Havoc at Prescott High Page 46
“Motor oil,” he says, and I cock a brow. “Gotta get it off somehow. If you start with coconut oil, that'll take off the majority. But there's always some stubborn stickiness. Little bit of dish soap, and a sugar scrub with a pumice stone knocks off the rest.” Ah, so that explains the coconut smell then … Hael reaches up a hand to brush some pink-tinged hair back, sliding a single fingertip along my collarbone. “Can't be touching pretty girls like you with oil-covered hands.”
“Right.” A snort escapes me, but I don't move, letting him curl an inked arm around my waist and tug me just a bit closer. “So, I know why I'm out here. Why are you?”
“What do you mean?” Hael asks, tossing the butt of his joint to the ground and crushing it out with his boot. His words are innocent enough, but there's a devilish curve to his mouth that says he knows otherwise. “Giving you a ride home is hardly a hardship. Are you sure you don't want to sit in my lap on the way?”
“Vic is your best friend,” I say, and Hael gives me a weird look.
“So?” he says, acting all innocent as fuck when we both know there's an underlying reason for us both being out here. “What does any of this have to do with Vic? I mean, other than you trying to piss him off by screwing me. Won't work, you know. There's a reason we wanted a Havoc Girl, after all.”
My mouth purses into a thin line.
“Yeah?” I quip, my voice turning hard. “And what, exactly, was that reason?”
Hael snorts a laugh and scoots back in the seat, dragging me along with him. He's already got the damn thing pushed back as far as it'll go, leaving me with barely enough room to breathe between his body and the steering wheel when he closes the door on us.
“Ask Victor, you two are so damn close,” Hael says, eyes sparkling as he puts one hand on either of my hips. “I'll admit something. I just had a real bad break-up, and I'm horny as fuck. My motivation is to let Brittany know that I'm banging a girl twice as hot as she is.” He shrugs his shoulders and gives me a look. There's something that doesn't quite ring true about his statement, but what does it matter?
“Brittany, huh?” I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. He's wearing a black wifebeater, so his tattooed skin is bare, scorching beneath my palms. “She the cheerleader from Fuller High?”
“Yep.” Hael slides his hands up my waist and under my crop-top sweater, pushing it up and out of his way. I'm aware we're sitting just behind the school, in a place that anyone could stumble on us, but I don't really care. I mean, that's sort of the point of all this, isn't it? I'm a Havoc Girl. Havoc rules this school. God help anyone that peeps in on us. Anyone that isn't Vic …
Because I want him to see.
He challenged me, so here I am. Here I fucking am.
Hael tosses my sweater aside and then runs his hands over the lacey cups of my bra. It's the one that Vic gave me in the bag of clothes the other day, and as much as I hate to admit it, it fits a million times better than the ones I was wearing before.
“Damn, girl,” Hael growls, running his thumbs over the pert points of my nipples. Hard to believe this is the same kid who held my hand through a whole night in the homeless shelter all those years ago.
I let my head fall back and try to remember how to breathe. My heart is racing so fast I feel dizzy, and my pulse is thundering so loud in my head I can hardly hear the radio when Hael leans forward to turn it on. I recognize the song Fire Up The Night by New Medicine.
Hael's hands are pure fire as he skims them over my aching skin, working my nipples through the lace with his thumbs. Unlike Vic, Hael Harbin is in complete control of himself. I can feel his confidence when he slips the lace over my breasts and then palms the full mounds with a groan.
“Damn, Blackbird, you've got some nice tits,” he grinds out, leaning forward and giving me this wicked look before flicking his hot tongue out to taste my nipple. My back arches automatically, offering my breast to his hungry mouth as he sucks greedily and then gently bites the hardened peak. A gasp slips out of me, and I find myself curling my fingers in his hair to gain some semblance of control.
My head is bowed over because of the low roof, so I end up wrapped around Hael as he teases both nipples until they're painful and aching. When he pulls back, the wetness on those pert pink points makes them feel icy cold, and I put his hands right back where they were.
“Let's get some of these clothes off,” he purrs, reaching down to undo the button on my jeans. As soon as he does, he slips his hand in to see what we're working with here. Lucky for him, I'm soaked through already. “Fuck,” he groans as I grab his wrist and push his inked hand under the silken fabric of my undies, the same ones Vic gave me that I washed last night.
Hael's fingers tease my folds as he looks up at me with eyes the color of honey, and runs his tongue over his full, lower lip. I won't lie: I've wondered before what it might be like to fuck Hael Harbin. And I have to say, so far I'm not disappointed.
Using my own wetness for lube, Hael works my clit with his thumb, this strong, steady pressure that has me quivering and sweating before the song's even over.
Scrambling for the door handle, I press down on it and push Hael's hand away at the same time.
He must know what I'm up to because he just grins as he strips off his shirt and chucks it into the back seat. There I am, bare-breasted and stripping my jeans off in a deserted parking lot, my heart thundering like crazy as I wonder who might be watching.
When I climb back in, shoving my jeans into the passenger seat, I find that Hael's already one step ahead of me. He's not only undone his own pants, but he's in the process of fanning out a sea of condoms for me to look at.
“Your choice, baby,” he says as I straddle his thighs and yank the door closed behind me, trapping us together with the smell of leather and sex. “I've got different colors, ribbed options, different flavors …”
“Don't get too excited,” I say, snatching a red condom that matches his hair. There's a hitch in my voice, a breathless sort of quality that belies my insistence that this is all a chore, that I'm doing this out of duty. I'm here because I want to be here. “There's not nearly enough room in here for a blow job.”
“Tomorrow morning then?” he asks, as I reach down and wrap my hand around his shaft, giving it a squeeze. “I'll pick you up before school?”
I meet his eyes and then lean forward, letting a bit of saliva well up on the edge of my lips and drip to the head of his cock before working him with my fist. He's got a piercing on the tip that I tease with my thumb, mimicking the way he touched me first.
“Maybe.” I look down at Hael, lounging back on his red and black leather seat, ink tracing his muscular arms. He doesn't have nearly as much work as, say, Oscar, but it's impressive, for someone who's not-quite-eighteen to be sporting so much skin art. Technically, it's illegal to get tattooed under the age of eighteen in Oregon, but illegal doesn't mean impossible. I'm sure he has his contacts the same way I have mine. “Put this on,” I say, handing over the condom and giving him a few last pumps with my fist while he opens it.
It occurs to me that we haven't kissed yet.