Page 150 of Broken Trails
“Michael—” Her voice splinters, somewhere between protest and need.
“Say it. Tell me who’s fucking you.” I don’t give her time to respond. My hips snap, pounding into her, the shelves rattling with each thrust.
Her head tips back, mouth open, eyes clenched shut. “You. Michael—fuck.”
“That’s it.” My teeth graze her ear as I slam harder, rougher, taking every ounce of her. “Mine. Every fucking inch of you.” I drive harder, chasing the sound of her cries. The rhythm is messy, frantic, skin meeting skin in sharp, desperate slaps that echo off the storage room walls.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps.
“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it.”
She bows under me, body shuddering as her climax rips through her, clutching around me so hard it nearly undoes me. I drive through it, chasing my own release, until it claws its way out of me with a guttural groan. I bury myself deep, filling her, every muscle burning, until the world finally comes apart. Her hair’s wild, her back now damp with sweat, her lips swollen from my earlier kisses. I can’t stop the smug grin twisting my mouth.
We sag against the shelves, both of us wrecked. My release is still pulsing inside her, and the realisation slams into me like a brick to the chest. No wonder it felt so heightened, so raw—so fucking good. I fucked her bare. No barrier. No protection. Just me inside her, the way I’ve thought about since the second I first imagined fucking her.
And fuck if it doesn’t twist something darker, more possessive in my chest. My cum in her. My mark, filling her, making me want to stay buried forever. “Fuck,” I mutter, pulling back just enough to see her face. “No condom.”
For a second, panic spikes. I’ve never been this careless before. Zoe, though? She’s eerily calm. Her chest is still heaving, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. She twists just enough to glance at me, and her voice is quiet as she says, “You look more terrified than I feel.”
I huff a laugh that doesn’t sound like one. “Shouldn’t you be?” My pulse is hammering.Why isn’t she panicking? Why am I the only one worried?I shouldn’t be. Not with her. Not when she’s the woman I already want to spend the rest of my damn life with.
If she fell pregnant right now… hell. I’ve never given much thought to being a father—not with the shit upbringing I had—but if Harrison can break the cycle, then maybe I can too. Maybe I deserve that chance. And maybe I want it more than I’m willing to admit.
She reaches for the box of tissues on the shelf, but before she can use it, I snatch the box from her hand, toss it aside, and slide my fingers back inside her instead, pushing my cum deeper. Her moan is one of shock and helplessness—torn from her throat before she can bite it back. “Michael,” she gasps, nails digging into my arm.
My breath is harsh against her ear. “Much better. Where it belongs,” I rasp.
Her laugh breaks out, laced with a whimper. “That was way more attractive than it needed to be.”
“Good,” I breathe against her ear, curling my fingers just to hear her gasp again. “Because you’re not wiping me away that fast.”
She swats at me after a moment, muttering under her breath about how insufferable I am. I finally let her clean herself up. She smooths the emerald dress back into place, eyes still hazy, lips curved like she’s trying not to smile.
“So… storage closet quickies now?” she teases.
I tuck myself back in with a smirk. “Best wedding tradition we’ve ever kicked off.”
Her laugh follows me as I catch her hand, threading my fingers through hers. Together, we slip back toward the reception, both of us trying, and failing, to look a hell of a lot less guilty than we are.
Bonus Epilogue
What Took You So Long – Dan + Shay
The ride should’ve ended hours ago, but Michael doesn’t take us straight home. Because nothing with Michael is ever simple. Instead, he pulls over halfway down a quiet stretch of dirt road, killing the engine, before spinning in his seat to have me straddle his lap.
Suddenly, we’re not riding home at all. We’re ridingeach other.
“Michael—”
My protest comes out thin as I straddle him on the seat, his leather jacket shoved off his shoulders, jeans pulled low enough in an instant to free the part of him that has no business beingthis big. He’s already hard, thick and heavy against my thigh, and his hands are locked tight on my ass, dragging me closer.
“Don’t,” he warns, voice low and edged with hunger. “You’ve been teasing me for an hour straight. Thought I’d let that slide? Nah. You’re getting fucked on this bike, Zoe.”
Heat slams through me. My hands brace against his chest, steadying myself on the hard beat of his heart. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” His lip curves, dangerous and sure, as he fists the hem of my dress, shoving it up around my waist. My breath catches when he hooks a finger under my underwear and pulls it aside, baring me to the open air. I knew wearing this dress wasn’t practical—but hell, it was a damn good idea. He drags his knuckles through my pussy, and his eyes flick up to mine.
“Jesus. You’re soaked, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
