Read Online Beautiful Broken by Nazarea Andrews - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nazarea Andrews
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moan, a breathy noise that I can't believe I'm making, as he covers me. My legs fall open, cradling him as he grinds against me.
"Jesus, Scout," he mutters, lifting up to peer at me with sleepy, gray eyes.
I don't want him to stop, and I know he's going to—I can see it. I hook a leg over his hip and thrust against him. "Don't go," I murmur.
He makes a face—somewhere between a smile and a grimace—and then his lips are on mine.
Dane kisses like a starving man at a feast. His hands come up to cradle my face, and he sips at my mouth, tiny little kisses that have me writhing against him, desperate for more. He nips at my lower lip then sucks on it softly, soothing the tiny pain. Licks into my mouth, across my tongue, the roof of my mouth—he's everywhere, like he's trying to memorize the feel of me, to devour me.
I've never been kissed like this, and I want him kissing me like this when he goes down on me.
The thought makes me wet, and I shift again.
"Stop," he whispers against my lips, and I thrust against him. "God, Scout, stop."
"Why?"
"Because I can feel how wet you are and if you do that again, I'm gonna forget I'm supposed to be a gentleman and I'm gonna fuck you senseless. And neither of us needs that complication right now."
The words are shocking and bracing. Tears burn in my eyes—whatever else his words are, they're also a rejection. He stares at me for a minute, and then his hand slips under my panties, and his lips are against my ear, whispering, "Don't cry, Scout. If you need this—oh, god, you’re so damn ready for me, Scout." His fingers slip through my folds, and I whimper as his thumbs graze my clit. He doesn't take my shorts or panties off, but his fingers plunge into me, and he kisses me, pumping his fingers in and out while I ride his hand, and his sexy voice is in my ear, dirty and coarse and all I can hear when I climax, the orgasm stronger than any I've had in months, shaking my entire body. He holds me, milks me through it, his fingers deep inside me. I moan sleepily when he pulls them free. Sleep is tugging me back down—the early hour and the orgasm working together to knock me out. But I open my eyes and watch him as he licks his fingers clean, his eyes locked on mine.
Dane
She’s gorgeous, hair sticking to her sweaty neck, her face still flushed from her orgasm. Her eyes are closed, and I don’t even try to resist the impulse to lick my fingers.
Except she opens her eyes, sleepily watching. I should feel guilty, but I don’t. This is special—somehow it feels separate from the rest of life, like all the shit that keeps us apart was left outside my bedroom.
It’s not true, of course—and this can only happen once—but it’s a fantasy I’ll cling to for now.
I lick her off my fingers and close my eyes, groaning at her taste—that unique scent of orange mixing with the salty musk. She’s sweet and amazing, and I know I’ll never get enough.
I let myself kiss her, a soft, chaste kiss on her forehead—the kind of kiss I’ve been giving her for years, that is different now. And then I sit up and pull the blanket over her. She curls into my pillow, and I hear her take a deep breath. A smile twists her lips up, and then she’s gone, collapsing into sleep.
I step into my bathroom and strip—I don’t want to shower, don’t want to wash her scent off my skin. Leaving her sleeping in my bed is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
I leave the house quietly after making sure her phone is next to her and the doors are locked. I don’t like it, but work is calling and I can’t stay with her—she isn’t mine.
Scout
I find a glass of orange juice, already poured in the fridge, with a note in Dane’s barely legible scrawl.
Sacred Heart. Basement—@6. Dinner after?
I felt a twinge of unease, not sure how I’ll face him. I’m still warm and lazy from my orgasm, but what happens tonight? How do I treat him when all our clothes are on and
"Jesus, Scout," he mutters, lifting up to peer at me with sleepy, gray eyes.
I don't want him to stop, and I know he's going to—I can see it. I hook a leg over his hip and thrust against him. "Don't go," I murmur.
He makes a face—somewhere between a smile and a grimace—and then his lips are on mine.
Dane kisses like a starving man at a feast. His hands come up to cradle my face, and he sips at my mouth, tiny little kisses that have me writhing against him, desperate for more. He nips at my lower lip then sucks on it softly, soothing the tiny pain. Licks into my mouth, across my tongue, the roof of my mouth—he's everywhere, like he's trying to memorize the feel of me, to devour me.
I've never been kissed like this, and I want him kissing me like this when he goes down on me.
The thought makes me wet, and I shift again.
"Stop," he whispers against my lips, and I thrust against him. "God, Scout, stop."
"Why?"
"Because I can feel how wet you are and if you do that again, I'm gonna forget I'm supposed to be a gentleman and I'm gonna fuck you senseless. And neither of us needs that complication right now."
The words are shocking and bracing. Tears burn in my eyes—whatever else his words are, they're also a rejection. He stares at me for a minute, and then his hand slips under my panties, and his lips are against my ear, whispering, "Don't cry, Scout. If you need this—oh, god, you’re so damn ready for me, Scout." His fingers slip through my folds, and I whimper as his thumbs graze my clit. He doesn't take my shorts or panties off, but his fingers plunge into me, and he kisses me, pumping his fingers in and out while I ride his hand, and his sexy voice is in my ear, dirty and coarse and all I can hear when I climax, the orgasm stronger than any I've had in months, shaking my entire body. He holds me, milks me through it, his fingers deep inside me. I moan sleepily when he pulls them free. Sleep is tugging me back down—the early hour and the orgasm working together to knock me out. But I open my eyes and watch him as he licks his fingers clean, his eyes locked on mine.
Dane
She’s gorgeous, hair sticking to her sweaty neck, her face still flushed from her orgasm. Her eyes are closed, and I don’t even try to resist the impulse to lick my fingers.
Except she opens her eyes, sleepily watching. I should feel guilty, but I don’t. This is special—somehow it feels separate from the rest of life, like all the shit that keeps us apart was left outside my bedroom.
It’s not true, of course—and this can only happen once—but it’s a fantasy I’ll cling to for now.
I lick her off my fingers and close my eyes, groaning at her taste—that unique scent of orange mixing with the salty musk. She’s sweet and amazing, and I know I’ll never get enough.
I let myself kiss her, a soft, chaste kiss on her forehead—the kind of kiss I’ve been giving her for years, that is different now. And then I sit up and pull the blanket over her. She curls into my pillow, and I hear her take a deep breath. A smile twists her lips up, and then she’s gone, collapsing into sleep.
I step into my bathroom and strip—I don’t want to shower, don’t want to wash her scent off my skin. Leaving her sleeping in my bed is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
I leave the house quietly after making sure her phone is next to her and the doors are locked. I don’t like it, but work is calling and I can’t stay with her—she isn’t mine.
Scout
I find a glass of orange juice, already poured in the fridge, with a note in Dane’s barely legible scrawl.
Sacred Heart. Basement—@6. Dinner after?
I felt a twinge of unease, not sure how I’ll face him. I’m still warm and lazy from my orgasm, but what happens tonight? How do I treat him when all our clothes are on and
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