Page 4 of What Broke First
She looked up, her mouth curving. “Shh. Let me.”
His head tipped back against the couch. Eyes closed. His body gave in, even while his mind fractured under the weight of everything he’d lost.
Later, lying in her bed, listening to her soft, contented breathing, he felt the hollowness yawning wider inside him. He had gotten what he thought he wanted, but at what cost?
Sarah’s face. Tommy’s trust. Emily’s unicorn. Alone in that big house without him.
He wondered if this was desire or just the biggest mistake of his life.
Chapter 2: The Allure of the New
Matt squinted against the sunlight slicing through the blinds. It was too bright, too exposed, not like the soft filtered light of his and Sarah’s room, where the curtains had always been drawn just enough to keep the morning gentle.
This was his first real morning waking up somewhere foreign. He was disoriented. Even the air smelled different; her absence clung to him like a second skin.
He turned onto his side and found Lily already watching him, propped on one elbow, smiling like she had just won something.
“Morning,” she said, her fingertip drawing lazy circles on his chest.
Matt blinked, still adjusting. Her room smelled like lavender and expensive shampoo, not clean laundry and coffee. Even the sheets felt foreign. Cool and sleek. Not soft. Not home.
“Were you watching me sleep?” he asked, his voice still rough.
Lily grinned.“Maybe.”
He let out a low laugh, but it landed flat.“Let’s hope that’s not one of your low-key stalker tendencies.”
“Only when the view’s worth it,” she teased.
Matt smiled, but a pang of unease slid through him. There was something about being watched while sleeping that made his skin crawl. He couldn’t explain why. He just filed it away. A red flag, maybe. Small. But still waving.
Lily leaned over, her lips brushing against his ear.“I have a surprise for you,” she whispered, her hand slipping lower beneath the sheets. Matt’s breath hitched, his body responding instantly to her touch.
She moved with confidence, her body sliding down him, her hips grinding slowly, teasingly. Matt groaned, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her closer. She smirked, leaning down to kiss him deeply, her tongue sliding against his. The kiss lingered, heavy with demand, more command than invitation.
She was in control, her movements becoming more urgent, more dominating. Matt let himself get lost in her, in the way she felt, the way she moved. Every touch, every kiss was fevered, setting his senses on fire. He felt her core tremble around him, her breath quickening, and he knew she was close. He kissed her like a man clawing for amnesia. Every sound she made fed his body, but starved something else inside him.
He thrust up into her, his hands guiding her movements, and she cried out, her body gone limp with pleasure. He followed soon after, his release hitting him hard, leaving him breathless and panting.
As they lay there, sated and spent, Lily laughed, a sound filled with satisfaction.“You’re mine now, Matt,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of possessiveness and triumph.
Lily traced a finger along his collarbone, her voice honey-sweet.
“You know... I’ve never been with an older man before,” she said, almost shy.“You’re so... confident. Rough, in a good way. Like you know things. It’s kind of hot.”
She giggled and leaned in like she had just shared a secret.“I always feel like such a rookie with you. You just... take over.”
Matt didn’t reply. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and guilt. The words should have flattered him. They didn’t. His mind spun in restless loops, snagging on the same unanswerable question. Was guilt a tether strong enough to pull him home, or the very chain that kept him in Lily’s bed, sated yet undone in all the places that counted?
What once had felt like validation now landed like a diagnosis.
A grim reminder that he wasn’t her equal. He was her detour. A lesson. A story she would tell later, with a half-smile and no regret.
What he had mistaken for a spark suddenly felt like a spotlight, bright, unrelenting, and aimed directly at his regrets. The sex had been incredible, unlike anything he had ever experienced, but a part of him felt empty, as if he had lost something he could never get back.
And he had, because right now, Sarah was telling her parents that Matt was a cheating asshole.
She was sitting at their kitchen table, her fingers worrying the edge of a napkin she’d folded into tight, uneven squares. Across from her, Helen Whitfield’s face shifted from concern to disbelief to something harder, the kind of rage only a mother could wear.
