Page 31 of Broken Hearts

Crashing my lips onto hers, I’m lost in the familiar taste and warmth of her. It’s a possession, a claiming, as I wrap an arm around her waist, intending to steer her toward the bedroom.

“No,” she mumbles against my lips, her breath hitching.

Her resistance throws me off. I brace myself for the rejection I’ve grown too familiar with. But then she surprises me. “The table will do.” Her voice is a mix of desire and determination.

She wants to fuck? Fine, let’s fuck. I lift her skirt, setting her on the cold surface. Her sharp intake of breath sends a thrill through me.

“Condom,” she insists, nodding toward a drawer near the stove.

Grunting with annoyance, I comply. My hand pauses as I reach for the condom, a surge of bile rising in my throat. The drawer’s location, so oddly convenient, plants a seed of doubt. Images of her with that stupid James Dean trying to fill my shoes flash in my mind, igniting a wildfire of jealousy.

I go back to the table and settle between her legs. I pause, taking a moment to lock eyes with her as I run my hands from her face down to her shoulders, easing her down onto the table. She lies there… my offering.

Bunching her skirt around her waist, I lick my lips, looking at her glistening pussy. She’s so wet and ready for me no matter what game she plays, what lies she’s telling herself; she wants me. Maybe not as obsessively as I want her, but she wants me nonetheless.

I want to eat her, relish her wetness, but I want to be inside her so bad, and I’m sure that if I start licking her now, I’ll come in my pants like a boy.

Pulling her top up, I undo her front-opening bra, her big breasts exposed to my gaze. My mouth waters, knowing I’m merely seconds from having them in my mouth.

Unzipping my jeans, I let out a little moan as I free my hard cock from its restraint. I put the stupid condom on before rubbing the head of my cock on her slit. She lets out a breath as I enter her slowly, relishing how her walls tighten around my length. She’s made for me. Being inside her is even better than I remember. I’ve never felt anything like this.

As she wraps her legs around my waist, our rhythm intensifies, each thrust met with her increasingly fervent moans. They resonate through me, fueling a deeper desire. Her legs tighten around me, urging me on, and I lean down to capture a nipple with my lips, drawing it into my mouth.

The moment she utters my name, a surge of possessive satisfaction courses through me. I let go of her nipple, my hand trailing up her body, a path of heat in its wake until it wraps around her neck. A slight pressure, a familiar edge to our intimacy, and her response is immediate—her walls clench around me, heightening the sensation.

“You love it when I fuck you hard, don’t you, Angel?” I ask, and I can’t stop looking at my hand around her neck as I thrust harder inside her.

“Yes,” she breathes, arching her back, and I see how tightly she holds the edge of the table, stopping herself from reaching for me when all I want is for her to hold me, caress me.

“Touch me,” I growl, but she shakes her head and tightens her hold on the table.

I bury my face in her neck and bite. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave my mark on her milky skin. It was something I loved doing back then… leaving my marks in intimate places. Inside her plush thighs, on her round hip, on her breast.

Mine, mine, only mine, my mind roars as my thrusts turn uncoordinated, my balls tightening, announcing my upcoming orgasm. I can’t stop it; I won’t stop, not after I’ve got her again. I pinch her nipple and start rubbing her clit the way I know will take her over the edge. And then she makes that noise I’m addicted to, and her walls tighten almost painfully around me as she comes. I let go, too, coming hard as I call her name before falling heavily on top of her and licking the mark I left there.

Closing my eyes, I enjoy being against her, smelling her, feeling my softening cock in her tight, warm heat.

As Eva’s hands finally find me, resting on my shoulders, a small smile forms against her skin. This touch, this connection, used to be one of my favorite parts of being with her. Whether we made love or had raw, passionate sex, she always had this way of wrapping herself around me afterward. Her kisses, her gentle caresses, they spoke of love, making me feel cherished.

This time, it’s different. Her touch isn’t tender or loving. Instead, her hands tighten and suddenly push me away. I’m caught off guard, not by the act itself but by the unexpected strength behind it. I stumble backward, unprepared, the distance between us growing in more ways than one. The warmth of her body is suddenly gone, leaving a cold space that’s about more than just physical separation.

In a fluid motion, she’s up and adjusting her clothes. She bends down to pick up the ripped panties from the floor, her movements quick and efficient, so unlike the lingering touches we used to share.

Keeping my eyes on her, trying to gauge her mood, I remove my condom and put my dick back in my pants.

I step toward her, my voice low. “Let’s go to bed.” The first time was rushed, but now I crave more—I want to worship her body, erase the memory of our petty conflicts with pure pleasure.

She spins around, laughter escaping her lips, and I’m taken aback. “No. That was it—one time. Now, I have leverage. Threaten me or my family again, and Jenny will know all about us.”

So that was her angle?! Blackmail? Clever, but she’s misjudged. I can’t help but smirk, thinking of her misplaced triumph. Oh, what a delicious fail!

She frowns as my smile broadens. She was the only one I’ve ever been faithful to. She was the only person I committed to.

I shrug. “Tell her then. I’m not with Jenny. She’s nothing to me since high school.”

Doubt flickers in her eyes, and I press on. “And what about your new guy? The one trying to be James Dean? What will he think of us?”

Her frown deepens, and then her eyes widen with realization. I grit my teeth; I hate that she’s somehow confirming my worst fears. She’s dating that guy. He is enjoying what is mine, and that won’t do.

---