Read Online Shatter (Club Grit Trilogy) by Brooke Jaxsen - Free Book Online
Authors: Brooke Jaxsen
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to be bothered by me and my girlish emotions. Not feminine, but girlish: reminiscent of youth, of being young and lost, like a lamb walking in a meadow, alone, not a shepherd in site.
“If you have to ask, Kim, you’re not as smart as I thought,” he said, and he sat next to me on the bed. I turned to face him, and he pulled me in, close, for a kiss, for our first real kiss.
His lips were softer that I’d imagined: they weren’t soft like those of some office-dwelling cubicle jockey, but they were the kind of soft that a man’s lips get when they’ve been exfoliated by the elements, by adventure, by life, and I could have sworn I tasted the sweet salt of the ocean as our mouths opened and we finally had the chance to explore each other in a way I’d only thought about as I resisted the urge to Google him. Right now, the searching we were doing wasn’t done in an address bar, but in a nightclub. The searching was still for what all searches are for: for results. As I ran my hands over his torso, feeling his muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his white button up shirt, as he slipped off his black blazer and tossed it onto the floor, I thought about how his body was an engine, optimized, in a way, for this kind of searching, searching for some meaning in my life, for something to hold onto, with my hands and with my heart.
His touch on me wasn’t desperate, like mine, but it was a love letter, a love letter to my mind and to my soul, as he caressed my elbow sensually, feeling how the roughest part of my body was still smooth, how I’d paid attention to such a small detail in my daily routine, and had done so almost religiously. These were things I wouldn’t tell him outright, that he would guess, but as he pressed a hand into the crook of my knee, I let out a small gasp. His hands were firm and skilled, and against the soft, delicate skin of my inner leg, they felt so foreign, like they didn’t belong, even though I wanted them so desperately, not just on me, but in me.
And I did, but only as he pressed a single finger to my lips, and then, pressed on, like an explorer in some exotic land, looking for fruits that had some miraculous ability, the ability to make him happy, so as he did, the anaconda of my tongue came to life and guide him in, further, to the soft caves of my cheeks, to the treasure chests of ivory and marble, from no behemoth and from no quarry, at least known to man, but known to woman. The secrets of my vulnerability were exposed to the man that I wanted exposed in that moment more than I had before. I’d proved to myself that I could trust him with my mouth, and now, I wanted to trust him with my body.
So why did I pull away?
“Why did you pull away?”
“It’s just...I like you a lot, but...” I started, and I couldn’t finish.
“But what?”
“I don’t think you can feel the way I do, about you, ever.”
I expected Lawrence to leave, or sit there in silence. What I didn’t expect was for him to get up, turn to me, and pull me up, only to lift me up, not to kiss me, but to push me down on the middle of the bed, where he got on his knees, one betwixt my legs, one outside my thighs, and his hands firm on my wrists.
“L-Lawrence!” I stammered.
“Shush. You’ve talked enough, for now. It’s time for you to listen, and listen good, alright, Kim?” I nodded my head because apparently, I wasn’t supposed to talk back. “Good. When you say something like that? You don’t just insult yourself, you insult my abilities to discern the good from the mundane, you insult whether or not my eyes and my mind can do their job, and whether or not I’m capable of the most basic of rational thoughts.” He pressed a stray hair back, over my hair, and it bounced back up, into my field of vision. Lawrence smirked and I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. He had me pinned down, alone, and although I wanted him to fuck me, did I want it like this?
“Kim, you are the most
“If you have to ask, Kim, you’re not as smart as I thought,” he said, and he sat next to me on the bed. I turned to face him, and he pulled me in, close, for a kiss, for our first real kiss.
His lips were softer that I’d imagined: they weren’t soft like those of some office-dwelling cubicle jockey, but they were the kind of soft that a man’s lips get when they’ve been exfoliated by the elements, by adventure, by life, and I could have sworn I tasted the sweet salt of the ocean as our mouths opened and we finally had the chance to explore each other in a way I’d only thought about as I resisted the urge to Google him. Right now, the searching we were doing wasn’t done in an address bar, but in a nightclub. The searching was still for what all searches are for: for results. As I ran my hands over his torso, feeling his muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his white button up shirt, as he slipped off his black blazer and tossed it onto the floor, I thought about how his body was an engine, optimized, in a way, for this kind of searching, searching for some meaning in my life, for something to hold onto, with my hands and with my heart.
His touch on me wasn’t desperate, like mine, but it was a love letter, a love letter to my mind and to my soul, as he caressed my elbow sensually, feeling how the roughest part of my body was still smooth, how I’d paid attention to such a small detail in my daily routine, and had done so almost religiously. These were things I wouldn’t tell him outright, that he would guess, but as he pressed a hand into the crook of my knee, I let out a small gasp. His hands were firm and skilled, and against the soft, delicate skin of my inner leg, they felt so foreign, like they didn’t belong, even though I wanted them so desperately, not just on me, but in me.
And I did, but only as he pressed a single finger to my lips, and then, pressed on, like an explorer in some exotic land, looking for fruits that had some miraculous ability, the ability to make him happy, so as he did, the anaconda of my tongue came to life and guide him in, further, to the soft caves of my cheeks, to the treasure chests of ivory and marble, from no behemoth and from no quarry, at least known to man, but known to woman. The secrets of my vulnerability were exposed to the man that I wanted exposed in that moment more than I had before. I’d proved to myself that I could trust him with my mouth, and now, I wanted to trust him with my body.
So why did I pull away?
“Why did you pull away?”
“It’s just...I like you a lot, but...” I started, and I couldn’t finish.
“But what?”
“I don’t think you can feel the way I do, about you, ever.”
I expected Lawrence to leave, or sit there in silence. What I didn’t expect was for him to get up, turn to me, and pull me up, only to lift me up, not to kiss me, but to push me down on the middle of the bed, where he got on his knees, one betwixt my legs, one outside my thighs, and his hands firm on my wrists.
“L-Lawrence!” I stammered.
“Shush. You’ve talked enough, for now. It’s time for you to listen, and listen good, alright, Kim?” I nodded my head because apparently, I wasn’t supposed to talk back. “Good. When you say something like that? You don’t just insult yourself, you insult my abilities to discern the good from the mundane, you insult whether or not my eyes and my mind can do their job, and whether or not I’m capable of the most basic of rational thoughts.” He pressed a stray hair back, over my hair, and it bounced back up, into my field of vision. Lawrence smirked and I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. He had me pinned down, alone, and although I wanted him to fuck me, did I want it like this?
“Kim, you are the most
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