“You’re so fake,” he hisses.
“Am I?” I narrow my eyes. “Maybe I am fake, but my boobs…”
He squeezes it hard and then runs his thumb over my nipple. I hate that my nipple hardens beneath his touch. Why does my body respond to him? Am I that desperate?
“They’re real,” he admits softly. “Doesn’t mean the entire world has to know that.”
“No, but it’s fine if everyone sees me half naked on your say-so, huh? Whatever you want goes. That right?”
He smirks. “Maybe you are learning your place some. You can’t tell me you aren’t wet. I bet you’re all horned up. You’re a slut who loves attention.”
“Maybe I do want more than one guy at a time,” I tell him. “You into sharing?”
“Fuck that shit.”
I laugh in his face.
His other hand flies up to my throat.
"You sure like to put your hand there. You have a girlfriend who liked to almost pass out to come? 'Cause you weren't able to get her off any other way?"
“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“What is going on over here?” a teacher calls out, but there’s such a crowd around us that he can’t get through.
I try to pull up my top, but Brett is still playing with one of my nipples. He twists it hard, and my lips part, but I refuse to cry out. It hurts, yes, but there's also a bit of pleasure there, and I hate him for it, but I also want it.
I really am all fucked up.
Brett removes his hand, and I fix my top the rest of the way as the teacher finally makes it through to stand between us. Brett slides to stand next to me, and his hand reaches up under my skirt to touch my bare ass. I'm wearing a thong, so his hand is on my skin.
“What is going on?” the teacher asks.
“Erika? Can you tell Mr. Benton here what’s going on?”
He’s rubbing my ass, and he’s so fucking distracting.
“Nothing,” I say, my voice a little strange. “Nothing at all.”
“That so?” Mr. Benton doesn’t sound convinced.
Brett leans against me, and his hand slips down a bit to be between my lips. I jolt a bit, and his finger rubs against my thong. Shit. I am wet. He knows it. He can feel it. Fuck me.
“Nothing at all is going on,” Brett assures him.
“Because I heard…”
“You know us kids. We say the craziest shit, but none of it is true,” Brett says, still rubbing me.
I reach up to place a hand on his shoulder. My legs are going to putty, and I don’t know if I can stand on my own.
Mr. Benton nods a few times before turning around and walking away.
Brett removes his hand. Of course, my skirt remains up, so I have to shove it down. He probably just had me half-moon some kids.
He holds up his fingers. They’re glistening with my wetness.
“You are such a slut,” he says, bringing his fingers up to my face. “You are so wet for me.”