Page 48 of Bend & Break
She catches herself on her hands with a sharp breath, hair falling into her face. For a second, she stays there, poised between scrambling away and giving in. Then she looks back at me, a spark in her eyes that tells me it’s no accident she hasn’t gotten up yet.
She crawls toward me slowly, knees dragging across dusty concrete. Every inch she closes between us knots tighter in my gut, and I can’t decide if I want to reach for her or wait and let the anticipation burn.
She doesn’t say anything when she stops in front of me, when her hands slide up my thighs. Just looks up at me, pupils blown wide, mouth tilted with intent. My back hits the nearest wall. It’s instinct more than decision. I need something solid behind me, because the second her fingers trail over my belt, every nerve in my body lights up.
I thought I would be the one in control, the one giving her what she needs.
And Iwill.
But this?—
I can’t?—
I don’t know how she manages to make it feel reverent and obscene at the same time.
Her touch is firm but exploratory, knuckles dragging slowly across the skin at the base of my abdomen as she works to open my jeans.
I let my head fall back, sucking in air that’s hot and thick with the leftover haze of fog machines and dust. She doesn’t rush. Just takes her time like she’s trying to learn me by feel alone.
Her hand curls around my dick, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything so good, so utterly right, in my entire life. It’s not just the heat or the pressure or the way her hand moves around me—it’s the complete unraveling of thought, the way every fiber of my being locks onto this one moment.
Because it’s her. Because it’s Blake. No one else could drag me under like this, make my body beg while my brain short-circuits. Not like this.
It’s the soft, involuntary sound she makes when I twitch against her tongue. The way she looks up at me while she does it, eyes locked on mine. She swirls her tongue around the head in a way that makes this feel like some test she’s determined to ace, and I’m barely holding it together enough to form a coherent thought, let alone tell her that she gets an A fucking plus. Gold star, top of the class.
Each twitch of muscle, every shift I can’t control, winds me tighter. Every thought that barrels through my head comes harder, heavier, until it drags my breathing shallow. I can’t pull in enough air to match the pace my body’s demanding.
She is unhurried and methodical, the hot, wet heat of her mouth engulfing me inch by inch. Pressure builds behind my eyes. She doesn’t rush—just takes me deeper, her tongue teasing, her throat flexing, and all I can do is grit my teeth, every second that passes threatening to split me wide open.
My fingers find her hair, not to guide her, just to hold on. The strands are soft, sliding through my knuckles until I’m involuntarily tightening my grip, pulling snug at the roots.
She sets the pace and I let her, overwhelmed by how good it feels, how goodshefeels.
Every few seconds, I mutter things without meaning to. Strings of expletives, ragged and half-broken, spilling out before I can catch them. Her name, over and over, sometimes whispered, sometimes torn straight from my chest. It’s the only thing anchoring me, the only solid thought in the rush of heat and noise driving me past my limit.
I come faster than I mean to, faster than I’m proud of—staggering and relentless, my body locking up as the pressure finally snaps. It’s violent in its intensity, drawn out by the way she doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter, just takes it, her mouth still around me as every last pulse wracks through me.
My vision goes a little blurry. My thoughts scatter. There is nothing in the world but her, and this, and the way I can’t seem to stop shaking.
I’m strung out, spine pressed to cold stone, heart galloping in my chest. She presses a quick, almost playful kiss to the inside of my thigh, then tugs at the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe the corner of her mouth, as though she didn’t just dismantle me in under five minutes.
I yank the mask off, pull her up into my arms, kiss her hard, because there’s no way I’m letting that go unrewarded.
My hands lock at her waist, hauling her closer until there’s no space left between us, her breath mixing with mine as the taste ofusfloods through me. It’s rough and desperate, the only way I know to give back what she just took from me in this moment immediately after.
I rest my forehead against hers, regaining my bearings.
“Oh good, it’s you,” she giggles, she says, voice dripping with mock relief, as if she just spent the last several minutes wondering if it really was me.
I can’t speak yet. Just grin and hold her tighter.
The set around us is empty, but not secure. Lights hum overhead, wires snake across the floor, and somewhere beyondthe walls, people are still working. Here, though—here it feels like we’ve stolen something. Illusion of privacy, nothing more. At any second, someone could walk in and see exactly how far gone I am for her. Maybe that’s why I don’t let go. Maybe that’s why I pull her even closer, daring the universe to interrupt.
Tomorrow, we go back to playing detectives.
Tonight, I’m hers.
And she’s fuckingmine.
