“Flynt,” I hiss.
His fingertips bite into my hip abductor. “Stay right where you are.”
I check to make sure the teacher isn’t watching us. Thankfully, she’s busy guiding another pair of students through the steps of the experiment. “This isn’t appropriate.”
“I tried to be as appropriate as possible with you, Ayla. Then you showed up at my garage and flashed your wet, virgin pussy at me. You let another man run game on you. Now we’ve got a big problem.”
Try as I might to refrain from being turned on, it quickly becomes a losing battle.
He’s so strong and capable and the way he touches me is soknowing.Like he’s been studying me his entire life. He massages my hip while his lips move in my hair and my eyelids start to flutter, my backside starting to make a home in his lap. Working side to side, gratified by the friction of skin on denim. “That’s a good girl,” he rasps. “Don’t forget to take notes. We have to hand in that sheet at the end of class.”
I drop the pencil three times before filling out the worksheet.
Once again, I search out the teacher. Is she watching us? Walking in this direction?
“Ayla,” Flynt chides in my ear. “You let me worry about who is looking.” I have no warning before his hand disappears beneath my skirt, his fingers delving down the front of my panties. “You just enjoy yourself.”
I suck in a breath and order myself to pull away. There’s no other option, right?
Flynt can’t touch me like this at school! We could get expelled—
His middle finger moves like firm silk over that sensitive nub between my legs and I jerk backward, swallowing a whimper at the last second. “Oh. Ohhh. We can’t.”
“I walked in here and found that meathead ready to slobber all over you. I’m not in a reasonable state of mind.” The pads of his fingers stroke that enlivening spot, slow at first, then faster and faster. “Now you’re going to come on my fingers while he watches.”
“What?” I’m already starting to tremble. “Who?”
“Look at him. Let him see how good I make you feel.Only. Me.” Slowly, slowly, he presses a finger inside of me. Not all the way, just enough to brush against the barrier of my innocence and halt my breath in my throat. “That little pipsqueak wouldn’t know how to touch an angel like you. He’d fumble around and try and copy what he’s seen in all the shitty internet porn he’s been watching. But he wouldn’t get it wet enough and he’d only last fifteen seconds.” I’m dazed, I’m reeling, but I manage to glance over at the football player. He’s watching, slack-jawed, from the neighboring table as Flynt starts to rub my clitoris in fast circles, his low groan echoing in my ear. I look down. The football player can’t see my sex, only Flynt’s hand moving with intention underneath my skirt. Still, this is utterly crazy. It has to stop.
But I can’t seem to form the words.
Not with pleasure bearing down on me so quickly.
“Flynt—”
“You know, I haven’t watched a single minute of porn since freshman year. No need. I’ve been fucking you in my head twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, since the first time I saw you.”
My sex clenches and grows wetter.
Is it possible I like the way he speaks to me?
Is it possible IlikeFlynt…laying claim to me in front of the football player?
“You asked for this when you walked to class alone and let someone else think for a second they might have a chance with you, Ayla. I have to double down. Mark you while he watches, or I’ll go fucking insane.” I’m on the verge of something magnificent. So close. So close. My toes are curled, thighs quivering, my inner thighs growing slicker by the second. “Grind that tight ass in my lap. Work my dick. Show him who your Daddy is, baby.”
I moan out loud.
Right there in the middle of class.
I’m being projected straight out of my body to a place I’ve never reached. Never even thought to look for. I’ve touched myself during moments when I felt something stirring inside of me, but I never could have imagined I was seekingthis. It’s color and light and sweet, torturous relief. It feels bad and good at the same time. The small, untested muscles of my core bear down and pulsate as I claw at Flynt’s pleasure giving hand, every part of me flushed and dewy.
In class.
The bell rings.
I can’t fill my lungs. Can’t do anything but collapse backward against Flynt’s sturdy chest, totally and completely depleted. When I manage to crack an eyelid, I realize in horror that our chemistry is watching the scene play out in shock. “Miss Barnes? What is—”
“She’s feeling a little under the weather,” supplies Flynt, lifting me into his arms with ease. “I’m going to bring her to the nurse’s office.”