Page 105 of Break Me (Brayshaw High 5)

He’s so raw and primal. Perfect.

I can’t believe this is me, us. I feel like I’m about to burst and he’s hardly touched me, but there’s something about being naked and in his grasp that has me teetering.

I’m on the edge of addictive insanity, wicked decisions, and life-changing trials.

And I’m ready for it.

If Royce is with me, I’m so ready for it.

I tear away from him, push against his chest to force him a space away, and lower my naked ass onto his comforter. I scoot until my palms reach his pillow and fall onto my back.

I don’t cower or cover.

I lie there, bared to him, body and soul.

But he’s yet to look.

His eyes, they hold mine, and then he stands tall, to his full height and right at the edge of his giant bed.

In a slow, thorough, perusal, his eyes rake over me inch by inch, the muscles in his jaw flexing when they reach my waxed center. Chills run over me, bringing goose bumps to the surface when his tongue slips out to wet the corner of his mouth.

His eyes snap to mine, a raw, rush of possession swimming within them.

“This is my bed, Tink. My room,” he rasps. “You look damn good in it.”

“Want to know how I feel in it?”

He nods, the muscles of his arms flexing.

“Lonely.”

A quick laugh bursts from him and I grin, settling into the pillow more.

“Strip for me.”

His head falls back slightly, his teeth pulling in the plumpest part of his bottom lip. “What will you be doing while I’m doing that?”

“Anything you want.”

He groans, his hand falling to the bulge in his jeans and squeezing, eyes lowering to the neediest part of me.

He doesn’t have to say it, the way he grips himself, the change in his breathing, says it all.

I pull my knee up slightly, gliding the side of my hand along my breastbone in the timidest of touches, more of a graze, to warn my body of what’s to come, and only go lower from there.

I slide my hand down my stomach, slowly circling my piercings, and when my fingertips reach my bare pussy, they pause, lightly gliding back and forth.

His mouth is open, eyes dark, and when he realizes I’ve stopped, they pop up to mine with an angry flare.

I pop a brow and fight a grin.

He tips his head, raising one right back, and wastes no time unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders, his tan, tattooed skin stirring even more heat inside me.

I lower my fingers to my clit and push down with two fingers, swirling and adding more and more pressure, the sight of his naked chest, strong, flexing abs and ink working wonders.

I lick my lips and his hands fall to his pants, unbuckling and unzipping with a deliberate, snail-like pace, but I’m here for it.

It’s a perfect lead-up to the grand prize.

His jeans disappear, the tip of his cock straining to get free of his briefs. He’s hard and ready and I’m wet and needy.

I slide my hands farther, open my legs wider, and watch him trail my fingers as they disappear inside me.

He moans and then his boxers are gone.

All that’s left in front of me is him, thick and solid. Aching.

My other hand comes down to join in on the fun, and I slowly pump in and out of myself while my free fingers rub and press against my clit.

My stomach muscles tighten, my eyes zoned in on his cock, and when it bobs in the air, my pussy clenches.

His knee comes up, planting onto the mattress and I gasp, swirl faster, drive my fingers deeper.

Another knee and I’m panting, and then he’s crawling up my body, his lips gliding along my leg, kissing across my thigh until he’s gently biting into my knuckles.

My hands fly up, clamping on to his head, and his tongue takes their place.

I thought I’d be nervous or embarrassed, but I’m neither of those things.

The last thing I want to do is hide from him, miss anything this night has to offer.

I push up into him. “Make me come,” I pant.

He doesn’t deny me.

He growls and sucks, licks and pulls, and then his lips close around my clit, and he twirls his tongue, sucking at the same time. My legs begin to shake.

He grasps my thighs and slides around to my ass. He squeezes, rolling my hips as if I were riding him, and a liquid fire builds inside me.

“Damn I—” I moan. “I need to — oh my god right there,” I gasp, my head driving into the pillow, my back flying off of the bed and now it’s me rocking my hips. Chasing. My body seizes, but he doesn’t let up, his warm tongue continues to dance along me and I can’t hold it in.