Page 144 of Broken Pieces
His fingers grip my hips, bruising tight, dragging me down to meet every filthy thrust. He doesn’t hold back. Not when I’m already unraveling under him.
I dig my heels into the car, trying to brace myself, but it’s no use.
He’s everywhere.
His cock buried inside me.
His body pressing me down until I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except feel.
“You take me so fucking good,” he says, each word rough with strain. “So tight around my cock. Shit, baby, look at you.”
I drag my gaze to his, and the second our eyes meet, something inside me snaps wide open. His eyes are dark and wild, his lips parted like he can’t catch his breath.
I wrap my legs around his waist and lock them there, heels digging into the small of his back to drive him deeper, harder.
“Don’t stop,” I moan, voice broken.
“I wasn’t planning to,” he says, before shifting his rhythm.
It’s rougher. Meaner.
As if he’s lost all control.
My body arches to meet every thrust. I feel every inch of him, every drag and push, every filthy promise etched into the way he fucks me like he can’t help himself.
“Fuck,” he growls against my mouth, lips brushing mine but not kissing. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”
He slams into me harder. