Page 101 of Breaking Away

I didn’t expect it from him. Which is absurd, for we’ve only been living together for so long, but I’ve come to expect things… of him.

“I should pretend I don’t care or convince myself it doesn’t matter,” I say, as if speaking to myself. “But that’s how I used to be. I don’t think I want to do that anymore.”

Slowly, I take my fingers off his mouth.

“Trust me,” he immediately begs.

Shouldn’t today be a reminder? That I must not. “How?”

“I’ll give you anything. What do you want, Kavi?”

You.

That’s the humongous, highlighted answer hanging in the background.

Since he came back into my life, the man that I think about when I touch myself is Dmitri. I can’t lie to myself in this moment. Especially when he surrounds me like this. The smell of him is so clean. There’s soap and something else, a bone-deeply addicting essence. Despite the prickling ointment, I could brush my nose against every inch of him. It would be euphoric.

And his hands?—

They hold my legs, warmth enveloping my skin.

It’s so good, but it’s not enough, is it? The pressure of the rest of his body on mine is a ghost. So faint I could die. My body trembles.

He strokes my dimpled leg. I look down to where his fingers have splayed against my brown skin. “Do you like touching me?”

“It kills me,” he confesses.

My fingers encircle one of his wrists. “So you should stop?”

“That would kill me more.”

Would it? Would it really? I want to see. I don’t believe him.

“Go… back up a little. And… hands off.” It’s my first real order. And it… thrills me?

Without a word, he obeys. That has me panting. Dmitri Lokhov doesn’t care about or listen to anyone else, and yet he’s looking at me as if I’m the start and the end of this night to him. I pull myself up higher on the chaise. My pleated skirt pools around my waist, but it’s not enough. I raise the hem, more and more, until it’s flipped over.

“Fuck!Kavi?—”

“No talking.”

It’s on display. How drenched I’ve become, soaking through cotton. I don’t take off my underwear, but I graze the center ofit. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I also can’t seem to care. His words replay in my head.He loves to touch me?

“You… can look. But you can’t touch it.” Slowly, I move my underwear to the side, watching his expression.

Angles stand out. There’s a seizing of his body before it goes intensely rigid. A deep, lumbering noise escapes Dmitri.

I dip in and out of my wetness. I’ve never been so close before like this.

“Fuck. Fuck. You don’t want these?” He turns his palms and holds them out to me. “Let me. Fuck—Let me.”

Slowly, I circle my clit. “I’ve got to learn how to stand on my own,” I murmur. “To count on myself. To decide for myself what I want and deserve. I’m the only one who can make myself feel this way. Who knows how to do this job.” Pleasure laps every corner of my cunt. It’s crying out for something thick, but I ignore it. “You said it, Dmitri. How you’re another hockey player. The same as them all, right? Calling me Princess like it’s whatever?—”

“You think I don’t mean it?” he wheezes.

“How many women do you call Princess? Is that your thing?” I don’t want to be blindsided again. “Who else is your Princess?”

“No one. Only you. Always only you.”

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