Next day, I let the car purr as I drove into the school lot. The engine's low growl pulled heads like a magnet. Flash was already standing beside his Mustang, holding a smoothie like it was a trophy. He turned when he heard the rumble. His eyes squinted like the sun slept with his ex and bragged about it.
I eased into a spot across from him, killed the engine, and stepped out without a word.
Flash was mid-sip. The smoothie in his hand froze halfway to his mouth. His eyes stayed locked on my car. Like he was trying to figure out if I stole it, leased it, or rolled a mafia member for it.
"Where the hell did you get that?" he asked.
"Garage sale," I said, pulling my bag over my shoulder. "Old man threw in the soul of Elvis for free."
He walked closer, circling like a dog smelling another's territory. "You cannot even afford lunch. You expecting me to believe you bought a classic?"
"I expect nothing from you," I said, adjusting my hoodie. "You are just an unpaid extra in my coming-of-age montage."
He stopped at the front bumper, pointed at the plate. "No way this is legal."
"It is as legal as your mommy's Botox prescription," I said. "Want to touch it? I won't even charge."
He gave a half-smirk like he was trying to hide how bothered he was. "You drive a rust bucket with delusions of grandeur."
I clicked the lock remote. The car chirped back. "And you drive a midlife crisis with an Instagram filter."
His jaw clenched.
"I bet the AC does not work," he said, voice tight.
"It works better than your pull game," I said, heading toward the building.
Flash stayed near the bumper. He looked like he wanted to key the paint but was scared the car would bite back.
Felicia appeared next to me, hips brushing mine like she thought they were part of the conversation. She gave the Impala a once-over, smirk curling.
"Nice ride. Where did you get it?" she asked, tilting her head to show off the silver in her earrings.
"Stole it," I said. "Right after I mugged Batman."
She laughed, it made Flash twitch where he stood. "Batman has taste. I would have stolen the keys from your corpse."
"You would have licked them first," I said.
"Depends where you hid them." She purred before adding, "Wanna hangout after school? You can show me how bumpy that ride is," she smirked like she just invented foreplay.
I looked at her. "That sounds like a setup."
She leaned closer, breath brushing my jaw. "Only if you are afraid of a little suspension testing."
"You calling my car's shocks weak?"
"I am calling your game weaker."
"Then I guess I have to prove something."
"You better," she said, fingers dragging down my arm like she was trying to scratch her name into my hoodie. "I already picked the parking lot."
"Which one?"
"The one behind the rec center. Empty. Quiet. No cameras."
"That is very specific."
She grinned. "I have standards."
I opened the classroom door, let her walk in first. I followed and took the seat by the window, dropped my bag.
Felicia slid into the chair in front of me, spun around in it without asking.
Her hand rested on my knee.
"After school. Bring the car. Bring yourself. Leave the teasing unless you plan to finish."
Trixie entered five seconds later, spotted Felicia with her hand still on me, and immediately rolled her eyes so hard they nearly snapped her neck. She took her seat near the middle, made sure that her chair scraped like she wanted to announce her arrival without words.
Cassie followed, lips tight, ignored Felicia entirely, but her stare lingered on me, she was calculating whether getting territorial was worth the energy. She chose silence.
MJ walked in, looked straight at Felicia, then at me. Her eyes narrowed. She slid into her seat beside mine.
Cassie cornered me near the vending machines during lunch. No hello, no warm-up. Just grabbed my wrist and pulled. Cassie pushed me against the lockers in the gym's changing room, fingers curled in my shirt. "Peter," she whispered, voice rough like it had been screaming in silence, "I missed you."
She kissed me before I could speak. Mouth hot and desperate. She was grinding in need, wrapped in lip gloss and Friday perfume. I cupped her waist, shoved her against the locker, and kissed her back. She moaned into my mouth. Fingers tangled in my hair like she wanted to rip thoughts out of my skull. I slid my hand under her skirt.
Two fingers, just enough pressure. Her breath hitched, hips rocked. The hallway echoed with the faint squeak of her back against the metal.
She pulled away, barely. Lips swollen. "You asshole," she muttered.
I slid one finger along the edge of her panties, felt how soaked they were. "You missed me," I said.
She nodded. Tried to kiss me again. I grabbed her throat, just enough to make her stay still. Her eyes fluttered. Legs shifted. She knew this spot. Knew the locker number behind her head. Knew I fucked her against it more times than she probably admitted to her friends.
I moved her thong aside. Slid two fingers in.
She gasped, leaned her head back, hit the metal.
I bent down, kissed her neck, then bit just hard enough to leave a promise. My fingers curled inside her.
Cassie gripped my shirt harder. "Peter, fuck, you cannot just disappear on me."
I added a third finger. She bit her lip. Her thighs trembled. I dragged my thumb across her clit, slow circle, then faster. Her knees buckled. I held her up with my free hand, mouth still on her collarbone, dragging kisses under her jaw.
