But Donna frowned a little and grabbed both my hands, placing them on her head and digging her nails into my skin. As soon as I threaded my fingers into her hair, she let go, and her hands went to my hips.
I groaned again—too loudly, considering our location—but some noise is kind of unavoidable when the chick giving you a BJ actively encourages you to pull her hair and hold her head.
I was getting close, panting, the pressure building. My hips twitched, involuntarily driving my dick forward, and I fought to still them.
Again, Donna surprised me. She moaned around my cock, the vibrations feeling incredible. Both her hands moved to the wall on either side of my hips, and she gave me a challenging look, practically begging me to fuck her mouth.
I watched her carefully, just in case I’d read the signals wrong, but I started thrusting. She met me stroke for stroke, taking me deeper and moaning. The head of my cock started hitting the back of her throat repeatedly, but she just kept going, encouraging me with her eyes, sucking me down with her mouth.
For a few glorious moments, Donna gave herself over to me completely. The sight of her on her knees before me as I thrust my cock in and out of her mouth, her eyes starting to water a little, was addictive. Better than any porn I’d ever seen.
The feel of her soft hair in my hands, and her even softer mouth . . .
My whole body tensed, and I banged my head against the wall, bending slightly at the knees as the most intense orgasm washed over me. I couldn’t have warned her if I wanted to—the climax came over me so suddenly and with such force. For a second, my vision went black, stars sparking at the edges as I exploded down her throat.
She swallowed it all, sucking and licking as I gasped for air as though I were drowning.
I slumped against the wall. My legs and arms felt like noodles as I slowly caught my breath. Donna sat back on her heels and gave me one small, satisfied smile. She looked happy with herself—as she should, that was fucking phenomenal—but she also looked more relaxed, not as worked up as she’d been in the hallway just moments before.
Without another word, she reached into her pocket, popped a mint into her mouth, then smoothed her hair and uniform before getting to her feet and walking out of the office.
“What the f . . .” I scrambled to tuck myself back into my pants and rushed after her, leaving the door wide open.
I caught a glimpse of her turning the corner at the end of the hallway and took off jogging after her. When I was halfway up the hall, several people rounded the corner and started walking toward me. The meeting must’ve finished, and all the teachers and admin workers were heading back to their offices. I slowed down to a respectable speed and plastered a neutral look on my face until I passed them.
As soon as I was out of the hall, I booked it toward the stairs.
“Donna!” I called out, taking the stairs down two at a time. I caught up to her just as she reached the halfway point.
She turned to me, a little confused, but didn’t stop walking. “What?”
“What do you mean what? Are you OK?” I leaned in, keeping my voice low. She’d left without a single word. Had I hurt her? Was I too rough? “Did you not want to . . . did you change your mind or something?”
She laughed under her breath. “No. You finished, didn’t you?”
I blew out a big breath. “I mean, yeah. I finished spectacularly.” There was that satisfied smirk again. “But did I do something to make you uncomfortable? You just left without saying anything.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to cuddle? You’ll have to get yourself a girlfriend for that.”
“I don’t want a fucking girlfriend,” I barked, a little too loudly. Voices were starting to reach us from below—people were making their way to their next classes. We were about to be swallowed up by the student body once more. “I just want to make sure you’re OK.”
She finally stopped and faced me, rolling her eyes before glancing down at my crotch. “Your vagina is showing.”
“What?” I glanced down, then looked at her as if she was crazy—I was starting to think she was. “I’m just trying to be a decent human being and make sure I didn’t choke you out with my dick. Why do you have to be such a bitch about it?”
“I’m fine. You’re more than fine. That was a hookup and nothing more, and I didn’t think we needed to compare notes. Also, I didn’t want to get caught in Mr. Kirke’s office. So I left. Nothing else to it. Now stop acting like a pussy and wait a few minutes before coming the rest of the way downstairs. I don’t want to be seen with you.”
She fixed my collar, gave me a sweet smile, and walked away.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out if I wanted to smile or punch something.
Donna Mead was a fucking force of nature, and if I wasn’t careful, I had a feeling she would knock me to my knees like a goddamn landslide.
Chapter Twelve
Donna
The heat from the massive bonfire warmed my right cheek, but not as much as the heat from Hendrix’s stare was warming my left.
It had been stupid to hook up with him again, get on my knees for that cocky son of a bitch. It had definitely been stupid to do it at school, where anyone could’ve caught us. But that was part of the thrill, wasn’t it? It was a reckless thing to do, but I was enraged after my chat with Mr. Kirke, and I’d needed an outlet. He was just there, that was all. It could’ve just as easily been Will if he’d happened to walk down that corridor toward me.
I’d avoided him for the next few days, to make it clear it meant nothing, but there he was, invading my Saturday night. Again.
Even through his Jason mask, I could tell he was watching me. He’d worn plain black jeans and a black jacket, but the mask from Friday the 13th was iconic enough to make his lazy costume clear. I huffed and took a drink of my soda, careful not to ruin my lipstick. Mena had spent hours doing our makeup, insisting on getting it perfect.
I was dressed as Britney Spears in the flight attendant uniform from the “Toxic” video. My sister was the perfect “Baby One More Time” Britney, with the slutty uniform and her long hair in pigtails. Amaya had opted for the skimpiest Britney outfit, but the look from her performance of “Slave 4 You” at the VMAs looked perfect on my stunning friend. She was so committed to the look we’d had to talk her out of buying an actual snake to wear around her neck all night. Mena was in head-to-toe denim and had somehow talked Turner into dressing in all denim too so they could be Britney and Justin in their matching outfits.
Half the reason we’d decided on these costumes was so we could say hi to people when we arrived and declare, “We’re Britney, bitch!” The first half hour at the party had been a lot of fun as we ran around greeting people we knew.
Last year we’d planned to go to some party at Nicola’s parents’ penthouse loft in San Francisco, but we’d ended up staying in to watch horror movies instead. Mena had worked all day and fallen asleep halfway through the first one.
This year, Harlow talked us all into going to a not-entirely-legal party. We’d driven nearly an hour out of town, into rural land, then down some dirt track to a party in a field. With every bump in the track, every ding on the outside of my car, I wondered how much damage I was doing. Should’ve taken the jeep Dad got for fishing trips he never went on.