Page 68 of My Best Friend's Bully

She points to an empty corner of a table that is otherwise covered in her textbooks and papers. I set the food bag down in the space and glance around the room, taking in the quiet of the place. It’s so unlike the constant chatter at my workplace that it takes me a moment to relax. Jordan closes the door and comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and leaning her head against my back.

“I missed you.” She squeezes me tightly.

I wrap my hands around hers and hold them and turn in her grasp so that we are face to face. She looks up at me, eyes sparkling. “Jordan, did you bring me here to seduce me?”

She pushes me forward with her hips against mine until I bump into the table. Without speaking, she wedges herself in between my legs, pressing herself against me. I start to grow hard and can’t resist teasing up the hem of her shirt, sliding my hand up the soft plane of her stomach to the mound of her breast. Her kiss is light, teasing, and I can taste the faint hint of coffee on her lips. I want more of her, and I use the tip of my tongue to part her lips as my fingers find her nipple.

She squirms at my touch, grinding against my lap with a needy urgency.

“I want to bend you over this table right now.” I glance behind her at the door, noting its lack of a lock. “But I don’t want to get you kicked out of school.”

Her response is wordless, a breathless sort of moan as my other hand comes down to rub her through her jeans. I can feel the warm heat of her against my palm and the bulge in my pants is making it very obvious that I shouldn’t let something like the absence of a silly lock stop me. But one of us needs to stay level-headed. I unbutton her jeans and slide my hand inside, finding her wet and ready for me. She rubs against the pressure from my palm until I sink two fingers inside her, earning a satisfied groan.

Her breath is hot against my shoulder and her hands grip my arms as I drag the wetness up, using it to slide my fingertip over her clit.

“Quiet now,” I say when she gasps. “Bite down if you have to.”

She obeys, teeth sinking into my shoulder, her breathing coming faster as I bring her closer to the edge. When she comes, she shudders against me in waves, fingers digging into my skin, her cries muffled by my shoulder. Boneless, she slumps against me and I slide my hand free, wrapping my arms around her to support her unsteady legs.

“That… was not what I was planning. I promise.” Her words are muted by the fabric against her face, but I make out the telltale blush across her cheeks. “Do you think anyone heard me?”

“No,” I say, smoothing her hair. “You were quiet as a mouse. No one will suspect a thing.”

“I’m a little embarrassed.” She tilts her head to kiss my neck.

I wonder if she’s even aware of how obvious it is that I want her, how close I was to breaking my word and taking her then and there. Even now, my erection is straining to burst through my jeans.

“How do you think I feel, about to come in my pants like a high school boy?” I ask with a laugh.

She pulls back, eyes wide as she looks at my lap. “Oh. I didn’t realize. I can—”

“I can wait. Let’s eat before it gets cold, and next time I’ll come prepared for your library seductions.”

She blushes deeper, straightening her blouse and tucking her hair behind her ears. If it weren’t for the glow on her cheeks, no one would suspect a thing.

“What did you bring?” She stands on her tiptoes to peer into the bag.

“Sandwiches, chips, drinks. I figured we’d need food that’s handheld and not too messy. Nothing that would get in the way of your homework.” I pull out the food and give her the pick of the options. “And a bag of sour worms.”

Her face lights up and I can’t help rolling my eyes in amusement.

“I thought maybe you’d forgotten the most important part of any meal,” she says, snatching the bag of worms from my hand with a mischievous grin. “And I would’ve had to send you right out to the vending machine to rectify it.”

“If some day I don’t bring dessert, it’s not because I forgot, it’s because I’m saving you from an early death by heart attack or diabetes.” I shake my head and unwrap my sandwich, situating myself in the uncomfortable wooden chair. “Jesus, are these from the seventies? I feel like I’m in my middle school library.”

Jordan, smaller by half, slides into her chair and tucks her feet up beneath her, already breaking into the bag of candy. “They’re not made for comfort, they’re made to keep you alert through hours of brain-numbing studying. If they gave us recliners, we’d be asleep and flunking out in minutes.”

“Surely there’s a middle ground,” I say, shifting. The chair creaks, threatening to spit me out onto the floor if I don’t sit still. “That’s it. I’m going to replace every chair on this floor.”

She looks up at me over her notes. “You will not. Now, grab that stack there and alphabetize it for me, would you?”

“Am I being paid by the hour or is it salary?” I quip, but I grab the stack of cards and start flipping through them. There’s nowhere I would rather be, not for any amount of money, and we both know it.

“It’s kisses. You’re being paid in kisses.”

“I don’t remember signing that contract. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?” I ask.

It hasn’t been easy, balancing Jordan’s schedule with how much I’d like to see her, but I know it’s the right thing in the long run. She sets the schedule, letting me know when she’s available, and I work my more flexible schedule around hers. So far, it’s worked, and her grades are steady.

---