"You were the one playing games," I whispered. "I just stopped pretending to care."
She whimpered. One leg lifted, wrapped around my hip, skirt bunched at her waist. She rocked her hips, fucking herself on my hand. I kept my fingers buried deep, rubbed her clit with my palm. Her breath came faster. She was close. I felt it in the way her hips jerked, the way her grip tightened like she thought she could stop herself from breaking.
I stopped, yanked my fingers out. Cassie sagged against the locker, thighs twitching, breath catching like she had been punched through the lungs.
"No!" she gasped. Her hands shot to my wrist. "Please," she begged.
I undid my belt. "Deserve it first."
Cassie whimpered, eyes wide, hips arching off the locker like her body was trying to crawl onto my lap. Her hand reached down, but I caught her wrist and shoved it against the cold metal.
She swallowed, chest rising fast. "I will," she whispered. "Let me."
She dropped to her knees without waiting. Her fingers slid under the waistband, pulled my boxers down, and wrapped her mouth around me like she had missed the taste more than she missed breathing. I grabbed the back of her head and shoved deeper. She gagged. Then again. Each time louder.
Saliva dripped from the corner of her lips, smeared her chin. Her mascara was already smudging. One hand braced on my thigh, the other between her own legs, grinding hard, frantic. I slapped her hand away.
"Not yet."
She moaned around my cock. I heard the wet pop when she pulled back for breath, string of spit connecting her lips to the tip.
"Please, Peter, let me cum."
"Deserve it."
She opened wider, took me back in. My hips flexed. She choked, nails digging into my jeans.
I fucked her mouth until her lipstick was gone, until her eyes watered and her gag reflex gave up. When I pulled out, she gasped and coughed once, hands still on my legs.
"Turn around."
She obeyed. Bent forward. Gripped the locker vent. Her ass pushed back, skirt bunched.
I spit in my hand. Rubbed once. Lined up. Shoved in all the way.
She screamed, teeth sinking into her wrist, body arching back like she was begging for more before her brain could catch up. I grabbed her hips and pounded her against the locker. Metal rattled. Her breath came out in short, broken moans. Wet. Loud. Desperate.
I grabbed her hair. Pulled. She yelped. Her back bent further. She was soaked. Every thrust echoed. Her hands slipped on the locker. She moaned my name.
I reached around, found her clit, rubbed hard. She jerked. Tried to pull away. I held her in place. She came like her soul was leaking out, legs shaking, scream muffled against the metal.
I didn't stop. I kept going until her knees gave out. Until her moans turned silent. Until she was dripping down her thighs.
When I finished, I pulled out, grabbed her hair again, and made her turn. She slid to her knees, opened her mouth. I fed her every drop.
She swallowed without blinking. I held her chin, rubbed my thumb across her lips, dragging the last smear of spit and come off her lower lip. "No more games. Got it?"
She nodded, still on her knees, eyes glassy, thighs slick, fingers clenched tight into the hem of her skirt like she needed something to hold onto before her body folded again. I slapped her cheek softly, "Good girl."
I pulled her up by the elbow. She wobbled, knees refusing to listen. I shoved her against the locker, yanked her skirt down, smoothed it out.
She cooed, "I love you, Peter."
I chuckled, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "That is commitment. You sure about that?"
She nodded, pressing her face against my chest, nose nuzzling my skin like it held every answer she needed. "I am."
I smirked, wiping my fingers on the inside of her skirt before yanking it down again. "Then don't test it next time with a stupid comment about other men. You try to use another guy for bait, I am leaving you tied to that locker."
She clung tighter, arms around my waist, head still pressed against me like she didn't want to let go. "We were jealous. We thought you might... I don't know."
"You thought I would not fuck you," I said flatly. "That I would want someone with fewer brain cells and less throat stamina?"
Cassie snorted, half-laughing into my shirt. "You are a bastard."
"And you love me for it. Stand up. We have class."
Her legs wobbled. She braced herself on the locker, skirt clinging to her thighs, throat still red from earlier. I grabbed her elbow and pulled her upright.
"Mirror," I said.
She turned. Lipstick smeared, mascara blotchy, hair a mess. She looked like a cautionary tale for school sex ed, but her grin said she would do it again if I crooked my finger.
I handed her a napkin from my pocket. "Fix your face. You are glowing like you just survived a summoning ritual."
She wiped her mouth, eyes catching mine in the mirror. "Can we do it again tomorrow?"
"Clean your face first. Then ask."
She did. I grabbed her ass once more, then walked out before she could get clingy again. Left her in the changing room with her thighs still twitching and a half-satisfied pout.
As I stepped into the hallway, MJ was already walking past, eyes on her phone, but she turned to glance. She caught the scent. Her face twitched.
I gave her a wink.
[System]: Mmmm~ the stench of dominance and cum. You are a walking sex offense in progress.
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