Page 56 of A Little Broken

“You swallow me so good, Birthday Girl,” I rasp, running my thumb along cheek. “So fucking good.”

Her head bobs back and forth with a new level of fervor, as if my words—my praise—turns her on. It drives me further insane.

“Good girl. Just like that.”

Squeezing the base of my dick, she massages me with her hand and her mouth as she hollows her cheeks.

“Fuck, Tate. Fuck!” My cock spurts inside of her, and she swallows it, licking every drop of cum while I unload in her mouth. My thoughts blur into a haze, the world around me disappearing until all that’s left is me and her and how good this fucking feels.

Knees weak, I lean forward, letting the black rock hold my weight and dig into my palm. My mind reels, and I try to piecetogether how we got here. I approached her for answers. For the fucking truth. And now, here we are.

What the hell just happened?

My softening dick slips past her lips as I rasp, “That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“Maybe that’s why I did it.” Her tongue darts out, and she licks the corner of her mouth. “Good to see you, Pax.”

I offer my hand to help her stand, but she doesn’t take it. Pushing to her feet, she folds at the waist, brushing the sand from her knees like she just finished building a sandcastle instead of giving me the best head I’ve ever had. And just like that, my frustration, my pent-up annoyance, flares back to life, leaving me dumbfounded and off-balance.

As she starts to move around me, I block her escape, demanding, “Give me your number.”

“No.”

“Give me your number.”

Her attention flicks to me, finally gracing me with a look of indifference. “Why should I?”

“Because no matter how many times you deny it, I know you’ve thought of me, too.”

With a slow blink, she looks down and adjusts her shirt. “I haven’t?—”

“You have,” I growl. “And when you go home tonight and touch yourself, you’ll think of me. But here’s the thing, Birthday Girl.” I move closer, forcing my hands to stay at my sides when all I want to do is tug her into me. “None of those orgasms will compare to what I’m going to do to you the next time I get my hands on you.”

“Who says I’ll let you get your hands on me again?” She peeks up at me another time, those thick, dark lashes reminding me of exactly what we did two minutes ago. My dick twitches.

“Tatum—”

“You don’t know me, Pax. And trust me, pursuing me will only be a waste of time.”

I stay quiet, pressing my lips into a thin line as I consider the woman in front of me. The air around us charges with every passing second while I attempt to piece together her motive for pushing me away. For lying. For being so damn stubborn when it’s clear she’s interested in me, too. Is she like this with everyone? And if she is, how the hell has she survived because looking at her makes me want to smack her ass. She’s so damn guarded. Even now, with her head held high and nothing but acid on her tongue and the taste of my cum, I can’t help but wonder… “Who hurt you, Birthday Girl?” I ask.

With the slightest flinch, hell it’s so small I almost miss it, she ignores my question, raising her chin another inch. “It looks like my job here is done, so if you’ll excuse me?—”

“Give me a chance,” I order.

“Why? So you can waste your time?” she challenges. “I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t sleep with the same guy twice.”

Her confession makes me pause, and I replay every sexual encounter we’ve had. My hands, my mouth, my cock. They’ve each taken a turn in her tight little pussy but only once. Never twice. Including tonight. Fuck, I offered to bend her over and make her come if she promised to be quiet, but I couldn’t. Not without Tatum giving in and breaking her rule. So she did the only thing she could. The only thing we hadn’t done before.

“It’s why you gave me your mouth,” I realize.

“Exactly.” She shrugs. “One and done, Pax. It’s all I’m looking for.”

All she’s looking for? She’s driving me insane, yet she has the discipline to just…walk away after experiencing chemistry like this? Determined, I tell her, “Then let me take you out and return the favor.”

“Take me out?”

“On a date,” I say. “A real one. With lobster rolls, the ocean, and my mouth.”

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