Page 112 of Broken Lines

“Oh, do you…”

I whimper as he turns me towards the control board and bends me over it.

“Read away, sweetheart.”

I shiver, reaching for a new page and letting my eyes drift over it. Which, admittedly, becomes a lot harder when I feel him drop to his knees behind me and pull my panties down to my knees. But I keep reading his words…even when I feel his strong hands spread me lewdly open from behind and feel his breath on my thighs.

His tongue drags over my pussy, and I moan, almost bunching the page in my hand into my fist. But, even as the waves of bliss wash over me, I force myself to read the words in front of me.

I want both—his physical lust for me, and the mad genius scribbled on the page in my hand.

And so, I take both.

I cry out as he tongues my clit, or when his palm spanks my ass. But I keep reading the lyrics—page after page of them, until I’m floating in this heady mix of his tongue and his creativity.

But, even as my toes curl, and as I drift closer and closer to exploding on his tongue, I stare at the words I’m reading.

They’re…good. I mean they’re really,reallyfucking good.

“I know you’re trying to hold out on me, sweetheart,” he growls into my thigh. I yelp when he spanks my ass and then slides a finger deep into me, stroking it against my g-spot.

“You can try all you want, but Iwillhave you coming for me. Iwilltaste this sweet little cunt when you explode all over my fucking tongue like a good girl.”

His mouth attacks my clit again, devouring me as he strokes his finger against the spot just inside. My eyes roll back as I slump across the control panel with my legs shaking. The pressure builds, and when he sucks my clit between his lips and sucks hard, I can’t hold out anymore.

With a jolt and a cry of pure bliss from my lips, I’m coming hard against his mouth. But even as I slide off the edge into the abyss, my eyes are locked on his words.

24

Jackson

Melody’s messageto Albert about “calling people herself” by the next day doesn’t come to pass. By nightfall, the snow starts to pick up again, whitewashing the bay and turning the whole island and town beyond it into a hazy fog of ice and snow. The next morning, it’s the same thing, and it goes all day into the second night as well.

And into the third morning.

Yeah, I’m not boating anywhere in that shit.

Not, for that matter, that I haveanymotivation to facilitate her leaving this island. Or anywhere that isn’t close enough that I can drag her into my arms and devour her whenever I please.

Which is exactly what I’ve been doing for the last three days.

And when I do, sometimes, I worry that I’m pushing her too far. It’s become fairly clear to me that Melody is…not exactly experienced. And I don’t mean that in as a negative or a critique in the slightest fucking bit.

The way that girl turns me on and makes me fucking explode is…transcendent. It’s genuinely mind-blowing and hits me in a way that puts just about any other rush I’ve ever chased to shame—be it drugs, sex, success, fame, whatever.

But, still, it’s clear what happened to her put the brakes on…exploring herself. Sexually, that is. And I’ve worried that my own tastes and appetites are beyond what she’s ready for.

I play rough. I play hard. But I amnotgoing to hurt her.

And yet, when I do try and tap the brakes, or hold back, it’s like she can tell. And she goads me into letting off those brakes. She antagonizes me, like she knows needling me will make me lose control and be rougher, and more dominant with her.

I’m beginning to think little miss Pink Hair haswaymore of a submissive streak than she even knew about.

I frown, shaking my head at myself as I finish chopping vegetables for dinner. Ten years away from the world, and I get hooked like a fucking junkie on the first girl who steps foot on my island. But, again, it’s not thirst. It’s not like she’s a “warm body” or any bullshit like that.

It’s that she’sher.

Sharp, thorny, difficult. Defiant and challenging as fuck. And yet, she’s also delicate. And soft. And breakable. And it might be the mix of all of that—however polar opposites some of those qualities may be—that draw me in and won’t let go.