Page 10 of Revenge At Raleigh High
God, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t fucking think. Moving quickly, I push him back far enough that I can rip open his leather jacket, hike up his t-shirt and unbutton his jeans.
“Whoa, Silver, sto—” His protest cuts off when I drive my hand down the front of his jeans and I take hold of him. The words come to a jarring halt on his lips. A deep, satisfying pleasure courses through my veins, racing around my body, when I see how badly my touch is affectinghim. He wants me. He craves me just as badly as I crave him, and that knowledge makes me feel so fucking powerful. I’m quick but gentle as I reposition him, teasing his dick so that it’s upright and the swollen head of his cock is protruding from the top of his jeans. Alex looks down at his erection, at my hand that’s shoved down his boxers, exposing him, and a violent, urgent shudder racks his body.
“Silver…”
“Don’t tell me not to. I want you to come, too.”
“In your hand. Here, in the street?” he growls.
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” His mouth crashes down on mine, and I surrender myself to the madness of the moment. I don’t give a shit if someone walks around the corner anymore. I don’t care if Sheriff Hainsworth himself rolls up in his squad car and slaps a pair of handcuffs on us. The only thing that matters is the heavy, pulsing need churning inside me. The frantic, animalistic need that grips me as Alex consumes me in his kiss. The dazed, tense look on his face when he pulls back, as I begin to work my hand up and down the length of his erection.
His free hand claws at my shirt; he fists the material, yanking it up around my neck, and the next thing I know he’s pulling the cups of my bra down, exposing my breasts to the winter air, taking a painfully tight nipple into his mouth and sucking on it hard.
“Ahh! Shit!Shit!” I let my head fall back against the wall again, panting as he licks and bites, thrusting his fingers into me faster and faster, my pussy aching with pleasure. He’s rigid in my hand, slick, pre-cum wetting his soft, silken smooth skin, making it so easy for my palm to glide up and down his shaft. Alex lets out a savage, raw snarl, angling his wrist, using his thumb to rub against my clit as he continues to drive his fingers inside me, and I can’t fucking take it anymore.
“Fuck, Alex, I’m—you’re gonna make me come,” I pant.
“Good. Fucking do it. Do it. Come for me, Silver. Come on.”
The orgasm isn’t a slow, gradual build. It’s instant, explosive, and takes me out at the knees. I can’t keep quiet. I know my urgent, breathless cry of ecstasy echoes down Main Street, too loud, too obvious, but I can’t bring myself to care. Alex has some sense about him, at least. He clamps his hand over my mouth, pressing his forehead against mine as I buck and shudder against his hand, riding out the most intense orgasm I’ve ever fucking experienced. I close my teeth around one of his fingers, clamping down, my eyes rolling back into my head, and Alex swears harshly under his breath.
My pulse is racing out of control. I close my hand tighter around his dick, shuttling my fist up and down his now fully exposed cock, and Alex hisses through his teeth. “God, Silver. Careful. If you don’t stop—”
I’m not going to stop. My entire body is still tingling and numb from my climax, but the powerful implosion of it has subsided and it’shisturn now. I grab hold of him with my other hand, using it to rub and squeeze the tip of his dick as I jerk him off, and Alex lets out a guttural, wordless, rasping sound. His eyes flicker between my face and the narrow gap between our bodies; he seems gripped by the sight of my hands working and teasing at him, and I realize very fucking quickly that the fascination on his face is a major turn on.
He falls forward, bracing himself against the wall with both hands over my head, baring his teeth as he stares down at what I’m doing. I quicken my pace, using my thumb to massage the fat bead of precum that’s pearling against the head of his cock into his skin.
“Jesus Christ, Silver. Jesus…I’m—fuuuuuck!”
It’s my turn to watch in fascination now, as thick ropes of come erupt from him, jetting over my hands and up the sleeve of my jacket. My shirt’s still hiked up around my neck, my breasts still naked, and I gasp when another surge of the white, hot fluid lands on my bare stomach.
