Page 72 of Broken Instrument

“Hads––”

“Hey, it’s an innocent question,” she teases, licking along my jawline then nibbling on my ear. My blood rushes to my groin, and it takes everything inside of me to keep from thrusting against her hand.

“No.”

“Have you even orgasmed since you stopped using?”

“I did the other night. When you were drugged,” I clarify.

Her jaw drops, and she peeks up at me. “You did?”

“Came like a twelve-year-old kid as I listened to you get off.”

She laughs, the sound shooting straight to my chest and making me feel lighter than I could’ve ever imagined. Especially after a night like tonight.

“Best compliment I’ve ever had,” she tells me, climbing off my lap and offering her hand. When I take it, she says, “But I think we should make it a little more fun this time, don’t you?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Her straight white teeth dig into her lower lip. “Do you trust me?”

With a knot lodged in my throat, I dip my chin. “More than I’d like to admit.”

“Good.” She drags me down the hall and toward her bed. “I’ve decided there’s one of two things you crave when on something. It’s either A, the lack of control is what appeals to you because you don’t have to overthink or over analyze the repercussions. You’re able to simply feel. Or B, the drugs are appealing because they give you a safe space and an excuse to take control of what you want without overthinking or over-analyzing the repercussions. The question is, which does it do for you? The night I was drugged, I felt like I could take what I wanted, and it was quite appealing. I had courage, and while I won’t be going down that road again as far as the actual drugs are concerned, I can see the appeal of having that power, that control, and I’m going to work on utilizing it when I’m not on something.”

“Is that why you’re being bossy right now?” I joke. But I’m not gonna lie. It's hot as hell.

Her mouth quirks up on one side, and she pushes against my chest hard enough for my ass to land on the bed behind me. “Maybe. What I want to know is the why behind your craving.”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it.”

“All right. Let’s play a little game and see if we can come to any conclusions.”

“What kind of game?” I ask.

“Lie back and put your hands behind your head. If you move them, I stop. We clear?”

“Hads…”

The warning in my voice makes her pause before she climbs next to me on the mattress and cups my cheek. “Let me preface all of this by saying if you’re not ready, it’s okay. But also, we aren’t going to have sex tonight, and I think you could use the distraction.”

“We aren’t?” My throbbing erection says otherwise, but my head? It’s fighting its own battle, and I think she can see it in my eyes.

With a soft smile, she leans down and presses a sweet, almost innocent kiss against my lips. But when I run my tongue along her bottom lip, she pulls away, running her fingers along the slight scruff of my jaw.

“I don’t want to push you into anything you aren’t ready for. But I do want to see you happy and to see you not so terrified of the things you can’t control. A relationship is about push and pull. Give and take. I think you were so used to people taking things from you, you started to feel like the only time you could take anything for yourself was when you were on something. I want to give to you. Without any expectations on your end. I want you to sit back and enjoy. But if it feels like too much, and I’ve pegged the situation wrong, all you have to do is say stop, and I’ll stop. No questions asked. Understand?”

There isn’t pity in her gaze. No reservations. Simply…a desire to understand. To help. To accept. And it’s the latter that pushes me forward. Lifting myself onto my elbows, I kiss her again, dragging my tongue across her bottom lip like I did a minute ago and sucking it into my mouth. She moans softly, her hand warm against my chest as she balances herself beside me.

When she pulls away a few seconds later, her eyes are glazed with lust but also hesitation. Like she knows this is pushing me, and she can’t decide whether or not she should keep doing it.

“I trust you,” I repeat.

She leans in again, her lips brushing against mine as if she’s reluctant to end our kiss the same way I am. Because I feel safe when I’m lost in her lips. When I’m lost in her gaze. I don’t feel so broken.

Moving up to the shell of my ear, she whispers, “I’ve got you, Fen.”

Then, her lips trail down my neck, my scruff scratching her sensitive lips as she travels lower, lifting the hem of my shirt to drop kisses along my abs and lower stomach until she reaches my jeans. My muscles tighten with anticipation as the top button slips open and the zipper slides down a few inches.

---