Page 82 of Broken Pieces
It’s just so hard. How do you share something you were reprimanded for doing since you were little? My brain is not wired to do that. I tried working on that issue in therapy during college, but it meant I had to face so many years of childhood trauma I stopped showing upand just started hoping for the best. I’ve never truly given it a fair chance, but I need to figure out a way to do it.Soon.
“Are you hungry? I was going to make some breakfast.”
I nod. “I’m starving. Let’s make it together.”
He hums in approval. “How does French toast sound?”
“Easy enough to make.” I shrug.
He’s making the French toast and bacon as I cut up strawberries and bananas into small pieces.
“You should give me something else to do. At this rate, I won’t learn anything.” I pout.
He shakes his head with a laugh. “Not after the vodka sauce incident.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
He looks at me, regret clouding his gaze. “It was so salty. Why do you think I didn’t let you eat any and pretty much swallowed it in one go? You were so excited and proud of it. I couldn’t break your heart like that.”
I set the knife down and look at him, my stomach flutters like never before at his confession. The act is so silly, but it’s the little things he does that make me feel special.
Tip-toeing in front of him, I place my hand on his jaw and bring him closer for a quick kiss. He melts at my touchand deepens the kiss, enveloping me in his masculine clean cedarwood scent like a warm blanket.
As we break apart, I wave my hand at the kitchen counter where all the ingredients are spread. “I like this look on you. Very domestic,” I joke.
“I’ll show youdomestic,” he says as he swiftly picks me up like I weigh no more than a feather and drops me on the kitchen counter. He quickly reaches for my sweater and takes it off.
“I hate this fucking sweater,” he says in between kisses.
“Why?”
He gives me a knowing look. “Because I know this is a man’s. So, you know what? From now on you can only wearmine.”
With calculated intent, he walks to the trash can and throws it in, then grabs the leftover from the whisked eggs we used to make the French toast and throws them on top of the sweater, completely ruining it.
“Who would have thought you were a jealous, petty man?” I declare with a teasingtsk.
He walks back to me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, closing the distance. I’ve never been a fan of physical touch. Well, how can you really be a fan of something that you never learned? My family wasn’t known for their loving personality. But with Damian, it’s a constant craving. A need to be touched by him, be close to him.
His hands travel up and down my outer thighs, caressing them softly, leaving a trace of goosebumps. He hums, amusement lacing his tone. “What can I say? You just make me that crazy.”
Before I can respond with a witty comeback, he kisses me fervently. This man hasn’t done anything, and I’m already wet and ready for him. His hand travels south and with his index and middle finger, he brushes my center, picking up some of my arousal, causing me to moan.
He brings his finger to my mouth and orders, “Suck.”
I eagerly do, and there’s something so hot and possessive that thrums inside of me knowing I’m tasting myself on his fingers. Damian’s eyes darken with a primal lust, his gaze following my every movement, like the way I roll my eyes in pleasure, and the way I lick my lips with contentment. My core clenches at the sight of him.
“I need you inside of me, now,” Without a second thought, I take his boxer briefs off, and grab his cock, sliding my hand with a soft, feathery touch back and forth. Feeling his throbbing cock press against the palm of my hand.
A throaty grunt comes out of his lips at my touch. He centers himself to push inside of me, but he stops abruptly and murmurs, “Shit.”
“What happened?”
He hangs his head in defeat. “We don’t have condoms.”
I rest my head on his shoulder and groan, but then remember when Sophia bought me a huge box of condoms for my birthday as a joke, and I put them in what I label my messy drawer.
“Bedroom drawer, top left. There’s a box of condoms.”
