Broken Knight (All Saints High 2)

I had Luna Rexroth in my bed. Well, technically, her bed. My fingers inside her pussy. Hot and sticky. Naked, save for the panties, which I nudged aside. The unlikely scene barely even registered, even before she did the unthinkable.

She put her hand on my dick through my briefs, curling her fingers around it.

“Please don’t do that,” I groaned into her neck, rubbing her clit with my thumb faster and faster. I was pretty darn proud of myself for finding the clit right from the get-go, seeing as how I’d never fingered a chick. I felt the little nub, and went to town on it. All the shit I knew about sex, I’d learned from porn, so I knew the clit was the end game, and that torturing her with fingering was stage one in chain-orgasms-landia. I did it all by the book. I was a good student, but I had no experience to think of, because I’d been waiting for her.

Only she hadn’t waited for me.

Nope. Your brain’s not gonna go there right now, asshole.

“Why not? Am I doing it wrong?” she half-moaned, half-pleaded.

A lot of football groupies begged for my cock, but it always sounded needy and annoying. It felt like a song coming from Luna’s mouth. Not a shitty song. Not something by Katy Perry. A classic. Dare I say it? An Elvis Costello song.

“Everything you do is perfect, Moonshine, but I don’t wanna come in my briefs .”

“Why not? Is it bad?”

I shook my head, sucking on her nipple. We were so inexperienced. So clueless. This. This was what I wanted. To figure it all out together. And even though I had the notion that coming in my pants was not the studliest trick in the book, I couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck.” Without thinking, I took her hand and shoved it into my briefs. Her little fist wrapped around the silky, hot length of me immediately, and she gasped.

“That’s what you do to me, Luna Rexroth.”

“I love it.”

I love you.

Of course, I wasn’t dumb enough to say this. Not when we were in a compromising position and she wouldn’t believe the words.

Her hips began to buck and grind against me, and her eyes popped open in shock. “I think I’m…”

Coming.

She was coming. I could see it on her face. The way her eyes rolled back and she let out little frantic, throaty moans that almost broke my dick in half from all the blood rushing through it.

Smugness spread across my chest like hot wax. It was so pathetic that this was the first orgasm I’d given someone other than myself. It was even more pathetic that by the astonished look on her face, I could see Josh hadn’t been so successful in hitting the big O, and that made me stupidly, ridiculously, tragically happy.

She came all over my fingers at the same time I came all over her hand in my briefs. I’d never come so hard in my life. I was pretty sure I lost a pound or three in the process. I just came and came and came, the stream never-ending. And she was still holding my hard cock in her fist. I pulled my fingers out slowly, still staring her dead in the eyes. Her heavy-lidded eyes flared when I slurped every single drop of pussy juice from my hand.

“You’re insane,” she whispered contently.

“I’m going to eat your cunt until you go numb with orgasms,” I quipped, serious as a heart attack.

It took us a few minutes to pull our shit together and get dressed. Luna combed her hair with her hands, cleared her throat, and dashed toward the door.

“Okay. Yeah. So. The tea and the broth. Oh, and the Advils. Coming right up.”

“Moonshine?”

“Yeah?”

“You already did all those things.” I motioned to the Advil pack and empty bowl and mug sitting on her desk. “You were going to get me a shirt.”

“Of course,” she mumbled. “I knew that, obviously.”

Flustered, she made a beeline to the door, bumping into a wall on her way out. She took her phone with her before she left the room, throwing an accusing look my way. I stayed in her bed, sniffing the scent of her pussy on my fingers and replaying what had just happened on a loop. Her nipples against my tongue. Her clit swelling against the pads of my fingers. I stretched, patting the nightstand for the Cartier I’d removed before I got into her bath yesterday. My hand rested on something. An envelope? A letter?

I knew a repeat offense of getting into her shit was going to get me kicked out of her life for good, so I practiced self-control. I reached for my watch. There. Good boy. But as I did, I couldn’t help but notice FUCKING JOSH’s name on the sealed envelope.