As you cross the parking lot you can feel his eyes on you. Watching you from behind the aviators he wears, crawling all over your body. It's been a week and a half since he fucked you against the wall in Steve's bathroom. The longest week and a half, and you've pleasured yourself thinking about it almost every night since. You want it again. Him again. He knows it too. You've been teasing him without words ever since. Wearing clothes you know will make him look at you. He's been teasing you back. Three days after the bathroom, you bent over in front of him in math to pick up a pen you'd dropped, giving him an eyeful of your tits, pushed up in the blouse you'd worn knowing how it made them look. When you stood up your eyes met his. The tip of his tongue between his teeth. A few days later when you handed out books in class his fingers had purposefully brushed yours as you passed one to him and you'd bitten your lip at the spark it shot through your body to your core. He'd smirked. Then yesterday you reached past him in the cafeteria, your chest pushed up against his arm, your nipples hardening on contact with him. He watched you as you did it, his mouth open just a little. You winked as you walked away. Later that afternoon he'd squeezed past you in the packed hallway, and he'd pressed his crotch against your ass as he did it, his hand on your hip, and you'd gasped out loud at the feel of his hard cock through his jeans and your skirt. Steve had turned to you, questioning with his eyes. Billy was gone. You told him you bit your tongue. Last night you'd mouthed Billy's name into Steve's chest wordlessly as he made love to you. You didn't come, but once he was asleep you'd snaked your hand under the covers and brought yourself off, thinking about Billy. And now he's watching you. A cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. You climb into your car, start it up, pull out of your space. You stop briefly in front of his Camaro as he leans on it. Gesture with your head for him to follow you. As you leave the parking lot you check your mirror. His Camaro is behind you. You smile.
You sit in the passenger seat of his car. He's watching you. He asks why you let him fuck you in the bathroom. You tell him you wanted to. He asks if you want to now. You say yes. He reaches between your legs, pulls the lever to slide your seat all the way back, and then he climbs over, kneels in the footwell in front of you. He reaches down the side of your seat, fiddles with something and then you're laying almost flat as your seat reclines. His hands are on your legs, moving up your thighs. He's pushing your skirt up, bunches it around your waist. Your panties are soaked already, just like before. There's a spreading wet patch on them and he eyes it as he brushes his index finger down over your clit on top of the wet material, stopping right over your entrance. He hooks the material to the side and the cold air on your wetness makes you shiver slightly. Billy never takes his eyes off your swollen folds. He runs his finger between them and you arch your back slightly and moan a little, a moan that turns into a gasp as he pushes that finger into you. He tells you you're so wet and you laugh a little at his tone of surprise. He thrusts his finger into you hard, cutting your laughter off, turning it into a moan of pleasure. He asks you if you like that. You nod. He does it again, once, twice, three times, fucking you with his finger. You clench around it and lift your hips. You tell him you want him to fuck you. He shakes his head. Not yet he tells you, a smirk on his lips as he pulls out his finger. He slips your panties down over your thighs and you draw your knees up so he can take them off completely. Once they're gone, abandoned in the footwell, you spread your legs for him, your feet pressed to the doorframe and the dashboard behind him, opening yourself up to him. Still smirking, he spreads you open with his fingers and bites his lip. He pushes his finger back into you, slowly, watching it sink into you. He wants the Queen of Hawkins High to beg he says as he adds a second finger to the first. Your eyes roll back. You'll never beg. His other hand is unbuttoning your blouse, and he realises you're not wearing a bra. He grabs your breast, kneading it in his hand, his fingertips digging into your flesh as his other hand fucks you. He rolls your nipple in his fingers and pinches it and you cry out. He asks you if you like that. Yes you breathe. Tell me he says. So you tell him. You tell him you like it when he makes it hurt. He smiles, and his fingers are pinching again, twisting. You come out of nowhere, your back arching and your cunt clamping down on his fingers as he thrusts into you. His hand is drenched in your juices. You ask him to fuck you again. You say please this time. He shakes his head again. His fingers are stroking now, stroking your wet folds, moving over your clit, dancing over your pussy, brushing lower, over the puckered hole just below it. You stiffen slightly and Billy grins. He asks you if Steve has ever fucked you here as he presses down with his finger a little and you swallow as you shake your head. He asks if he's tried to. You shake your head again and Billy laughs. He should he tells you, still teasing with his finger. He tells you you'd like it, if it's done properly. Maybe I will someday he says, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow in question and you hear yourself whispering maybe. He smiles. His fingers trail back up and begin a slow circular pattern around and over your clit. Why me Billy asks, watching himself touch you. You moan softly. He asks again as he moves his fingers away, and you thrust your hips forward in search of them. You were just there you tell him, and his fingers resume their play. He asks you what you mean. You tell him you fucked him because you wanted to get back at Steve as you roll your head back, losing yourself in the pleasure he's giving you. He asks you if Steve does this. Sometimes you whisper. Billy asks you if Steve makes you come. You shake your head. Billy frowns. Never he asks? Never you tell him. Billy's fingers quicken, as if determined to do what Steve has never done, to outdo him. You moan and shudder under his fingers. He asks you if Steve knows you fucked him in his bathroom. You ask him again to fuck you. Please you tell him. Please fuck me. You tell him you need him inside you, that you want him. You're begging, and then he's inside you, filling you, fucking you, his cock stretching you open around him. You cry out. His lips are on your nipple, and then his teeth, biting and tugging. I knew you'd beg he tells you. You moan loudly, tell him to shut up and fuck you. He does. He pounds into you, over and over, his thumb on your clit and his mouth around your nipple and you're coming, clenching around him and scratching his shoulders with your nails. He slows a little. Does Steve know he asks you again, a finger tracing the place he left the perfect print of his teeth, long since vanished. You shake your head again. You ask him why he keeps asking about Steve. Deep down you know why. He wants Steve to know. He wants Steve to know that he's fucked his girlfriend, you, that he's had the Queen of Hawkins High, that he's fucked you and made you come and done things to you that Steve has never done, talked about doing things that Steve would never want to, and you liked it. You wanted it. You wanted him, Billy Hargrove, Hawkins bad boy, even if just for a fuck. You don't even hear his answer, you don't need to. You know. You take his hand from your hip, move it up to your throat, put it there with your hand over it and you squeeze a little. You look into his eyes and tell him to fuck you. The words are barely out of your mouth when he's leaning into you, pushing your knees back into your chest and his hand is tight around your throat and his cock, oh Jesus his cock is so fucking deep in you you think you might cry. He's fucking you furiously and you can barely breathe, and then his fingers tighten and you can't, and he's still fucking you deeper and harder than you've ever been screwed by Steve and it hurts in the best way but you still want more. Your lips move soundlessly and just as your eyes roll back and your orgasm peaks you hear him cry out, his name on your lips without sound, and he's coming in you, his cock twitching and jerking in your cunt as you tighten around him like his hand around your throat. Just when you think you might pass out he lets go and the air hurtles into your lungs, cold and painful, prickling like needles. He pulls out and you feel so empty you ache. He wipes your pussy with your panties, wiping away the trickle of his seed as it spills out of you, and then he tucks them into his pants pocket. For later he tells you with a wink. You shuffle your skirt down as Billy climbs back into his own seat. Without a word you leave him there, getting back into your own car. You don't look back as you drive away.