Page 129 of Breaking Away

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KAVI

He carriesme to his bedroom, placing me down on obsidian sheets.

The difference in our heights with me half-lying down and him standing over me makes our lips pull apart. My spine melts into the mattress. I lie down and look up at him.

Since he’s wearing those silver rings again on his knuckles, I watch them shift in the light as he finds the base of his stiff bulge through his pants, squeezing. His tendons stand out. Pink slashes across his cheekbones.

“If you want me to stop,” he says through clenched teeth. “Or if you don’t like something that happens, will you tell me?”

The fact that I’m splayed out here, basically panting, I would think my desire was obvious. I smile.

His expression tightens as if he’s using everything in himself to hold back. “I’m going to need a yes from you, Princess.”

I palm my clothed pussy and hold my hand there. I turn my head to heave a breath in for the yes?—

And see them. His glasses.

NO.

I forgot about them.

“What is it?” Dmitri demands to know. “Something went through your head. What is it?”

He’s moving fast to investigate, scouring the table until he sees. His fingers pluck up the frames.

He holds them up in the light, and then slowly slides them on.

Thick-framed, as black as his dark waves, in the same tonal family as those inked arms. Nerd-jock-sex-god-bad-boy. It’s an implosion. My thighs clench so hard my knees clack.

Now he’s back, looking down at me. His height blots the overhead light. It should be sinister the way his shadow swallows my body, but the slickness between my legs tells me I love it. He’s so—so—big, and overpoweringly there. Dark strands fall off his forehead. Those glasses make his golden eyes more looming and serious, fully focused on me.

A muscle in his jaw leaps. “Tell me, lo—Kavi. Was that a yes?”

“Yes,” I practically yell.

“Good. What makes you come? I need to know.”

I’m so horny he could ask me anything and I’ll answer. “My fingers…”

“And?”

“My fingers.”

His head slants. He’s mulling my answer over. I wriggle, not trusting myself to coherently explain that Tyler could never figure out how to be as good as my hand. That I am the kind of woman who needsagesof stimulation with someone else, but can mysteriously come within minutes by myself. That so many nights I blamed it on myself when Tyler found out, calling my pussyshyin an apologetic voice, playing it off as a joke.

Sorry it’s being shy today. Sorry for not being able to fully relax and mentally go all in. Sorry to myself… for being so sorry… but I can’t help but be sorry.

Dmitri’s hands rest on my thighs. “Come closer.”

My pussy clenches as he wriggles me forward, my legs finding the edge of his bed, dangling. Dmitri bends, gathering the band of my shorts in his hands. He pulls them down my legs until I’m exposed. One of his fingers comes to feel the fabric of my panties. His breath is a hiss. “Drenched.”

From this angle, his erection and my core can join. All he has to do is push cotton to the side, unzip himself free, and then push into me. It’s all I want. That’s all I need.

Instead, Dmitri grabs a pillow and kneels. One knee is propped on the pillow and the other is not. Before I can figure out why, palms push my legs wider.

“You don’t have to,” I say, reaching out. “I’m ready. I’m wet enough.”Clearly.

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