Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
So I take hold of his tie and lead the way through the gym, heading toward the exit that will take us toward the classrooms.
I make sure to slip into the shadows, aware of where all the chaperones are throughout the gym. I shift my grip to his hand when he knocks into one of the tables of food. How much did he drink? I almost feel sorry for him.
Almost.
With a backward glance, I open one of the side doors and slip out of the gym and into the dimly lit hallway. A couple of kids loiter here, making out in the shadows.
“Where are we going?” Jason asks, tugging me to him and shifting his grip to my ass.
I grin and pull his arms higher to my waist. “Somewhere more private,” I tell him as I push through the door into the stairwell.
“I like the sound of that.”
Jason follows me up the stairs like a good little dog. Once we get to the science hall, he slows down. “They’ll be locked,” he says.
I pull him along. “Nah. I know where Henderson keeps the key.” Mr. Henderson is a functioning alcoholic. To each his own, but I’m pretty observant, and I know once he locks up, he tucks the key up onto the top of the doorframe.
“Good girl,” Jason says approvingly as I stand on tiptoe to retrieve it, then unlock and open the door.
“After you,” I tell him, swallowing back my distaste of being called a good girl. Are all men assholes? My brother isn’t. Not to me, at least. Dad, yeah, pretty easily falls into that category. All the ones from school do too. Jason just confirmed that. So maybe it’s true and my brother is the rare exception.
We enter the lab, and I shut the door behind us. I take a moment to make sure no one followed us before drawing the little curtain closed on the window.
Jason is very handsy as I push him backward toward our table. His lips are disgustingly moist, and I manage to turn my head just out of the way of his kisses. It’s not that hard, and I almost feel sorry for him.
For what I’m going to do to him.
“Let’s get a pic,” he says, taking out his phone and raising it over his head.
“No,” I say, but it’s too late. He’s snapped one, although I’m a dark blur as I turn my head away.
“Come on. We’re making memories, right?”
I smile, take his phone, and set it aside. He takes off his jacket and tosses it as I strip off his tie. I slip it around him to bind his hands behind his back. “After,” I say, as I pull the tie around his wrists and his smile grows so huge, it’s almost blinding.
“Kinky. I like it.”
I make a knot. I’m pretty sure he can get out of it if he wants, but he lets me unbutton his shirt. It’s no easy task as I try to dodge his wet kisses. Really, this is why Jane wanted to humiliate me? Is she that jealous that this boy, and his buddies, might have looked at me once too often? Pathetic.
I shove his shirt off his shoulders and let it hang there before reaching for his belt.
“Wait, wait. Let me see you. Take off your dress.”
“Not yet,” I tell him, undoing his belt and slacks and pushing his pants down around his ankles before picking up his phone and turning it to him so face ID unlocks it. “Let’s get a pic first.”
“Hey! What the—”
The flash is momentarily blinding and it’s hard to suppress my smile when I see what he looks like with his pants around his ankles, erection pressing against his tighty-whities.
“Ooh,” I make an embarrassed face. “Not as impressive as I’d hoped.” I stand back to study him, biting my lip in faux concentration. “It is a sad little thing.”
“Hey man,” he says, all serious as he straightens, wriggling his wrists free of the tie. I step backward to get another photo, and he trips over his pants as he tries to get to me. “Stop. What are you doing?” He bends to pull up his pants, does up the button, and I get one more picture before he grabs my wrist roughly and takes the camera. “What the fuck, Maddy?”
“I told you not to call me that,” I say. He tightens his grip around my wrist, and I watch him delete the photos. Once that’s done, he pulls me toward a lab table.
“You like dirty pictures?” he asks, shifting his grip to my arm and holding me tight as he snaps one of me. “I like dirty pictures too.” He traps me against the table with his chest, a fucking quarterback and me at a hundred and ten pounds, and grins down at me. He presses his little cock against me.