Page 109 of All Her Broken Pieces

“Emma! It’s so good to see you. Were we expecting you?” Bridget says as she pulls my oldest sibling into a quick hug, and then helps carry her bags into the kitchen.

“Ethan texted me saying he needed groceries,” she offers, but there’s a hint of sadness in my sister’s normally chipper tone and my hackles rise.

“I’m the worst girlfriend ever,” Bridget says as she moves around the kitchen putting items away. “I’ve been so consumed at work, I totally forgot his procedure was today.”

A sob bursts from Emma’s throat as she braces herself on the counter. I’m frustrated that moving is so uncomfortable right now and that I can’t get to her, when I see Bridget pull her into a hug. Bridget is not very affectionate with anyone other than me, and it tugs at my heart to see how much she’s grown since I first met her. I love this woman so goddamn much.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Bridget soothes as Emma’s grip tightens on her. “I promise I’ll be a better girlfriend,” she teases as her fingers comb through Emma’s light-brown locks.

Emma’s shoulders shake, and I can tell that Bridget’s joke has eased some tension in her.

“What’s going on, Emma?” I ask, wincing as I push myself to sitting and swing my legs to the floor, attempting to stand.

“Let’s sit so he doesn’t try to hurt himself,” Bridget says as she ushers Emma onto the loveseat across from me.

“It’s nothing. Shoot, I’m sorry,” Emma sobs, wiping at her tears.

Bridget’s eyes connect with mine in a knowing look. “How about you hang with us tonight? We’re making migas from Nonna’s recipe cards. I’d never heard of it before, but Ethan showed me the ingredients, and it sounded delicious, like a Tex-Mex scramble. I’m assuming those groceries are the ingredients Ethan asked you to pick up for him?”

Emma nods as she continues swiping at her face.

“Then it’s settled. You and I will cook while Ethan bosses us around.”

“He’s good at being bossy,” Emma says as a hint of a smile crosses her lips.

“And maybe after we can pop on some face masks and watch a movie?” Bridget offers.

“Only if Ethan wears one too,” my sister agrees, smirking at me.

“Oh, he always wears one,” Bridget assures her.

“I do. We have a whole get-unready-with-me routine. I’ll even let you film me doing it if you want.”

It’s clear something is going on with my sister, and while she might not be ready to share, she knows we’ll be here when she’s ready to talk.

Five Months Later

Bridget

“Such a good fucking girl,” he whisper-growls as he pushes his cock deeper into my throat.

After a year and a half of blow jobs, and a lot of practice, I’m finally able to take almost all of Ethan’s cock, and I enjoy every second of turning him into a whimpering, whispering mess of a man.

It’s actually adorable to see the way his eyes light up then immediately roll back in his head as soon as my lips touch his skin, like he almost can’t believe this is real, that I’m real. And let me tell you what it does to my ego. I’ve always been a very sexual person, and after years of no-strings sex with men, I’m aware of the control I have over them when I’m between their knees. But Ethan is the first man to look at me with a reverent appreciation when I go down on him.

There’s a knock on the door, and I pause my movements and let Ethan answer since I have a mouthful.

“Occupied,” he grits out before cupping my cheek and tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ears.

“Hurry the fuck up,son,” the voice bellows back as my eyes get wide and I look up at Ethan.

He cups my neck and pushes his cock deeper into my mouth as drool dribbles down my chin and tears prick my eyes.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ethan manages to say with a somewhat normal tone, but he grabs the sink behind me and his knuckles turn white as I tug on his balls and run my finger further back. His breaths get shallow and quick before he is exploding in my mouth as I eagerly work to swallow every drop.

Ethan stuffs himself back in his pants and flushes the toilet, presumably to make it sound like he was using it, while I wash my hands. He nods to signal that he’s going to leave first and I stand behind the door to wait for the all-clear.

“Hey, Dad. It’s about time you showed up. We were supposed to meet thirty minutes ago,” he says as he closes the door behind him. Hank reached out a few days ago to meet up with us.

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