Alex shivers as I continue to work my hands up and down his length. I’m sticky, covered in his come, but I don’t stop. Looking up, I find Alex’s eyes closed, his lips parted, his head hanging between his shoulders as he tries to catch his breath. He jumps, too sensitive, hissing through his teeth when I rub my fingers over the tip of his cock again. “Jesus wept, you’re trying to kill me,” he huffs. “Stop, stop, I can’t fucking take it.”
I let him go, feeling rather proud of myself. It goes without saying that he makes me feel amazing, but knowing that I can make him this kind of crazy? Well…it’s seriously fucking satisfying. Alex opens one eye, groaning when he catches sight of me. “Fuck, I’m sorry,Argento. I’ve made a fucking mess of you. No, no, don’t touch anything. Stay still.”
He puts himself away, fastening his pants with quick, sure movements, and then he’s stooping at my feet, gathering snow in his cupped hands. I bite back a scream when he presses it against my stomach, using it to clean away his semen; Alex grins like the bastard that he is. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s not funny, I swear.” The way his eyes are dancing with amusement tells me that it is funny, though. The melted water runs down the front of my jeans, making me squeal, and Alex grabs the bandana hanging from his back pocket, using it to catch up the remaining wetness, drying me off with it, then slowly, veeeeery slowly he corrects my bra, straightening the fabric and guiding the cups back into place, covering my breasts. He fixes up my shirt next, and then collects more snow, reverently cleaning himself from my hands, apologizing again, softly and seriously this time, as he takes care of the mess he made of my jacket sleeve.
His dark hair falls into his face. His eyes flicker upward from under drawn brows, assessing me through his wavy, tumbled locks, and my heart summersaults. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he confesses. “I can’t keep my hands off you. I have no idea how the fuck I’m supposed to restrain myself.”
My fingers are wet and numb from the snow. I close them around Alex’s hands, every part of me alive and singing even from this small contact between us. “Restraint is seriously overrated, Alessandro. Who needs it anyway?”
His full lips press together, holding back a smile as leans down to me, resting his cheek against my forehead. I nestle into him, winding my arms around him, beneath the thick, musty smelling leather of his jacket, and the universe and all its mysteries click into place. I don’t know exactly how long the sun will burn for. I don’t know how black holes work. I still don’t know if there is life on other planets, but none of that’s important anymore, because here, in Alessandro Moretti’s arms, everything makes perfect sense anyway.
“Silver? Is that you?”
I whip my head up, pulse thumping everywhere at the sound of my name. Standing under the street light, eight feet away, Mr. Saxman from the convenience store—one of my father’s high school friends—is standing stock still with a bulging brown paper bag in his arms. He’s squinting into the shadows, hair dusted with snow, concern strewn across his face. I dig my fingers into Alex’s back, horror coursing through me as I realize just how mortifying it really would have been if one of my father’s friendshadshown up a few minutes ago. Alex huffs out a breath of laughter into my hair, refusing to turn his head.
“Uh...hi, Mr. Saxman. How are you?”
His eyes crawl up and down Alex’s back, presumably trying to figure out who I’m clinging to like a lost soul out here in the freezing cold night. He takes a step forward but then pauses, seeming to think better of it. “I’m good. Everything okay here?” His voice is sharp. Suspicious.
“Of course. Everything’s perfect.” Plumes of fog billow on my breath, catching in the yellowed glow thrown off by the street light. I mention nothing about the fact that I’m wrapped around a dark-haired guy in a leather jacket that Mr. Saxman has probably never seen before, and Alex still doesn’t turn. He just hums into my hair—a contented, relieved sound that almost makes my brain short out.
“Okay, well…I don’t mean to interrupt. It’s too cold to be loitering around out here, though. Maybe you should think about heading on home?”
“Yes, Mr. Saxman. Don’t worry, we were just about to leave.”
