Page 101 of Tuned To Break
He starts to move. Deep, steady thrusts that leave me breathless and clawing at his back. His hands grip my hips, adjusting the angle until he finds the spot that makes me cry out.
“That’s it,” he growls. “Take it, darl. Take all of me.”
Every thrust is a vow.
Every word is a brand.
I am his and he is mine and nothing else matters except the heat between us and the way our bodies know each other like home.
His hand returns to my throat, not squeezing now, just resting there.
A reminder.
“I’ve got you,” he says, rough and reverent. “Always.”
I shatter again loud, my body shaking as my orgasm consumes me. He follows, spilling into me with a curse and a groan.
We lie tangled in the sheets, breathing hard, limbs boneless.
Jake rolls to his side and brushes sweat-damp hair from my forehead. “You okay?”
“I think I just saw God.”
He laughs, a low rumble that vibrates through my ribs. “That good, huh?”
I turn to him, my heart still thundering. “You make me feel safe. Wanted. Brave.”
“That’s because you are all those things,” he says, cupping my cheek.
I tuck into his chest and trace the lines of the noose tattoo now resting lightly on my hip—the same hand that just made me fall apart.
“You scared me at first,” I admit. “That night at the masquerade. The way you took control… I wasn’t used to it.”
“But you liked it.”
“I did. And now I love it. I love you.”
He pulls me closer. “You’re not alone anymore, Stella. Not ever again.”
I close my eyes and breathe him in, he smells like grease, sweat, sex and home.
Tomorrow, maybe I’ll decide what kind of relationship I want with Doc.
But tonight, I’m exactly where I need to be.
Wrapped in Batman’s kinky cousin.
Loved.
Safe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JAKE
Thursday morning finds me elbow-deep in the engine bay of a ‘67 Shelby GT500, wrestling with a particularly stubborn carburettor that seems determined to make my life difficult. The workshop hums with its usual energy—tools clanging, the radio playing, and that steady rhythm of productive work I’ve come to love about this place.
What I love most, though, is the sound of Stella’s heels clicking across the concrete as she makes her rounds, checking on projects and keeping us all in line. She’s been in a surprisingly good mood since her meeting with Doc two days ago; the weight she’d been carrying lifted.
