? Probably, but at this point, I didn’t care.
As I sat there, as the all-girl choir group left the stage and the final group took their place—this an all acapella group—I couldn’t help but imagine Dante back there, his hand in his pants, rubbing one out. It was a thought that shouldn’t have brought me so much pleasure, but it did. I thought about him all throughout the last performance, and when I heard someone getting up in the back of the auditorium, I had to stop myself from glancing back to see if it was him.
It was. Dante must’ve finished himself off, buttoned his pants, and got up, headed for the nearest exit. My eyes followed him near the door, and I wished I could go with him, make him not as lonely in that motel room…but being here with my mom and Ollie, I really couldn’t.
Dante left without a word or a wave, and I felt a surge of sadness wash over me when he was gone. I shouldn’t care for him, but I did. I did, even though I knew it would be to my detriment. A guy like him never stuck around, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to go anywhere with him, regardless of what he thought.
Ms. Haber got on the stage after the last group was finished, always having something more to say. She made a few more corny jokes that, even though I didn’t want to, I found myself laughing at. Ms. Haber did a bow for herself, and every single person in the audience applauded.
Soon after, the lights above us snapped on in the auditorium, almost blinding. Everyone got up at once, the other choir kids near Bobbi and I hurrying to get back to their families and get out of Midpark High.
Bobbi followed me to my mom—and to Ollie, since they were beside each other.
“Bobbi,” my mom exclaimed, rushing to hug her as if she was proud of her. As the other parents and kids began to exit the auditorium, my mom threw a look around after the hug ended. “You did wonderful up there. Where are your parents? I’d love to meet them—”
Ah, whoops. I never told Mom that Bobbi’s mother was out of the picture.
“It’s just my dad now,” Bobbi spoke, forcing a smile. “And he couldn’t make it tonight. There was an emergency with work.” She shrugged.
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry,” Mom was busy saying, as if her heart hurt at hearing that. She glanced at Ollie, who stood stoically beside her. “Why don’t you see if you can come over for a bit? I can make you girls some dessert or something—provided it’s okay with Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
Ollie actually touched my mom’s upper back and whispered, “Oliver. I told you many times now Oliver is fine.” He met Bobbi’s stare, nodding once. “And she’s welcome at the house, of course.”
I wasn’t surprised he’d say that. I did think he’d been lonely in the house before my mom and I had come.
“Thank you,” Bobbi said, grinning. “Let me grab my stuff and call my dad to let him know.”
As she disappeared, my mom moved beside me, hugging me as she did Bobbi. “I’m glad you stuck with choir,” she told me. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I laughed. “It was miserable, actually.” Even my deadpan didn’t work out so well, mostly because right then my mind went back to Dante, and what he’d done to me in the top row of the audience. My body warmed as a result.
Miserable wasn’t quite the word for it.
Bobbi ended up coming over, and she stayed over till about one in the morning. Mom made us some cookies and we camped out in my bedroom. It was nice—I was able to let go and laugh, even share some funny stories from my old school and my old friends with her.
