Page 34 of Tuned To Break
Fuck, she’s driving me mental.
I’ve jerked off twice tonight thinking about her, and I’m still hard. Every time I close my eyes, I see her on that desk last Friday—feel her trembling against me as I made her come. The memory of her taste. The sound of her breathing my name. It’s fucking torture.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it, expecting a work email or maybe one of the guys asking about tomorrow’s schedule.
Instead, I see her name.
Stella
Fuck it. I need you. NOW.
My heart kicks into overdrive. Two seconds—maybe less—before I’m out of bed, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt. My hands are shaking as I type back.
Jake
On my way.
I don’t question it. Don’t think about what this means or whether it’s a good idea. All I know is that Stella needs me, and nothing else matters.
The drive to her place takes fifteen minutes, but it feels like hours. She’s in a small apartment in New Hope, not far from the workshop. I’ve never been here before, but I looked up her address in the employee files—not in a creepy way, just… curious.
Her porch light spills a warm glow when I pull in. It’s a beacon pulling me —straight to hell or heaven, depending on how you look at it. My cock’s already hard thinking about what’s behind that door. Then I don’t have to think anymore, because before I can knock, it swings open.
And fuck me.
She’s standing there in nothing but a silk robe that barely kisses the tops of her thighs. The fabric clings to her curves like it was custom-made to torment me. Her red hair’s loose, a fiery halo that makes her green eyes look darker—full of hunger, heat, and all the filthy promises I’ve been craving since we met.
“You came,” she breathes, voice soft but dripping with need.
I grin, stepping forward, crowding into her space until my chest brushes hers. “You asked,” I growl, and then I’m inside, kicking the door shut with my boot.
The second the latch clicks, she’s on me. Mouth crashing into mine like she’s starving and I’m the fucking feast.There’s nothing gentle about it. It’s raw, desperate. The kind of kissthat leaves your lips bruised and your brain white-noise static because the only thing that matters ismore.
Her fingers fist in my shirt, like she’s trying to drag me inside her body through sheer force of will. The whimper she makes when my tongue sweeps against hers shoots straight to my cock.
“I tried to stay away,” she gasps between kisses, lips slick, breathless. “Tried to be professional, but—I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Good.” My voice is gravel as I shove her back against the door, pinning her there like the sin she is. “Because you’ve been torturing me.”
My hands roam—greedy—over silk that barely hides the heat of her skin. The robe’s useless. Nothing but a flimsy excuse for decency I’m about to tear apart.
When my hand slides between her thighs and hits bare skin, I pause just long enough to chuckle darkly.
“No panties,” I murmur against her mouth, teeth scraping her bottom lip before sucking it into mine.
“Easy access,” she whispers, voice like a fucking drug.
“Fucking hell, Stella,” I growl, and the sound is pure animal. “You’re going to kill me.”
I drop my mouth to her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. My teeth graze her pulse before I bite down, not hard enough to mark—yet—but enough to make her moan and arch like she’s offering herself up to me.
“Bedroom,” she pants.
“Lead the way, darl,” I rasp, but I don’t give her the chance to take more than a step. I spin her around in the hallway, press her against the wall, and take her mouth again—my cock grinding against her hip.
“I’ve been thinking about this since that night at Grumpy’s,” I tell her, hot against her lips. “Thinking about how you’d lookin your bed. What you’d sound like when I’ve got you trembling and screaming my name.”
The tie of her robe doesn’t stand a chance. One hard tug, and it falls open—sliding off her shoulders to pool at her feet like surrender.
