Page 97 of Broken Trails
“Good?” he rasps against my cheek.
“God,yes.”
The words barely leave me before his pace shifts, fingers moving with a precision that steals my breath. They curl up, finding that perfect, aching spot deep inside me, pressing just right—over and over—until my toes curl and my thighs tighten around him.
“Lift up your shirt for me, love,” he murmurs. I do, and his breath comes heavy, a low groan slipping out at the sight of my breasts. His mouth closes over one nipple, sucking hard, and my head tips back on a gasp.
I’m trembling, and my nails dig into his shoulder as my pleasure starts to build. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the need to hide any part of this. Not the way I moan into his mouth. Not the way I shake. Not the way my body gives in so shamelessly, clinging to him like I was meant to be here all along.
Because it’shim.
And with Michael, it feels different.
“You gonna come for me, Freckles?” he growls into my ear. “All over my fucking fingers?”
I whimper at his words, my breath catching.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his mouth trailing along my jaw. “So fucking wet for me. Your cunt’s choking my fingers, baby. You gonna let go for me now?”
That does it. My orgasm slams into me hard enough to make my legs feel like jelly. I cry out, but his mouth is already on mine, swallowing every sound. His kiss is rough, all-consuming, as his tongue tangles with mine like he owns it. The aftershocks roll through me in waves, each curl of his fingers pulling another shiver from me, but he doesn’t stop kissing me.
Doesn’t stop holding me like he’s claiming every piece I tried to hide.
30
Need The Sun To Break – James Bay
Back in Wattle Creek, only one thing plagues my mind.
I’m fucked.
Utterly, completely, hopelessly fucked.
It’s Tuesday, I’m elbow-deep in the undercarriage of a busted LandCruiser, and all I can think about is her.
Zoe, who came all over my fingers and then had the audacity to fall asleep soundly, like I hadn’t just experienced a religious awakening. Zoe, who’s been ignoring my texts since we got back from Sydney, as if we didn’t just share the filthiest, hottest night of my life.
Here I am—half hard just thinking about her, gripping a socket wrench, tuning out the boys’ relentless shit-talk—when a gut-punch of a realisation slams straight into me.
I’m falling for her.
Fuck, this might actually be the first time I’ve ever been in danger of loving someone.
Jono leans across the bonnet. “So… how was Sydney?”
Jack, fresh outta TAFE and still with baby oil for blood, grins. “Yeah, you disappeared real quick, mate. Blinked and you were gone. Romantic getaway?”
Sam, the old bastard, wipes grease off his hands and looks at me over his glasses. “Folded yet?”
“Fuck off.”
Jono snorts. “That’s not a no.”
“Pretty sure I said fuck off,” I mutter, ducking back under the bonnet before one of them catches the residual hard-on their words have revived. Because the truth is, I have folded. Completely. Not in the way they mean, but in a way that matters more. She’s under my skin. In my head. And no matter how much I tell myself to back off, I’m already gone.
I’m a walking cautionary tale. One kiss and I’ve gone soft in the brain. I dream about her moaning my name and wake up hard enough to punch through drywall. But I’m not about to tell these dickheads that. Because Zoe isn’t just someone I want to fuck.
She’s more than that. Sharp-tongued, confident, impossibly grounded. She talks shit better than anyone I know. Moves through a room like it owes her something. And yeah, maybe it’s the fact she’s older, more sure of herself. Everything about her turns me inside out. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Two messages from Jax.
