Page 85 of Break my Heart

A moan breaks loose from me as I wriggle beneath his grip. His hands tighten, holding me firmly in place.

“I loved the way you sucked my dick almost as much as I enjoy eating your pussy.”

He tongues the little piece of jewelry decorating my clit, circling it before drawing it into his mouth.

Barely has he touched me, and it feels like I’ll go off like a rocket. Just when my muscles tighten, he pulls away.

“Ready for that breakfast?”

My eyes widen as I screech, “Are you being serious?”

“Nope. Not at all.” He smirks before burying his face against my drenched flesh. A few lashes of his tongue and a tug of the piercing send me tumbling over the edge as I scream out my orgasm.

It’s only when I huff out a contented breath that he presses a kiss against me.

“Now I’m ready to feed you.”

27

Ava

The second our professor dismisses us for the evening, students scatter from the lecture hall like rats from a sinking ship. I close my laptop and shove it into my backpack, trying not to get caught up in the rush. As I sling the bag over my shoulder, a sense of relief washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced by unease. It’s always like this lately. My mind is never fully at peace.

I push through the glass doors of the building and step into the chilly night air. Even though the days are warming up, the evenings still have a bite to them, and I burrow deeper into the collar of my jacket as I make my way down the path toward my apartment. It’s only a short walk—just a quarter mile from campus—but every step tonight feels heavier than the last.

As I pass by the humanities building, the sound of quick footsteps behind me makes my heart leap into my throat. My mind jumps to the worst-case scenario before I can stop it. My pulse races as I swing around, half-expecting to find the man who refuses to stay buried in my past.

But it’s not him.

It’s just a guy from class jogging to catch up with the girl in front of me. He drops his arm around her shoulders, and they continue walking, laughing and chatting like they don’t have a care in the world. My stomach is a tangle of knots as I force out a slow breath. I’m constantly on edge, waiting for the worst to happen.

It’s exhausting.

I hate how jumpy I’ve become, how every little thing has me thinking about Nathan, about the messages he keeps sending. I thought severing our connection and moving across the country would be enough. Every time my phone vibrates, I wonder if it’s him again. If he’s still there, lurking in the background of my life, refusing to let me move on.

I’m so fucking tired of Nathan controlling my every waking thought when he’s more than likely half a dozen states away, teaching learn-to-skate classes in a small town where no one knows who he is or what he did.

The couple ahead of me turns to the left as I move in the opposite direction.

My shoulders droop with the realization that it might be time to return to therapy. Clearly, I haven’t worked through everything like I’d hoped.

I keep my pace steady, though the prickling sensation of being watched lingers, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The blue safety lights lining the path do little to offer comfort. They’re more like spotlights, illuminating my presence as I hurry past.

When a twig snaps to my left, fear crashes over me. My heart kicks into overdrive as I whip around and scan the darkness for signs of movement.

Could someone be hiding there?

My mouth turns bone dry.

The thought of Nathan, or anyone, following me, makes my chest tighten until I can’t breathe.

Can’t think straight.

It’s all too much.

I don’t want to continue feeling paranoid. Like I’m always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the past to catch up with me.

I’m kicking myself for not taking my car.

---