Kiss and drama

Chapter Four— kiss and drama

Elle's POV

The bell for lunch rang, but I barely heard it over the buzz in my head. Roseanne had vanished after first period, slipping into the crowd like a ghost. I scanned the halls, my heart pounding with a mix of guilt and that dark hunger that never quit. Where the fuck was she? I needed to see her, to touch her arm, feel her skin under my fingers. Maybe slide my hand higher, under her skirt in some empty classroom, press my thigh against her pussy till she gasped. Make her forget whatever bullshit Jake fed her. But she was gone, and it ate at me.

I pushed through the throng of kids heading to the cafeteria, eyes darting to every corner. Lockers slammed, laughter echoed, but no sign of her messy hair or those swollen eyes. My mind raced with dirty thoughts—picturing her alone somewhere, crying, her tits heaving with each sob. I'd find her, wipe those tears with my tongue, suck on her neck till I left marks. Claim her as mine, fuck her slow against a desk till she begged for more. The ache between my legs grew, my panties damp just from the fantasy.

Then I spotted him. Jake, leaning against a wall near the gym, flanked by two giggling sophomores. One had her hand on his arm, flipping her hair, while the other pressed close, her tits almost spilling out her low-cut top. He grinned that cocky smile, whispering something that made them laugh. Fresh off dumping Roseanne, and already flirting like the slut he was. Rage boiled up, hot and violent. How dare he move on so quick, after breaking her? I wanted to rip his balls off, make him scream like I'd make Roseanne scream in pleasure.

I stormed over, shoving past a kid in my way. "Hey, fuckface," I snarled, grabbing his collar and slamming him back against the wall. The girls gasped, stepping away wide-eyed.

"What the hell, Elle?" Jake spat, his face twisting in surprise. Blood from yesterday's slap still showed faint on his lip. Good.

"What did you say to her?" I demanded, my face inches from his. I could smell his cheap cologne, see the fear flicker in his eyes. "Roseanne looks like shit. What crap did you text her?"

He tried to shove me off, but I held firm, my stud vibe kicking in—leather jacket tight, muscles tensed. "None of your business, dyke. Get off me."

The word stung, but it fueled me. I slammed him harder, his head thunking the wall. The girls muttered and backed up more. "Show me the text. Now."

"Fuck you." He sneered, but his hand shook as he pulled out his phone. Dumbass actually unlocked it and scrolled to the messages. There it was—the breakup thread. "Needed space," my ass. He'd gone low: "You're too fat for me anyway. Tits are saggy, ass is flat. Find someone who likes sloppy seconds."

Body shaming? That piece of shit. Roseanne was perfect—curves that made my mouth water, tits I'd kill to bury my face in, ass I'd spank red. How could he say that? Fury exploded. I kneed him hard in the balls, feeling the soft give as he doubled over, gasping. Then I punched his face, once, twice, till blood sprayed from his nose again, hotter this time. He crumpled to the floor, wheezing, clutching his crotch.

"You bitch," he groaned, blood dripping onto the tiles. The girls screamed and ran off, probably to tattle.

"Stay away from her," I hissed, kicking his side for good measure. "Or those pics go everywhere." I turned and walked away, adrenaline pumping, my knuckles stinging. Fuck him. Now to find her.

I headed to the art wing, the quiet part of school where kids hid out. Roseanne loved painting—said it calmed her. I checked the first classroom, empty except for easels and paint smells. Second one, a teacher grading sketches. Third—there she was. In the corner, hunched on a stool, face buried in her hands. Sobs shook her shoulders, quiet but gut-wrenching. Her backpack lay forgotten, a half-done canvas smeared with blues and grays, like her mood.

"Rose?" I whispered, slipping in and shutting the door soft. The room was dim, lights off except for a window glow. She looked up, eyes puffy, cheeks streaked with tears. Mascara ran black down her face. Fuck, even wrecked, she was hot—lips full from biting them, tits straining her shirt with each hitch of breath.

"Elle..." Her voice broke. She wiped her eyes, but fresh tears came.

I crossed the room quick, dropping to my knees in front of her. "Hey, hey. What happened? Talk to me." My hands went to her thighs, squeezing gentle through her jeans. Skin warm, soft. I wanted to slide higher, unzip her, finger her slow while she cried it out. Comfort her with orgasms, make her pussy clench around me till the pain faded.

She shook her head, sniffling. "Jake... he broke up with me. Said awful things."

"That asshole." I pulled her into a hug, her head on my shoulder. Her tits pressed against mine, nipples hard from the chill or emotion. I inhaled her scent—shampoo and salt from tears. My pussy throbbed, dark urges rising. I stroked her back, fingers tracing her spine, dipping low to her ass crack almost. "You're better off. He's trash."

She clung to me, hands fisting my jacket. "He said I'm fat. Saggy. Not sexy." Her voice muffled in my neck, breath hot on my skin.

"Lies." I pulled back a bit, cupping her face. Thumbs wiped her tears, but I leaned in, licking one salty drop from her cheek. She shivered. "You're fucking gorgeous. Tits perfect, ass I'd die for. Any girl—or guy—would kill to touch you."

Her eyes met mine, confused but soft. We were close, noses brushing. Her lips parted, breath shaky. The air thickened, charged. I couldn't stop. I closed the gap, kissing her soft at first. Her lips tasted like chapstick and tears—sweet, addictive. She froze, but didn't pull away. Fuck, yes. I deepened it, tongue slipping in, tasting her deep. She moaned soft, kissing back tentative. Her hands slid to my neck, pulling me closer.

Heat exploded between us. My hands roamed, one cupping her tit through her shirt, thumb circling her nipple. It hardened instant, poking hard. She gasped into my mouth, but still didn't stop. I pinched gentle, imagining sucking it raw, biting till she bruised. My other hand grabbed her ass, squeezing hard, pulling her off the stool onto my lap. She straddled me, pussy grinding against my thigh through clothes. Wet heat seeped through—fuck, she was soaked. I rocked her, tongue fucking her mouth like I'd fuck her cunt later.

"Elle..." she whispered when we broke for air, eyes dazed, lips swollen.

"Sorry," I blurted, panic hitting. What if I pushed too far? "I didn't mean—"

But before she could respond, the speakers crackled loud in the hall outside. "Elle Thompson and Jake Harlan, report to the principal's office immediately. Elle Thompson and Jake Harlan to the principal's office."

Shit. Deep trouble. Those girls must've snitched about the fight. Roseanne blinked, still confused, her body flush against mine. "What... what just happened?"

"I gotta go," I said, standing quick, helping her up. My lips tingled from the kiss, pussy aching for more. But the dark romance in my head paused—for now. "We'll talk later. Promise."

She nodded, touching her lips, eyes wide.