Penelope will kiss James

Life flooded back into her body. Penelope’s chest rose with a slow, deep breath. Her smoky eyes blinked open, locking straight onto James. A slow, predatory smirk tugged at the corner of her glossy lips.

Without a word she stepped forward, combat boots planted firm on the tile. She reached up, cupping his face in both strong hands, thumbs stroking along his jaw like she was claiming him right there in the middle of the hallway. Then she leaned down, dark waves of hair spilling around them, and slammed her mouth against his.

The kiss hit like a freight train, it was deep, filthy, and shamelessly hungry. Her lips were soft but demanding, parting instantly so her tongue could slide hot and wet against his, stroking deep, tasting him like she’d been starving for it. A low, raspy growl rumbled up from her chest and poured straight into his mouth as she tilted her head and kissed him harder, tongue curling, sucking, owning every second.

One hand fisted tight in his hair, yanking him closer; the other slid down to grip the back of his neck, fingers digging in just enough to make his knees weak. Her leather jacket creaked as she pressed her whole body into him with her full, heavy breasts crushing soft and warm against his chest, wide hips rolling forward so the thick, plush curve of her ass flexed under those tight black jeans. She kissed like a biker chick who took what she wanted: messy, passionate, and dripping with raw sex.

James’s hands found her waist on instinct, fingers digging into the leather as she devoured him, her breath hot and ragged against his cheek, tongue flicking teasingly before plunging back in deeper.

When she finally broke the kiss, she didn’t pull far away. She rested her forehead against his, lips still brushing, breathing hard and heavy. A thin string of spit connected them for half a second before it snapped.

She stayed right there, voice rolling out low and rough against his mouth with that same cocky, arrogant drawl Drake used to throw around like a blade, except now it scraped through gravel and smoke, slower, heavier, and edged with something a lot hotter.

“Hey, James…” she rasped, voice thick with heat and satisfaction, that same bully swagger still riding every syllable but wrapped in something warmer, hungrier, and all hers now. “Use the stone so no one cares that Drake is gone and lets head to class.”

Penelope gave his bottom lip one last teasing nip with her teeth, then pulled back just enough to flash him a wicked smirk that promised this was only the beginning.

"I wish that no one questions Penelope's appearance and that she replaced Drake," James used the stone feeling it pulse in his hands as the hallway kept moving around them. Students laughing and shoving past, completely oblivious that the biggest asshole in school had just been rewritten into the girl now looking at James like he was already hers.

The words barely left his mouth before Penelope moved.

The words were still hanging in the air when Penelope’s arm snapped around James’s waist like a steel cable. She hauled him in hard, crushing him flush against her so his face sank straight into the warm, pillowy valley between her full breasts. Leather creaked. Fabric muffled everything. Her chin dropped protectively onto the top of his head, locking him there in a shield of heat and muscle and soft curves.

James’s cheek pressed tight to the thin band-tee stretched across her chest. He could feel the heavy, steady thud of her heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of each breath, the way her body curved around him like it had been built for exactly this.

One of her hands cradled the back of his skull, fingers threading slow and possessive through his hair.

Pressed so close, he was the only one who caught the low, venomous mutter that rumbled straight through her chest and into his ear — rough gravel and smoke, pure irritation wrapped in that familiar drawl. “Fucking prick… just had to open his goddamn mouth and ruin the best part.”

Mr. Boyle was already walking past, oblivious, calling back over his shoulder, “Five minutes, people. Don’t make me write you up!”

Those words didn't make Penelope didn’t let go. If anything, her grip tightened, keeping James buried against her soft, warm cleavage as if the rest of the world could wait.

She gave him a tiny, possessive squeeze, hips shifting so her thick thigh brushed his. Her breath ghosted hot against his scalp as she pressed one last slow kiss to the top of his head.

“Stay right here a second longer,” she rasped, voice low and only for him. “Let the asshole disappear first.”