Page 32 of Break Me Gently

“We should just tell my mum,” I whispered as he ushered me into my bedroom.

“It’s cleaner, telling her when you’re at uni,” he said, leaving his bag beside my door and shrugging out of his jacket.

The sweatshirt followed, and I bit my lip when he thumbed the button on his jeans. He kicked his trainers off. I watched as items of clothing and shoes littered my bedroom floor within seconds.

He filled my room until I felt as if all the air had been sucked out of it.

“Don’t you have something to say to me?” I asked, my eyes moving hungrily over his naked flesh.

He only had his boxers on, his cock stretching the fabric out, trying to escape. I bit my lip, feeling the anticipation and the dull throb between my legs.

“Yeah, strip,” he said, smirking.

I’d been waiting impatiently for him and his cock. The last three days I couldn’t focus on my studies. Every time I sat to revise, my mind wandered off to Zach land. I’d lost count of how many times I’d come on my fingers with his name on my lips.

I hooked my fingers on my red tartan pyjama bottoms and slid them down my legs until they fell to the floor. The matching red top followed, and Zach looked stunned for a moment.

“No underwear, you nasty girl,” he murmured, closing the gap between us.

I tilted my head back as I read his intentions—one hand on my hip, the other between my thighs. He kissed me, slower yet more urgent than before. I clung to him as his fingers began to move, smearing my arousal all over my pussy.

The subtle notes of his cologne made me lean into him. I wanted to bury myself in that scent. I’d forgotten how good he smelled.

When his tongue pried deeper, I opened for him and pressed my tongue against his, both of us moving in unison. He slid his fingers inside me, and I gasped.

He pulled back, trailing wet lips across my jaw as I followed him.

“Get on that bed. I want that ass in the air, ready for me,” he whispered, removing his fingers from me.

I might have sprinted to my bed.

I climbed onto my bed, and when I lowered my head onto the pillow, I adjusted my legs and raised my ass in the air for him. There was a before-Zach and an after-Zach version of me. A tiny part of me had loved him from the beginning. Now, as adults, that love had become rabid. So out of control I knew it was wrong.

But here, in the moment, with him stuffing my teddies behind my headboard and climbing onto the bed behind me, armed with a massive boner—

“Have you been studying hard?”

“Sorry, what?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

I mean, come on. There’s a time and place.

One eyebrow arched toward his hairline, a crooked smile following. A distraction—because I didn’t see it coming. His hand was a blur as it moved. I gasped at the sting, my brain catching up a beat too late.

His touch soothed the sting away.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured.

“You just slapped my ass,” I growled.

He did it again.

“I don’t like that tone.”

The sting began to bloom into something very different, and my anger dissipated.

“Increased blood flow to the surface. Vasodilation,” he murmured, palm smoothing over the heat he’d just left behind. “That’s why it burns worse before it feels good.”

He spread my thighs apart until I felt the stretch in my muscles. His fingers brushed against my pussy.