Page 143 of Broken Pieces
“Fuck… Sky—”
His rhythm falters and his thrusts become erratic. He’s close. I feel it in the way his cock twitches, the way his abs clench and flex with every movement.
His voice breaks on a groan, hips stuttering.
Suddenly, he pulls out.
I look up at him, breathless, lips swollen, spit trailing down my chin.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls, dragging me to my feet like he can’t fucking stand to be apart for one more second. “I need to have you wrapped around my cock.”
He spins me around and lifts me onto the hood of the car.
His mouth crashes against mine, messy and frantic. His tongue finds mine, claiming me all over again.
He grabs his cock and drags the head along my slick folds before he stills.
“Fuck,” he mutters, forehead dropping to my shoulder. “I don’t have a condom.”
I freeze too, chest heaving, heart pounding. My whole body is strung tight, throbbing, aching for him. I’m soaked, swollen, and fucking empty. All I can think about is him sliding into me, stretching me open. I crave it more than I crave my next breath.
“I’m on birth control,” I whisper, dragging his mouth back to mine. “I swear. I’ve been on it for years.”
His hands grip my thighs harder, holding me wide open.
His cock jerks against my pussy. His mouth brushes mine, teeth catching on my lip.
“Fuck, are you sure?” His voice is thick with restraint. He braces one hand against the hood of the car, the other digging into my thigh. His eyes are wild, chest heaving with each breath.
“I’m clean,” he grits out. “I’ve fucked no one bare before.”
He drags the head of his cock through my slick folds, groaning at the sensation.
I can see the moment it hits him, how fucking wet I am. How ready and hungry.
“Shit, baby,” he mutters. “You’re dripping for me.”
I grip the edge of the car. “Then fuck me.”
He grabs the base of his cock, positions it, and pushes in.
The stretch steals the air from my lungs. He sinks in slowly, cursing under his breath, his fingers gripping my thighs hard enough to leave marks.
“Fuck,” he growls. “So fucking tight.”
I whimper, head falling back. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, every thick inch of him inside me.
He leans forward, forehead pressed to mine.
“You feel so fucking good. I don’t think I’m ever gonna get enough of this.”
Then he moves.
He pulls back enough to drag his cock almost all the way out before driving in hard enough to knock a gasp from my throat.
The car rocks beneath me. My back arches. He does it again. And again. Each thrust brutal and deep, the kind of fucking that leaves marks, that makes you forget your own name.
“Fuck,” he growls. “It’s like you were made for me.”
