Page 119 of Broken Pieces
“Yeah. I fucking do.”
The words hang in the air.
Thicker than the silence that follows.
I don’t know what to say. My cheeks flush, burning hot, and I glance down at my notebook, suddenly aware that my hands are shaking. I grip the pen tighter, but it doesn’t help.
I hear him move—slow footsteps across the room.
I don’t look up.
Not until his hands grip the edge of the mattress.
My gaze lifts, and he’s standing right in front of me. His expression isn’t playful now. It’s serious. Hungry. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“I haven’t touched you,” he says, voice low, “because I didn’t know if I could fucking stop.”
My mouth goes dry.
His hand lifts, knuckles grazing my cheek.
“I’ve been trying to be good, Sky. Trying to give you space. But fuck… since I tasted you on the roof that night it’s been fucking with my head. Every time I close my eyes, I see you. Spread out for me. Moaning my name. Fucking shaking on my mouth.”
I can’t breathe.
I can’t move.
“I fucking want you,” he says, fingers dragging down my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my lips. “I want to fuck you slow. Deep. Until you’re begging me not to stop. I want to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock while you lose your mind under me.”
Zane’s filthy mouth does something to me. Every word drips heat, dragging across my skin like a physical touch.
I can’t hide it.
My body betrays me before my head can catch up. It hits my chest, coils in my stomach, burns in the slick ache between my legs.
I want him.
God, I fucking want him.
My lips part, but my voice is gone. So I nod.
His eyes lock on mine, searching my face—the muscles in his jaw flex.
“You sure?” he asks, voice rough as gravel, the words curling through me, dragging every ounce of sanity I’ve got left to the edge.
“Yes,” I whisper.
And then he’s on me.
His mouth crashes into mine, all tongue and heat, no hesitation.
It’s not sweet. It’s filthy. Desperate. Full of fuck-you heat that’s been building for weeks. His hands grip my waist hard, dragging me closer as if he needs me under him.
I claw at his shoulders, fingers digging into hot skin, trying to get closer.
He growls into my mouth, that deep, feral sound that makes my cunt throb.
My notebook and homework scatter to the floor with a sweep of his arm. Papers flutter, but he doesn’t care. He lays me flat on the mattress and follows me down, his weight pressing into me, his sweat-slick chest against mine.
