Page 50 of Revenge At Raleigh High
I know perfectly well that he’d drop down onto his knees underneath our desks and get to work if I’d let him. I wriggle against his hand, unable to escape the pressure building between my legs. Alex knows exactly how to touch me. The small, tight circles he rubs against my pussy are designed to make me squirm, and they’re doing their job perfectly. I feel like I’m floating up out of my chair and being driven down into it at the same time. This is too much. Too, too much…
Mr. French won’t just escort us in to see Darhower if we get caught. This kind of public indecency is usually dealt with by law enforcement. I can’t bring myself to really care, though, as Alex dips his fingers inside of me for the first time and I slide down in my chair, my hips angling themselves forward of their own accord, giving Alex more space to move his hand.
I can feel him grinning against my cheek. “Dirty Silver,” he whispers. “You’re staring at that television screen very hard. Are you finding this an educational experience?”
Jesus…fucking…
I grab hold of the edge of my desk, bracing myself and holding myself in place at the same time. With Alex’s black jacket covering everything that he’s doing, no one can see what’s going on beneath the leather, but if I start flailing my legs all over the place then people are going to be able to guess. “You should stop,” I say softly. “If you make me come…”
“Hmm?” His question is a low growl in my ear.
“Someone will notice. They’ll—” I cut myself off, blocking off my throat entirely as Alex angles his fingers upward, stroking them against a spot inside me that makes flashes of color burst in my vision. He isn’t fucking around. It doesn’t matter how hard I protest, or how frantically I tell him he should stop. He means to make me come at the back of this classroom, and nothing I say is going to deter him.
If I really, really want him to stop, I’m going to have to grab his hand and physically drag it out of my pants. I close my hand around his wrist, preparing to do just that, but then I falter. Fuck, it feels…so fucking good. Alex fastens his teeth onto my shoulder, biting down playfully through my t-shirt, nowhere near as hard as I made him bite me in the guest room at home, but the effect that small spike of pain has on me is instant and dizzying. My head rocks back, my mouth falling open.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,Argento.” His low, rasping voice is hypnotic. I lose myself altogether as he continues to speak to me, barely loud enough to be heard. “I want my dick inside you so fucking bad right now. Shhh, don’t make a sound. Don’t move. You need this, don’t you? You’re hungry. Don’t worry, I got you. Let me fuck this out of you with my fingers. Let me make you feel good.”
White flares of light chase across my eyes as he pumps his hand quicker between my legs. I’m so wet, I can actuallysmellmyself on him as he moves faster, circling the pad of his thumb over the slick, tight knot of my clit. Combined with his fingers pulsing and surging inside me, it feels as though he’s lit an eternal fire in the very center of my core and it will never fucking go out.
“You’re getting tighter,Argento. Jesus Christ,” Alex murmurs. “Stay with me. Won’t be long now, I promise. I’ve got you. Hold your breath. Hold it. Don’t make a fucking sound. Let it come. Let it come.”
I want to scream. I want to buck against his hand and grind myself into his palm. I can’t, though. I can’t move an inch. If I even allow myself to breathe, I’m going to make some sort of desperate, mindless sound that will let everyone know that I’m teetering on the edge of an orgasm.
“Soak my hand,Dolcezza. Come on. Do it. I want you all over my fingers. Come for me. Come.Come.”
This is an order I cannot disobey. It’s too late. There’s no clawing my way back up this cliff face toward sanity. I’m already stumbling, tripping, tumbling headfirst into nothingness.
‘For millions on Earth, the Christmas Eve television broadcast isthedefining moment of Apollo Eight. But for the engineers…and especially the astronauts…there’s a critical maneuver just ahead that overshadows everything else…’
I hear the words blaring out of the television, but it I don’t register a single one of them. I can’t focus on anything but the numbed-out bliss Alex coaxes from me with each pump of his fingers.
“Good girl. Good girl. That’s it. Ride it. Ride it out.”
My fingernails gouging into the wooden desk in front of me, I lock up, trembling, leaning into him as I come. The well of pleasure I descend into feels bottomless, but eventually I reach its end.
I’m too afraid to breathe for a second. I don’t want to gulp at the air like I’m starving, but before long I have no choice. I pull a thin trickle of air in through my nose, my body slowly falling slack against Alex’s chest, and he purrs into my hair like a satisfied cat.
“Damn,Argento. That was the hottest thing I have fucking seen.” He nuzzles into my hair, pressing a kiss against the damp skin of my neck, and I shudder one last time as he slides his fingers out of me. Everyone else in the room is silent, watching the television screen with boredom strewn across their faces. Not me, though. I’m too busy staring at Alessandro Moretti, as he licks my come clean from each one of his glistening fingers.
20
ALEX
“Come on, old man. You’re embarrassing yourself. Harder. Come on,harder!”
Under any other circumstances, I would never dream of speaking to Cam like this, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He wants to be a part of the Jacob Weaving take-down crew, but I know for a fact he hasn’t had to raise a fist to anyone his entire life. That much became painfully clear the first time he swung at the heavy bag hanging in his garage…and he nearly fucking missed.
Silver had three guitar lessons queued up with her regular students after school today, so I grabbed the opportunity with both hands, putting her father through his paces during her absence. And let’s just say, it hasnotbeen pretty.
Cameron gives me an irritated scowl as he lunges forward, jabbing at the bag like I showed him to. At least he’s connecting properly with the damn thing now. That’s something, I suppose. I doubt a hit from Cameron could put a man down on his ass, though. It’s not as if the guy’s unfit or anything. He’s young, all things considered, and broad-shouldered. There should be nothing stopping him from sending the heavy bag suspended from his garage roof swinging for the rafters, but it isn’t happening. There appears to be a problem, namely the fact that whenever Cameron Parisi pulls back his fist and sends it hurtling forward toward the bag…he doesn’t fuckingmeanit.
It’s understandable. He hasn’t seen the way Jake looks at Silver. He hasn’t seen the smug, self-satisfied smile on the motherfucker’s face as he traipses through the hallways of Raleigh like he fucking owns the place. If he’d caught one glimpse of Jacob’s eyes crawling over Silver’s skin, the wayI’vecaught them crawling, then he wouldn’t be having this problem right now. I nearly gave myself a fucking aneurism pretending that everything was okay at school today. I wanted nothing more than to hunt down that motherfucker and tear him limb from limb, but I didn’t for Silver’s sake. She must have thought I was fucking crazy, skipping into physics like I didn’t have a care in the world. And then making her come under her fucking desk? Yeah, I must have come across like a goddamn psychopath, but it was all I could do to distract myself from the chain of bruises that I knew were worsening under the high neck of her sweater.
“I have an old skiing injury, y’know,” Cam grumbles as he jabs at the bag. “I dislocated my shoulder when Silver was six. It comes out of joint if I’m not careful.”
The garage door’s closed. There are three little element heaters pointed at us from Cam’s barely used workbench, and the space has gotten surprisingly hot. We both shed our shirts about half an hour ago, and I’ve been trying not to stare at Cam’s extraordinarily pale chest ever since. Not one tattoo on the guy. Not a fucking one. Weird.
I brace the heavy bag against my side, rolling my eyes. “D’you know how ultra-privileged and ridiculous that sounds?Oh, no, my old skiing injury. I can’t possibly hit something hard, or all of my money’ll go flying out of my pockets.”
