Page 109 of Broken Honor

She doesn’t speak.

My lips press to hers, soft at first—just a question. A warning. Then deeper. Her mouth parts beneath mine, and I taste her breath, her fear, her warmth. I pull her in by the waist and cup her jaw with one hand, angling her face to mine. She leans into it—hesitant, but willing—and I kiss her again.

Her mouth parts against mine and her breath grows heavier—just like mine. I edge her toward the wall, guiding her by the waist, feeling the softness of her full curves press into my body, grounding me in a way I didn’t expect. Her back touches the wall.

I tug gently at her torn cardigan, my fingertips brushing her arms—bare, warm, plush. My mouth finds the skin there, kissing the curve of her arm slowly, reverently, before I ease one strap of her dress from her shoulder. The fabric slips down and reveals more of her. Her skin is smooth under my lips, tasting faintly of soap and something faintly sweet.

My teeth graze her neck and she arches slightly, a soft sound escaping her lips that goes straight to my chest.

“Tell me to stop,” I murmur against her skin. My voice is caught between a plea and a threat. I’m giving her the out I never give anyone. I wait—but her fingers tangle in my hair, pressing me closer. Her body moves with mine, full and yielding, and she throws her head back with a gasp.

I trail my mouth down and her collarbone rises and falls beneath my lips. I take my time, tracing the edges of her body like I’m memorizing every dip, every softness. The second strap slips down, revealing more of her chest. My palms smooth up her waist, splaying over the generous curve of her ribs. I glance up once—her eyes flutter shut, lips parted, cheeks flushed despite the fading bruises. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I lower my head again and brush my mouth over the swell of her chest, reverent, careful. Her body trembles under me, her hands gripping the front of my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

Moans spill from her lips as my tongue grazes one nipple, firm and full beneath my mouth, while my hand caresses the other with reverence. Her body arches into me, bold and unashamed. I ease the straps of her dress down her shoulders, dragging the fabric slowly over the curve of her hips until it pools at her feet. She stands before me, naked.

I press into her, my body hard and burning with need, molding against the softness of her frame. Our mouths meet again—wet, urgent, and tasting of something sweeter than sin. My hands trail down her thighs, parting them slightly to feel the heat waiting for me there. She gasps as I nip her skin, a mark left behind, possessive and primal. Her arms tighten around my neck, pulling me deeper into her orbit.

Breathless, I draw back, chest heaving. My eyes drink her in—flushed cheeks, trembling lashes, sweat curling the strands at her temple. “Have you ever done this before?” I ask, my voice low.

She shakes her head, unable to speak. I kiss her gently, letting our lips say what words cannot. Then I reach into the drawer beside us and pull out a small bottle. Her gaze flicks to it with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

She hesitates, then nods. I take her hand, guiding her to the bed with care. She lies on her back and I hover above her, pressing soft kisses along her neck, across the tender lines of her body. Stretch marks, dips, curves—every inch of her is art, and I worship it all. Her fingers clutch the sheets, her legs trembling slightly beneath my touch.

I lower my pants, and my cock springs free—thick, heavy, and already slick with anticipation. I grab the bottle, pour a generous amount of lube into my hand, and coat myself with slow, firm strokes. The contrast of the cold gel on my flushed skin makes me hiss through my teeth. I stroke my shaft once more, watching it gleam under the low light, then toss the bottle aside and crawl between her legs.

One hand braces beside her head, the other glides down to her hip, fingers splaying across the smooth flesh. My cock drags across the inside of her thigh.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” I whisper, voice hoarse with restraint.

Her legs spread slightly, thighs parting like a promise, her slick folds glistening with arousal. She’s fucking soaked.

I line myself up, the head of my cock brushing against the swollen lips of her pussy. Her breath hitches, chest freezing mid-rise. I pause, press a soft kiss to her neck, letting her feel my weight, my presence.

“This okay?”

She nods, whispering, “Yes.”

Her skin is burning under my touch—neck to chest to the trembling softness of her thighs. Sweat clings to her, and her scent hits me—musk and sex and her. I guide myself lower, my tip nudging into her entrance. Even with the lube, she’s tight. Fucking tight. Her pussy clamps around the tip like she doesn’t want to let me in.

Her hips jerk, just a little, and I kiss her shoulder again.

Her hands fist the sheets.

I push in slowly, stretching her open, feeling her tight heat inch by inch. Her pussy grips me hard, a wet suction pulling me deeper. Her face twists, brows pulling together, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat. She jerks beneath me and I freeze.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” I whisper, cock throbbing, buried halfway in her heat and barely holding back.

She nods again, tearful but determined. Her nails dig into the mattress, and I feel her muscles trying to relax around me. I thrust in deeper—slow, deliberate. Her breath catches again, sharper this time. Her pussy tightens down on me like a fucking vise. My jaw locks, cock twitching, her body too tight, too hot, too damn perfect.

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to slam into her.

One more slow thrust, and I’m fully inside. Buried to the hilt.

Wet heat wraps around me. Her pussy milks my cock, trembling, sucking me in.

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