Page 83 of Broken Pact

“That’s it, baby,” I murmur, my voice rough. “Play with your clit while you suck me. Show me how much you love it.”

She whimpers, her fingers moving faster as she obeys. I thrust into her mouth, the tight heat of her throat wrapping around me. The boat rocks dangerously, and I tighten my grip on her hair, holding her still as I thrust into her willing mouth.

Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of submission and defiance that makes my heart race. She’s mine, every fucking inch of her. Wetness gathers at the edges of her eyes, and I start to pull back, slowing down. I don’t want to push her too far.

She protests before my cock leaves her lips, one hand flying out to wrap around the back of my thigh. She pulls me into her, a silent request not to stop.

The tension builds inside me, a tight coil ready to snap. My grip tightens, my hips snapping forward as I chase my release. “Fuck, baby,” I gasp, my voice breaking. “I’m gonna come.”

She tightens her grip on my leg and her hand works faster against her clit. And that’s it. I can’t hold back any longer.

With a strangled groan, I come, the pleasure crashing over me in endless waves. My vision goes white, the world narrowing down to the hot, wet heat of her mouth. I come down from the high, my breath ragged and uneven.

I slip from her mouth, and she pulls back, her lips swollen and glistening.

She looks up at me, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. The sight of her, flushed and breathing heavy, sends a thrill of possessive pride through me. She’s mine. All mine.

I sink to my knees and claim her mouth once more.

We stay like that for a moment, the boat gently rocking beneath us. The world feels distant, the only sound is the lapping of the water and our heavy breathing.

40

CORALINE

The boat ride back feels like a dream.

I bask in the post-orgasm bliss, a blanket of drowsiness wrapped around my shoulders. The kind of sleepy haze that comes from two amazing orgasms and a morning spent in the sun. I can’t help the contented sigh that escapes my lips, the sound barely louder than the rhythmic splash of the oars cutting through the water. I steal a glance at Jasper, his strong arms moving with an easy grace, and my heart does a funny little flip. There’s a quiet understanding between us, a comfortable silence that feels almost foreign. It’s like we’ve crossed some invisible line, and now we’re here, in this peaceful place where words aren’t necessary.

Jasper secures the boat and steps out, turning to offer me his hand. I take it, feeling the warmth of his fingers as they wrap around mine. He helps me onto the rocks, and our fingers stay laced together as we walk along the paved pathway back to his house. His thumb gently strokes the back of my hand, sending a soft flutter through my chest.

We reach the house, and Pudding greets us at the door with a chorus of meows, weaving figure-eights around our ankles.

“Someone missed you,” I muse, swallowing down my laughter.

Jasper bends down and scratches behind the cat’s ears. “You miss me, Pudding? Or did you miss lunchtime?” he murmurs, his voice soft. Pudding responds by rubbing his cheek against Jasper’s leg, the end of his tail curling over and swishing back and forth.

The fluffball purrs loud enough that I can hear him like he’s right next to my ear. “He sounds like a little motor.”

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” His face softens as he looks at his cat, scooping him up like a little football. He collapses onto the couch, pulling me down with him. Pudding scoots out of the way of my flailing limbs as I try to wriggle away with a laugh.

“We’re all wet from the lake,” I protest, eyeing the cushions. “I don’t want to get your couch dirty.”

His palms slide around my stomach and tug me back toward him. “You’re perfect, just sit with me for a few minutes. Besides, the cushions have washable covers. I wash them all the time because the cat has this annoying habit of bathing himself on the couch.”

“Alright, but don’t blame me if your couch smells like the lake,” I murmur, snuggling into the couch.

“Nah, it’ll smell like sweet cherries and vanilla. And lake water. It’s my new favorite scent,” he says, grabbing my ankles and sliding my legs over his lap.

I shake my head, but I don’t bother stopping the smile from spreading across my face. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“So you keep telling me.” He grabs the remote and turns on an action movie. The living room fills with the murmur of explosions and the occasional dialogue. I’m too blissed out to question the plot, my eyelids growing heavy. The warmth of his body and the gentle rhythm of Pudding’s purr and Jasper’s breaths lull me into sleep.

I wake to the sound of a phone ringing and the low hum of Jasper’s voice. My eyes flutter open, and he’s the first thing I see. Sitting up, with his phone held in front of his face. I don’t say anything right away, too busy blinking and trying to clear the post-nap haze.

“And have they reached out at all?” a female voice asks from his phone. He must be video-chatting someone.

Jasper hesitates. “Yeah, uh, Naomi has reached out a couple times.”

---