Faking Perfection

20|Dirty

２０|Ｄｉｒｔｙ

"They really shouldn't trust you so much with access to the testing center..." I erupt into giggles as Mason kisses down the side of my neck, making me lose my train of thought. I'm sitting on his lap straddling him in the desk chair in what was supposed to be a study session for an upcoming English exam. I took one step into the room in my cheer practice clothes and that was all it took for him to take charge.

A part of me is terrified of how good his hands feel. How I'm feeling, and how quickly this is progressing is...scary. This fake relationship was supposed to be a trial run, but I never stopped to consider what would happen if it actually worked.

"We'll study," Mason says, his voice muffled in my neck. "Just a few more minutes." Running his hands down my back, they grasp my ass over the fabric of my tiny shorts, and he groans, his hard-on pressing against just the right spot on the thin material between my legs. "These shorts should be goddamn illegal."

"Mason!" I gasp when he lays me down right onto my back on top of this desk and rolls my t-shirt up, tucking it underneath the band of my sports bra. When his tongue rolls over the skin of my stomach, around my navel, I close my eyes and heave out a sigh of frustration. He's such a tease. "What if there are cameras in here?"

He pauses, glancing up at me from the position on my stomach, and it seriously looks like he's considering continuing, but eventually, he sighs and sits back again in the rolling chair. "You're right. The practice test is next to the bean bag," he says breathlessly.

I scoff. "And how exactly do you expect me to focus after that little performance?"

He's twirling a red pen around in his fingertips with a sly smile. "I think... If you pass this test...there will be a very nice incentive when I take you home after practice."

"Who would have thought I'd meet someone dirtier than me?" I ask out loud.

He chuckles, and the low vibrations of his voice have me focusing harder than ever.

***

I'm sticky and sweaty when I exit the gym. Mason is leaning against his Benz looking fine as hell. He changed into a comfortable sweatsuit with a backward ballcap, and when he opens his arms, I jump into them willingly, allowing him to spin me around in a circle.

"Hi." I grin. "I'm sweaty. Sorry."

"Good thing I'm about to make you sweatier." Kissing me deeply, I melt into his arms, holding the sides of his face to cherish it. Bask in it. Relish in it. We ignore the rest of the cheer team as they head for their cars and make out on top of the hood of his fancy Benz. When we finally come up for air, we're alone in the parking lot, just the two of us.

I don't care what people say any more about me fooling around with Mason. There's been a lot of talk around school, but I find myself ignoring the gossip more and more. Christy is proud of me, whereas Willow tries to talk sense into me every single day at lunch. It's not going to work. I'm in too deep with him, and there's no way in hell I'm coming back up anytime soon.

"How much time do you have?" He asks.

I check my phone for the time and groan. Now that my Dad is home, he's going to be checking in on my every move. I can easily make up a lie and say that practice went late, but it can't be that late. "Maybe thirty minutes or so?"

With a nod, he scoops me into his arms and places me in the backseat, following in behind me. His lips attach to mine once more, and when his hands roam down my body, when they slide underneath my t-shirt... It doesn't feel like it has with anyone else.