Page 23 of The Break Down

She’s movement.

She’s glitter and rebellion wrapped in the softest damn skin I’ve ever touched.

Would she even want something like this?

Someone like me?

Because if I give in—if I stop holding back and finally take what I want?

I won’t be able to let go.

Still, I can’t help but wonder.

Would she let me ruin her? Would she let me possess her?

Fuck. Maybe it’s safer not to find out.

I tell myself that.

Repeat it like a mantra as I try to calm the ache in my chest.In my cock. In my need for her.

Blue balls are better than no balls, right?

Of course, not ten fucking minutes go by when I see her.

Walking alone through the lot we’ve turned into our makeshift campground for the night.

Barely there clothes clinging to every goddamn curve, soft cotton that hugs her tits, those thighs, that ass.

Fuck.

I lose it.

That tight grip on the leash I call control, well, it slips.

Doesn’t she know it’s not safe out here?

This isn’t a secure compound.

There’s no night guard.

No locked gates.

Just a patch of dirt, a few parked rigs, and a half-lit shed on the far side.

And she’s out here.

Alone.

My jaw tightens. My fists clench.

She’s a proud woman, but doesn’t she care about safety?

Shit. She’s not just a woman.

She’smywoman.

Even if she doesn’t know it.

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