Page 3 of Break my Heart
Hard.
A deep chuckle escapes from him as he breaks the silence. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”
Unsure how to respond, I remain frozen in place, my feet rooted to the floor.
Much to my mortification, my brain remains on hiatus, unable to compute anything beyond the scene playing out in front of me. I should tear my gaze away, but it’s like a train wreck I can’t stop staring at.
As if this situation isn’t mortifying enough, he wraps his hand around the thick length and slowly strokes it. My mouth falls open as he stiffens up until his cock is pointing straight at me.
“Well,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement, “what are you waiting for?”
I blink and attempt to rouse myself from the daze that’s fallen over me. It takes a handful of seconds to wrap my lips around a response. “Waiting for?”
I bite back a groan of embarrassment. Under normal circumstances, I pride myself on being quick-witted, always ready with a sharp retort. But right now?
My brain has short-circuited.
There’s nothing.
With his fingers still wrapped around his erection, his lips lift into a smirk. “Why don’t you strip off your clothes so we can get to it.”
My heart nearly stops. There’s a beat of silence so loud it feels like it’s echoing in the room.
Excuse me?
I force myself to say something.
Anything.
But I’m stuck, frozen in disbelief, as my mind scrambles to process what the hell is happening right now.
With a tilt of his head, he gives me another slow perusal. “My guess is that you’ll look good on your knees with a mouth stuffed full of cock.”
The silky words are like a bucket of icy water dumped over my head. They manage to do the impossible and wake me from my stupor.
My narrowed gaze slices to his sparkling eyes.
Even though I only started at Western in the fall, I know exactly who this player is.
Introductions aren’t necessary.
Hayes Van Doren’s reputation precedes him.
It’s so tempting to blast this guy into next week. Instead, I force the corners of my lips into some semblance of a smile as I prod my feet into movement. As I step closer, it becomes necessary to tip my chin upward in order to hold his steady gaze.
He’s tall.
Well over six feet.
I’m lucky if I top out at five foot three.
When there’s no more than a handful of inches to separate us, and the heat of his body is enough to singe me alive, I reach out and knock his hand away before wrapping my fingers around his hard length and giving him a long, slow stroke.
Fire leaps to life in his green eyes, making them sparkle like emeralds.
When a shiver dances down my spine, I stomp it out and drop my voice until it turns husky. “Is this more like what you had in mind?”
It doesn’t take long for his eyelids to droop and a deep groan to escape from him. “Yeah, baby. That feels so damn good.”