Page 44 of Break Me
Twelve
I wakeup in the middle of the night, and tiptoe back to my room, disentangling myself from Mom’s arms. She’s asleep, and I’m not sure where Dad is but I peek outside and see his car back under the carport.
I knock four times, softly, on my own bedroom door.
Seconds later, Benji unlocks and opens it. His face looks grim, like he’s seen a ghost and he’s pissed about it. For a moment, I wonder if I woke him up, but a quick glance at his eyes, and he seems wide awake. Just irritated.
Whatever.
I push past him and he closes and locks the door behind me. I see my pillows rearranged on the bed and smile to myself, knowing he at least tried to sleep.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says unceremoniously, swiping two pillows from the half-dozen of them on my bed.
I laugh. “We’ve already had sex,” I remind him. “It won’t be a crime for you to sleep on my bed.” Besides, I kind of want someone next to me. The tears dried on my face, but my heart is still breaking in two, and I feel like if I think about it too long, I might fall completely apart.
I’m saving that for after Mom goes.
She doesn’t need me blubbering like a baby.
He shrugs. “Okay, but I sleep in my boxers.” He doesn’t even have a smile on his face with those words, whispered in the dark.
“Same,” I say, plugging my phone in to charge. And without looking at him, I face the bed and pull my shirt over my head, and my jeans down. I unhook my bra, and then dive into bed, yanking my covers up to my chin.
He’s staring at me, looking too big for even my big room.
His eyes are hooded, and I see his fists are clenched. My blood seems to ignite with that look, but he’s made it pretty clear he’s only here so I don’t get murdered by some unknown suspect. He was about to go home with the waitress, I remind myself. Or worse, bring the waitress to his condo. Where we had sex.
I force myself to turn over and face the wall and close my eyes. The lights are already off, the only light that from the street lamps leading up to our driveway.
I feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind me. For a second, I think he isn’t going to touch me, and honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’m still thinking about Mom, and about the fact Benji is in my house while Dad is just down the hall, and then there’s Dumont and whoever Benji and Caden seem to think is trying to kill Riley. Because why else would she need an escort right to her classes? She’s probably my age or younger, but Benji and Caden are definitely older. They’d only spend their time following her around if this was serious. Even though, somehow, it doesn’t feel serious with what’s going on with Mom.
Either way…
It’ll be better if Benji doesn’t touch me.
And yet…
When I feel his arms come around me, pulling me against his chest, I feel relief. Relief, and warmth spooling in my core. Especially as I feel him against my back. But even though he’s got a hard-on, he doesn’t say anything or make any move. He just holds me in his arms, as if I’m going to be able to sleep so close to him without touching more of his skin.
Without turning, I trail my hands over his arms around me, hardened muscle beneath smooth skin. I wonder what his tattoos mean, when he got them. I can’t see them very well in the darkness and from the angle of our bodies, but I know they’re there. He still doesn’t speak or move as I reach behind me, my hand over his boxers as I stroke him, softly at first until he presses further against my hand and then I grip him tighter.
A soft groan escapes his lips, against my neck, and his hands come to my waist, his fingers digging into my skin.
“We really don’t have to,” he starts to say, but I reach my hands into his boxers and stroke him, relishing in the stiffness and the size of him, wanting him in me. He stops talking and I’m glad.
He lets me keep going for a minute, but then he yanks my hand away and pushes me over, so I’m lying on my stomach, my hands by my sides. He keeps one hand on my back and then climbs over me, pressing his cock against my ass. He’s still got his boxers on and I’ve still got my underwear, but otherwise, there’s nothing between us.
He fists my hair and leans down, his weight pressing me further into the bed.
“You sure about this, Princess?” he whispers against my ear. “You’re not worried your Daddy might hear you?”
I twist my face to glare at him, but he yanks my hair harder, preventing me from seeing him behind me.
“I’m sure,” I manage to gasp out as he presses against me again.
He lets go of my hair, runs his hand down my bare back, to my underwear. He pulls them down my legs, lifting off of me only to slide them all the way off. When he positions himself back against me, I feel he took off his boxers, too.
He rubs his cock along my bare ass, his fingers running through my hair, one hand on my low back.
