Page 47 of This Broken Heart

Her hand slips down my chest, over my stomach. When her fingers trail past my hips, curving around my bulge, my hips twitch. A muffled grunt escapes my lips and I bury my face into the crook of her neck. She gives me a little squeeze and my entire torso tenses. “Ah. Fuck me.”

She curls her fingers around my waistband. “Yes, please.”

I look down at her and she’s got a hint of a smile on her lips.

Naughty thing.

I don’t have to be told twice.

But not here. Both of the kids have a history of making early morning appearances.

Climbing to my feet, I drag her upright. Before she can find her feet, I sweep her up into my arms. She yelps indignantly, clearly not a fan of being picked up.

But I’m a fan of picking her up, so she’s going to have to get used to it.

I carry her to the guest bedroom, closing the door behind us, locking it.

I set her down on her feet and she stares up at me, looking a little impatient. Her hair is mussed from having my fingers in it. Her clothes are disheveled. And it’s a good look on her.

Prowling forward, I slip both hands along her jaw, bringing her in for a kiss. She braces her hands on my chest, parting her lips for me. I pull her sweater up and we break apart long enough for me to tug it over her head. I want to stop and admire the way she looks in the early morning light. But I also want to kiss her so deep she doesn’t have room for anything but me. I settle for kissing her while my hands explore her bare skin.

“So soft.” I murmur, trailing kisses down the curve of her neck. My hand lays flat against the small of her back and I pull her in. She grinds her hips against mine, hands slipping under my sweater. Bunching it up, her fingernails chart a course up my chest. I tug the sweater over my head and she scrapes her hands against my torso before gliding south.

Her fingers find the button of my jeans and as she works on pulling off my pants, I feel like I’m coming undone. She shoves my jeans down and my cock springs out, slapping against her tummy.

Her lips part prettily and she looks up at me, wide-eyed.

It’s rather… gratifying. I grab hold of her hips and pull her into me, feeling her soft skin against my shaft. Slanting my lips over hers, I thrust my tongue between her lips.

31.

Erin

I’m starting to wonder if this guy saved a country in a previous life.

It hardly seems fair for one man to be so heartbreakingly handsome and be equipped likethat.

I suspected he was well-endowed. I’ve been curious since he walked into the kitchen with a morning wood weeks ago.

But even my colorful imagination did not prepare me for the sheer size of that thing.

I’m not sure what a person does with something like that. It doesn’t seem like it would fit… anywhere.

But he’s mashing it up against my stomach and my body is very much interested in giving it a try. My body is ready. I’m soaking wet, but my brain isn’t quite ready to go all the way.

I haven’t been with another guy since Matt, and I was with him for years. My experience is extremely limited. To say I’m nervous is a vast understatement.

But I want more than just kisses. And judging by the way he’s straining against me, he wants more, too.

I decide to split the difference by dropping to my knees.

He sucks in a surprised breath, revealing that maybe he wasn’t sure what the next step was supposed to be, either.

Misery loves company and so does insecurity. Knowing he might be nervous too gives me a little surge of confidence. I take him in my hands, marveling at the fact that my finger and thumb don’t meet. Squeezing him around the base, I drag my fist up his length, enjoying the contrast between velvety skin and hard flesh. He shivers from my touch.

Shivers.

Because of little old me.