Page 51 of Broken

“Ohhh God,” the moan goes on and on and I do it, I come again like he tells me. On command.

Garrett grunts then pulls out of me. He drags me off the counter and turns me around, bending me over. I grab onto the cold marble surface as Garrett grunts harder, then cries out with a low groan. Warmth spreads over my bare back and I glance over my shoulder.

His chest is heaving up and down, sweat soaks his pecs and throat and he’s holding his cock in his palm. Some cum has spilled over his fingers, but most of it is down my back, running over the cheeks of my ass.

It’s the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done. And I loved it. My head rolls and I press my forehead against the counter. The coldness soothes my heated skin. I can’t move. The sound of running water barely registers, until a cool cloth is gliding over my back.

Can I stay here? Like this. My legs will not work. The ache deep inside of me is going to stay with me for a while.

Garrett puts one hand on my hip, the other on the back of my neck. He guides me upright and I fall back against his chest, closing my eyes. The only sound is our breathing and the rain outside. It’s fainter now than before. Slowing down. When it stops, he’ll leave.

That thought leaves me cold. I’m not the kind of woman who has one-night stands. Is this going to be anything more than sex to Garrett?

Sin has been telling me since I got here that I needed to get with a guy. For pleasure, for myself, not to be tied into another relationship. I didn’t think I’d be able to do it. Being in a relationship with Garrett isn’t on the cards.

And it’s okay. Because this sex… This is going to live with me for a very long time.

It’s cold when Garrett moves away. I don’t turn until I’ve heard the swish of fabric. He’s pulled the ridiculous sweatpants back on again, not even the pink flower conceals the genuine sex appeal of the man. His body is a work of art, literally.

My eyes roam over his tattoos as he grabs the T-shirt he was wearing. He doesn’t put it on, he slips it over my head and helps put my arms through the holes, then lowers it down over my hips.

Moving a few steps back, I get lost in the storm of his eyes, the intensity of the expression on his handsome face. Okay, now comes the awkward part, I guess.

The beep of the drier jolts me.

“I’ll get it,” Garrett says. He glances at the counter behind me. “You should drink some water.”

My eyes follow him as he disappears around the corner. I rub at my butt which is beginning to ache from slamming down on the counter. There is a deep pulling sensation between my legs that isn’t totally unpleasant, but I’ll feel for a few hours.

I’m going to need a bath, with lots of Epsom salt. I shake myself out of those thoughts. He hasn’t even left yet.

Turning to the bottled water I left out, I pour myself a glass and down half of it. Garrett comes back into the room wearing his freshly dried T-shirt and jeans. I wonder if he is wearing his underwear.

God get your mind out of the gutter. Can it be in the gutter, after what we did?

He walks over and takes the glass from my hand, draining it then setting it down beside me. He is so intense, even after that release. What do I do now? Thank him for the most orgasms I’ve ever had in one go. Or for letting me experience the pleasure from these piercings everyone told me about?

“You overthink things,” he says, reaching out and touching my lower lip with his thumb. “Let your mind go quiet.”

What does that mean?

“Draw,” he adds, then turns and grabs his boots. “It’ll help.”

They’re still soaked and are going to be uncomfortable but there is nothing I can do to help him with that. He wants me to draw? It has always calmed me, that’s true.

Do I need calming? Yes, because my mind is running rampant with thoughts on what happens now.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” I admit. “This isn’t usual conversation after I do… that,” I indicate the counter. “With someone.”

“If you can’t say it, then we’re going to have a problem, Vixen,” he leans in close. “You mean, after wefucked.”

I blow out a shaky breath. He’s got me in a chokehold and his hands are nowhere near me.

“I have to go, Phoenix texted about something at the shop.”

I nod, watching him getting his boots on.

He grimaces at the wet leather but laces them up anyway. He walks toward the front door but pauses by the drawings I’ve framed and put on the wall. One is a design I created as part of my final exams in college. The other is my last professional design. I lost that contract.

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