Page 57 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

“They ran tests here, always condoms, and I…” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I need.”

I rested my forehead against August’s. There wasn’t anger there, no need for being out of control, and I tugged him to the bed.

Maybe August just needed to forget.

I let him go only so we could strip down to bare skin, and as soon as I could, I had him in my arms, easing him back until his knees hit the mattress, and then, it was game over as we tumbled backward. I want so much of him, greedy, caging him with my arms, not resting against his belly, deepening the kisses until we were both fighting for breath, leaving a lingering sweetness on my lips, a taste that made every kiss feel like a delicious indulgence. I focused on his neck, whispering random nonsense against his skin, falling to one side, and bringing him with me so he could decide how much pressure he wanted where it hurt. He arched his neck when I tugged at a nipple, his breathing shallow as he groaned, and I twisted the nub until he was humping the air, dropping himself so our cocks slid together.

Both of us gasped as I arched up into him and worried at the other nipple. “Fucking hot,” I muttered, cradling the back of his head, and tugging him down for another kiss, my other hand tracing patterns on his nipples and down his chest with its light dusting of hair. God, I needed more, and I scratched at his skin, taking his mouth, then biting his lower lip, soothing it with my tongue as he took my hands and pinned them above my head.

“You bit me,” he said, making it sound like a threat. He buried his face into my shoulder and sucked a mark there, his teeth worrying at the skin as we rutted.

“You taste good,” I defended. “Sex and fucking and jeeeezzz…” I whined the last when he held my hands in one of his and pulled and twisted my nipple the same as I’d done to him. They were hardwired to my cock, and I wanted his mouth there, sucking me down, or his hand—oh my god; I needed another kiss.

I was lost.

He shuffled back, one foot on the floor, releasing my hands. “Don’t move,” he ordered.

His growl made me even harder. I thought I was making him forget, but I couldn’t even recall my name. Then, he hunched over me, one hand for balance, determination in his eyes, and he ran his free hand from my nipple to my belly button, out to my hips, tracing the scar I’d gotten from a blade, and the one from a bullet fragment that had ricocheted off the wall I’d been behind. He leaned down and kissed each one, as if they mattered to him, and my cock bumped his face when he moved closer. I whined low in my throat, and he chuckled—he fucking snickered—then cupped my balls, smoothing his thumb over them.

“I want to taste everything,” he promised me.

I arched up again, the glide of my cock against his skin was overwhelming, and I pushed down the growing want to come on his face.

God, that would be good.

He lifted my cock, nuzzled my balls, then his clever mouth was on every part of me, fingers tapping my hole as he sucked and nibbled and sent me wild. His finger dipped inside, but then, he rolled off, and for a moment, I thought I’d broken him.

“Stuff,” he managed, his hand on his cock, slipping it from base to tip as I scrambled to the drawers next to my bed and yanked open the top one, pulling out lube and condoms. I don’t know how many I grabbed, but they were a rainbow of color on the pale bed covers.

“You’re vers,” he panted as he worked his cock, a thing of beauty—cut, flared, mine. “I want you in me, but I can’t. I don’t think I can…”

His operation, his pain. “Easily fixed,” I murmured, then handed him the lube and crouched over him, offering him my ass. “Get me ready.”

“Jesus, Ryder…”

He opened me up, tugged me back, kneading my ass, swiped his tongue from my balls to my hole, darting and sucking and licking, and fuck… it felt good. So good. He pressed lube inside, his finger crooking and brushing my prostate, and I cursed, then curled over like a damn pretzel, anything to get my mouth on his cock, which I worried and teased, then swallowed to the base.

“Turn… around…” he managed, “I want to see your face.”

I scrambled to obey, nearly kneeing him in the face, which could have been awkward if it hadn’t broken the tension and made us grin at each other like idiots. He edged back on the bed, but his feet were on the floor. I rolled on a condom, then slathered him with lube, pushing more in my loose ass, then with my knees spread, I clambered until I straddled his lap.

“More,” I demanded, even though it was me who lined up, circling his cock, holding it still as I pressed down. The burn was exquisite, it was everything, it was… him… and after initial resistance, I pushed out. He slid in an inch at a time, and I controlled it all, until balls-deep I was in his lap, kissing him, letting my body adjust as he cradled my face as if I were something perfect.

I shifted a little, experimentally, closing my eyes into a kiss as he groaned low in his throat, then I clasped his shoulders, holding myself steady.

I gasped into the kiss. “Open your eyes,” he pleaded.

I opened them, lost in his stormy gaze.

Then, I set a rhythm, rocking, rolling, up, down. He tried to follow me at first, but it was too much, and this wasn’t about pain, it was supposed to be him forgetting, it was supposed to be pleasure. I kissed his neck again, biting his corded muscles, and with every sharp nip, he shivered, and I was the most powerful thing in this fucking room, to have control over this strong man. I could break him apart, heal him one orgasm at a time, this was everything.

“Close,” he mumbled, warning me as I ground down on him, balancing myself on his shoulders, then tugging him to hold me close, upright.

The intimacy was more than I’d ever felt, his lips on my skin as he held me, and we rocked together. Then, he gasped against my lips and threw back his head, his muscles cording as I licked and sucked the marks I’d put there. He stiffened, his eyes wide, his mouth open when I stared up at him, and he was coming inside me, and it pushed me over the edge. I cursed and writhed, and he stilled me, holding me so close I couldn’t move, my cock trapped between us, as my orgasm tore from me and I called his name, seeking a kiss, desperate for more as August kissed me.

We were done. Finished. Complete and together.

“I’ve never felt…” he whispered.

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