Page 59 of Hymns of the Broken
I claw at the sheets, at his hair, desperate and shaking. Every sound coming out of me is raw and wrecked.
He pullsback just long enough to growl, “You taste so fucking sweet, Sawyer. I could do this all night. I’m going to make you cum for me until you can’t even remember his name. Until all you know is me.”
And then he’s back, tongue working me faster, rougher, adding two fingers and curling them inside me until I’m right at the edge—no escape, no holding back.
“Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl and fucking cum for me.”
Ishatter, pleasure exploding through me, crying his name so loud I don’t care who hears. My legs clamp shut around his shoulders, body shaking, and he just keeps going—licking, sucking, fucking, drawing every tremor out of me. He continues until I cum again for a second time. I’m completely limp, panting, ruined. I've never came back to back like that before.
He give my pussy a final lick before he lifts his head. His mouth and chin are shining with my release, and his eyes are eyes wild and satisfied.
He crawls up the bed and kisses me, letting me taste myself on his tongue.
“Mine,” he whispers against my lips. “Every fucking inch.”
And no part of me can even pretend to disagree.
***
The world is slowly coming back into focus. My body feels like honey, every muscle loose and trembling. I’m still catching my breath when Jasper pulls me into his lap, cradling me against his bare chest, his hands gentler now—thumbs tracing soft circles over my hip and thigh.
He kisses the side of my head, forehead pressed to my temple. “You okay?” His voice is low, still a little rough, but there’s genuine worry there. Genuine care.
I nod, melting into his arms, my face pressed to his neck. “Yeah, more than okay.” I can hear him smiling in his voice when he lets out a relieved laugh.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, kissing my cheek, my nose, anywhere he can reach. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” He strokes my back, like he’s trying to put all my pieces back together.
I disagree, but I don't say anything out loud.
For a while, there’s nothing but the thrum of the bus and the rise and fall of his breathing. I could stay here forever—pressed against the heat of him, his heartbeat steady under my cheek.
He rubs his nose against mine, smiling a soft secret smile that looks like it's only for me. “You need anything? Water? Snack? Another round?” He winks, but it’s lazy.
I shake my head, arms winding around his waist. “Just this.”
He kisses my forehead, running his hand through my hair. “I got you, Trouble.”
He holds me close, tucking us into his bed—no more walls between us, just skin and heartbeats and the safety I never thought I’d find.
We’re wrapped up in the dark, except for the little lights hanging from the clothes rack, tucked against each other, and I can feel the tension finally drain from his body. I press a lazy kiss to his shoulder, my fingers idly tracing the edge of the tattoo on his chest—skeletal hands holding a heart.
He goes quiet, not pulling away but not speaking either. I feel his hand tighten, just a little, on my hip.
“Jasper?” I murmur, voice small in the quiet. “What are you thinking about?”
He sighs, and I feel it rumble through his chest. For a second, I think he won’t answer, but then his thumb rubs against my back, grounding himself. “Just…how easy it is to forget everything else when I’m with you.”
I press closer. “Everything else, like what?”
He swallows. “Well, my mom was…not much of a mom.” His voice cracks, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “It was just me and Silas, most days. We had to look out for each other. Shit got…bad.”
I squeeze him, letting him know I’m listening.
He keeps going, voice distant, like he’s remembering another life. “When I was seven, I saw—” he stops, jaw tight. “I saw some things a kid shouldn’t have to. My mom was a prostitute. She needed money so she could buy her drugs without our father knowing. There were so many men in and out of the house when my dad wasn't home. But he still knew what was going on. He tried to stop her a few times… One time she didn't come home for a week, apparently she was hiding from somebody she owed money to.” He lets out a shaky breath before continuing. “Anyway, to cut it short, I saw someone kill my dad in front of me. I was hiding in a cabinet.” He laughs, but it’s bitter. “Silas was at practice. He still blames himself, but it wasn’t his fault. We ended up in a group home after that.”
I kiss his chest, feeling the old pain woven into his skin. “I'm so sorry, Jasper. You must not talk about it much.”
He shakes his head. “I try not to. But sometimes it’s still there. That feeling that no matter how hard I hold on, someone’s gonna leave. Or I’ll lose them.”
