Page 55 of Break You

As we walked across the lot to the elevator, I spoke up. “On second thoughts, I think I’m just gonna—”

“Gonna what?” He turned sharply toward me.

“Roll on home. I should have just done that in the first place. Or at least had you drop me at the subway or something.”

“Well, you didn’t, and you’re here now.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to be. I didn’t sign up for this bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

“This playing nicey-nicey crap. I mean, we’re not dating. We don’t even like each other.”

“Jesus. You’re starting to sound like a broken record. This is why I don’t bring people back here. What is it with women?” He seemed to be talking to himself more than anything, so I kept quiet. “One vaguely civil conversation, and now you’re having an existential fucking crisis. Take a chill pill. So, we didn’t argue for fifteen minutes, big deal. I’m not about to get down on one knee and pop the question or some shit. We’re not running away to Vegas to elope. Hell, we’re not even going to say hi to each other when we pass in the halls. We’re still very much adversaries who like to fuck.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Like is a strong word. We’re adversaries who fuck. There’s a difference.”

“Semantics.”

“That’s as may be, but semantics are important. At least they are to me, anyway. I don’t like anything about you. Yeah, the sex is pretty okay, but that’s the beginning and end—”

“Christ almighty, woman, would you stop analyzing and over-analyzing everything. We’re not in psych class now, and I gotta say, it’s a total vibe killer.”

“Well you’d better call the wa-mbulance, because I don’t give a fuck about your vibe.” As though I’d planned it that way, the elevator doors pinged open as I said those words. Xavier looked thunderous, then stepped back into the elevator pulling me with him.

We were on each other before the doors had closed behind us. As we bit, licked, sucked and fingered, Xavier reached behind him to a touchpad, and the elevator lurched into action, I guessed heading for the penthouse, because… Loaded Boy. Not that I cared, at that point.

By the time the elevator dinged open again in the foyer of Xavier’s apartment, both of us were only partially dressed. Xavier did the honors, grabbing our discarded clothing, before scooping me into his arms. My brain screamed no, but my legs instinctively folded around his waist, and I continued devouring his mouth as he walked me backward into the space. As he strode further, an alarm went off somewhere in my brain.

“Not the bedroom.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to fuck in the bedroom.”

“What the ever-loving hell? Where then?” He looked at me as though I was a card-carrying lunatic, and maybe he wasn’t too far wrong.

“Anywhere. Just not there.”

He carried on walking, turning a corner at the end of the hall, into what I discovered was a huge open-concept living area. That one room was bigger than my entire apartment. He stalked over to a high console table and lowered me to it.

“Okay?” He looked plenty pissed, but I didn’t give a fuck.

“Yeah, fine.” I pulled his mouth back to mine, and sucked hard on his bottom lip. He reared back to speak again.

“Can you get the shorts off with the skates on?” I nodded. “Good, I don’t have the patience to wait for you to undo all those laces.” He wasn’t the only one. Besides, I found the idea of being fucked wearing my skates as hot as all hell. He clearly did too, as no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he was dragging my shorts and panties down my legs and off over my skates.

Having already shed my shirt and bra on the way up to the apartment, I again felt disconcertingly exposed. When it came to sex with Xavier, I liked it quick, dirty, and dispassionate. Intimacy had no place between us, but we’d come too far to turn back, so I pushed my hesitation to the side, instead focusing on the pleasure flooding my body. I was on fire with arousal.

Once I was disrobed, Xavier stood back slightly, removing his own shoes and pants—he was free balling with no underwear in sight—evening up the score. As I watched him strip, and roll on a condom, I took in his fine form again. He really was something, but I resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his lightly tattooed chest. I wanted to ask him about some of the ink, but I held back on that too. It felt too intimate and personal. Not what either of us had signed up for.

He looked up, and catching me staring, gave me a wry almost-smile.

“What?” His voice was thick with arousal. I was starting to get addicted to that tone—the one that told me that he was as hot for me as I was for him.

“Nothing. Let’s do this.”

He looked as though he was about to say something, then didn’t, instead, reaching out without warning, and silently plunging his thumb inside me. My body jolted at the unexpected sensation, and I caught my breath, biting my lip to stop from crying out. Despite the shock, it felt so good. I was already wet, but the sudden intrusion sent a wave of heat straight to my core.

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