Page 59 of Bend & Break
His mouth seals over mine again, sucking at my tongue until I’m dizzy, and then he notches his big cock at my entrance andshoves into me, hard enough that the air punches out of my lungs.
Mads pins me to the wall with one arm braced beside my head, his other hand gripping my thigh tight as he drives into me, rough and relentless. Each thrust drags me higher, the rhythm pounding everything else out of my mind until there’s only him—his body, his breath, the way he holds me.
The alley falls away until it’s just the filthy sounds we’re making and the scrape of brick at my back. When I come again, I cling to him, burying my face in his shoulder to muffle the noise tearing out of me. He follows with a rough groan that rattles through my chest, holding me pinned until neither of us can move as he fills me to the brim.
For a long moment, we stay there, breathing hard, pressed together in the dark, like letting go might undo all of it.
By the time he finally sets me back on my feet, I’m wrecked and weightless, completely overwhelmed by what we just did, the disappointment of the night already forgotten.
Chapter 21
Blake
Mads isn’t built for studying.
He’s stretched out beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight, sheets twisted around his legs.
He keeps pulling my attention off the page, the way his muscles flex and shift when he moves, every line of him begging to be stared at. None of it helps me focus.
Eventually, he gets up to take a shower, but it doesn’t help. My eyes still drift to the empty spot beside me.
My textbook’s open across my lap, highlighter wedged between the pages, but I’ve read the same line six times and couldn’t repeat any of it if my life depended on it. The words blur in my mind, tangling with everything we’re already wrapped up in—and withus.
I chew the end of my pen, shoulders tense, every part of me restless.
Outside the window, the trees lining the sidewalk have finally gone full autumn—burnt orange, bright yellow. The air feels thinner the way it does in fall, the rain finally giving us a little reprieve for the evening. It should feel cozy. Instead, it makes the weight pressing on my chest heavier.
My notes are a mess. My brain’s worse. Murder. Masks (the bad kind and the good). Dead Channel. The pieces are all splintered and sharp; trying to put them back would leave me bleeding or end with the whole thing in ruins. I should be working through exam prep, but instead I’m picturing that frozen frame of the video again and again, stuck behind my eyelids.
I pull my eyes back to the page, force myself to underline a sentence just to prove I can.
Focus, Blake. Just focus.If I can control this—my grades, my routine—then maybe everything else won’t feel like it’s closing in.
The shower cuts off. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opens, steam spilling into the room. Mads strolls out in sweats slung low on his hips, towel draped around his shoulders, hair damp enough that a drop slides down the curve of his throat and disappears under the collar of his shirt.
His fuckingcrop top. How many of those things does he have?
“Still studying?” His voice carries that infuriating blend of amusement and disbelief.
“Yes,” I say, firm. Maybe if I say it with enough conviction, it might become true.
He pads over, leans down, and plucks the pen straight out of my hand before I can stop him.
“Hey—”
He bares his teeth in a smile that feels more like a threat than anything. He’s all shameless satisfaction, flipping my notebook closed with his other hand. “Nope. Not happening. You’ve got murder boards in your brain and exam prep on your lap. That’s two disasters too many.”
I glare, but he just sets my stuff on the nightstand. Then he drops onto the bed beside me, curls his body around mine.
“Mads.”
“Blake.” He gives me a look that’s supposed to pass as serious. It’s anything but. “You’re welcome, by the way. Saving you from an evening of self-inflicted torture. Very heroic of me.”
I give him a flat look.
He leans in, drops his voice lower, letting his breath skate across my ear. “I’m a lot more fun than the dynamics of musculoskeletal systems.”
I shove at his shoulder, but he barely budges. “If you’re not going to let me study, at least let me wallow in peace.”
