Page 65 of Tuned To Break
I kiss her again while my hand works her body. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”
“Like I’m going to lose my mind.”
“You will,” I promise, biting gently at her bottom lip. “I’m going to ruin you in the best fucking way.”
Sliding down her body, I hook her legs over my shoulders and press my mouth to her soaked pussy. She gasps—aragged, helpless sound that makes my cock throb.
I lick her slowly at first, savouring every twitch, every moan, every time she claws at the cushions and curses my name like it’s a sin.
Then I wrap one hand around her thigh and the other around her throat. Not tight—just enough for her to feel it. Enough to make her arch like a goddamn prayer.
“Jake—oh fuck?—”
“That’s it, darl,” I growl into her. “You like that? My hand on your throat, my tongue on your cunt?”
She nods frantically, already teetering on the edge.
“You look so pretty like this. Dripping for me. Shaking for me. Mine.”
I don’t stop until she comes—hard, loud, messy—clenching around nothing, hips bucking like she’s forgotten which way is up. Her body goes limp beneath me, chest heaving.
I pull back, licking my lips, and crawl up her body. “You still breathing?”
“Barely,” she whispers.
“Good.” I kiss her again. “Because I’m not done.”
I shove my jeans down, her eyes going wide when she sees how hard I am.
“Jesus.”
“Too much for you?”
She gives a wicked, breathless grin. “I’ll manage.”
I sink into her slowly, both of us groaning at the stretch. Her legs wrap around me instantly, nails digging into my back.
“Fuck, you feel good. So warm. So tight. Perfect, Stella.”
“So do you, Jake. Now move,” she orders.
I chuckle but do as I’m told—long, deep thrusts that make the couch creak and her voice break. She clutches at me like she’s drowning, and I don’t slow until she says the words again.
“I love you,” she gasps, and I almost lose it right there.
I wrap my hand around her throat again, holding her gaze as I fuck her deeper. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Jake.”
That’s the moment everything shifts.
I kiss her like I’m never going to stop. Hold her like I never want to let go. And when I come, it’s with a groan that sounds more like surrender than victory.
Afterwards, I don’t pull away. I just wrap her in my arms, resting my cheek against hers while we catch our breath—tangled, spent, and a little bit ruined.
“I meant it,” I whisper against her skin. “Every word.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “Me too.”
