Page 97 of Wicked Dreams

Thinking of your mouth

[IMAGE]

Oh God.

It’s a dick pic.

I squirm in my seat, trying to ignore the sensations traveling between my legs. Why does the sight of his cock turn me on? Why is he sending me a picture of it? Is that real time?

He’s thinking of my mouth?

My mouth turns him on?

When the bell rings, I stow my bag, shoot a text to Riley that I’m running an errand, and make my way across the sprawling building to the athletic wing. I locate the boys’ locker room and hesitate outside it.

He said in.

So…

The door swings inward under my fingertips, and I walk inside.

It’s a mirrored layout to the girls’ down the hall, with rows of smaller lockers on one side and shower stalls on the other. Farther back are the bathrooms and sinks.

Caleb sits on a bench in the second row. He straddles it, his phone face-up between his knees. His gaze lifts, going from my shoes to my bare legs, all the way up to the skirt—I’ve somehow managed to avoid questions from Lenora and Robert about the pants—and my tucked-in shirt.

He leans back, exposing the top of his unbuttoned pants.

“I keep thinking about you.” His voice is husky. “Namely, that noise you make when you gag on my cock.”

I gulp.

He rises. “There’s a football game tonight.”

My brow furrows. “Okay?”

“We don’t have a game until Sunday afternoon. Come with me.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m good. I don’t like football.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You said the same about hockey, but…”

Yeah, I was proven wrong.

“I don’t want to be stared at.”

“You won’t.”

“Amelie will make fun of me.”

“She won’t,” he promises. His gaze turns calculating. “Do I need to give you something in return?”

There must be a song about making deals with devils… but I can’t think of any.

“I want to see my old house again,” I blurt out.

He goes still.

Well, minus his dick. That just seems to be stiffening, until it’s tenting his pants. They’re unbuttoned, but the zipper is hanging on.

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