Page 26 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

TWENTY-SIX

SUTTON

Hungry for his touch doesn't begin to describe the ache in my core or the need to comfort this man who just admitted he's imperfect.

When anyone looks at Greyson O'Ryan objectively, they can only come to one conclusion—he's the type of handsome that should come with a warning label.

He's perfectly proportioned, with hair to envy and beautiful blue eyes worthy of the Caribbean waters.

It takes only a few minutes for him to spin me around and make quick work of my jean shorts.

He lifts me off the ground, and I wrap my legs around him, crossing my ankles so I don't slip.

Greyson backs me against the side of the truck, kisses my neck, and moves my panties to the side.

He pinches and presses against my bundle of nerves.

I let out a sigh of appreciation as he dips one finger inside me, then two.

"So wet. I love hearing your juices sloshing," he says in a smooth, low baritone voice. "Do you want to come, Sutton? Do you want me to make you come?"

"Yes," I pant, almost breathless .

"How? You need to say it."

It's pitch-black other than the moon and stars, and he can't see my embarrassment. "I... I..."

"Sutton, please tell me how you want to be fucked."

Somehow, I manage to answer, "Just like this. Against the truck."

He keeps one arm under my butt, and I hear the distinct hiss of his belt buckle coming undone.

In one quick move, his erection teases my center that's still half-covered by my panties.

He grunts in dissatisfaction when his head hits cotton and not skin.

I push off his shoulders, attempting to lower myself so I can take them off.

Instead, I feel his knuckles tickling my folds as he rips my underwear in one fluid motion.

Greyson's tip hits against my clit, creating the friction I crave as I lower my hands to take off his shirt.

He doesn't make it easy, keeping his lips on my neck.

"Please," I beg. He stops just long enough for us to separate an inch or two, and I pull his shirt over his head and sling it into the back of the truck.

"You make me whole." The words slide off my tongue.

Swift and sure, Greyson lunges inside me, his pants still half on. But we can't stop this train of lust and want. He makes me feel better on the inside and the outside—like nothing I've ever experienced—and, obviously, he's a man who cares about pleasing me.

"Yesss!" I scream, and a chorus of flapping wings escapes the trees to find new surroundings.

Greyson strains, whispering in my ear, "You want it harder?"

"Yes."

He takes a step back and leans me back just a little more, and I hold on to the truck with one hand so I have a little more control over how I can move. The entire time, he's kissing me and whispering naughty words of encouragement and possession.

" You own me, Sutton Anders."

" I want to do every filthy thing your mind can imagine."

" You want it. I'll give it to you."

Thrusting upward into me at this angle is hitting a spot so incredibly needy that I call out his name, not knowing whether I want him to stop or continue. It's like when someone holds you down, tickling you. You want it to stop, yet you're smiling and laughing.

"Greyson. Greyson, it's too... too... much."

"Let go, baby, and when you do, shout my name again."

Greyson slips his finger over my puckered hole and presses at the same time as he swirls his hips, his erection growing inside me. I think he's about to climax, but I can't worry about him right now.

My inner walls clamp down on him and my body tightens, but he keeps pumping. I let go of the truck and wrap my arm around him to get some leverage. We're so tightly wound as I detonate.

"Come, baby. Doesn't it feel good to let go?" His voice is leathery and filled with desire. I don't know if I answer or not because I'm drifting among the stars.

He grips me tighter, snapping his hips with precision and urgency. Then a current runs through me as he releases a dark, throaty growl. He pulls out, spraying his cum.

Locked together, catching our breath, our bodies hum with leftover electricity. My skin tingles from the aftershocks, his heartbeat pounding against me as he keeps me safely in his arms. Heat radiates between us as he draws a ragged breath .

"I'm really going to have to buy some condoms," he says as he presses his forehead against mine. "You unravel me at my core, and I just lose myself in you," he mumbles over my mouth.

"Do you say that to all the ladies?" I ask in a teasing tone.

His head dips to my neck, nibbling. "I brought you to my favorite place on earth because I wanted to share it with you."

I chuckle. "Well, number ten, I saw stars, but not the ones in the sky. Just the ones you buried behind my lids." I slide my palms to his cheeks.

"Were they bright?"

"Blinding, actually. The kind that explodes with colors."

As Greyson gathers the pillows and blankets, my legs wobble as I hop around, trying to get my legs through my shorts in the dark.

I glance at Greyson with a giddy, secret smile in a post-sex daze.

He shakes the blankets out, arranges them perfectly with the pillows, and then we climb into the bed of his old Chevy.

He lies down first and lays one arm out horizontally. "I want you right here," he says, patting the spot on his chest. Greyson's shirt is back on but still unbuttoned. My heart pounds, realizing that this is the most romantic experience of my life.

I scoot in beside him, laying my head in the pocket between his chest and arm.

We snuggle in the cool night air and stare at the endless stars.

A shooting star glides across the sky, and he says, "Some people say that when you see a cardinal, it's your loved ones visiting, but for me.

.. when I see a shooting star, I know it's my mom trying to tell me something. Or give me advice."

"Hmm... what do you think she's telling you right now? "

"That she's glad I'm home and happy."

I turn on my side and lift my chin, tracing his chest hair with my fingers. "Being home makes you happy?"

"You make me happy."

His words rain over my thoughts, soft and stunning all at once.

For a girl who spent her life chasing approval and loving the wrong man simply because we grew up together, being the reason Greyson's happy is an admission I never thought I would hear from any man, much less one of the best quarterbacks in the league.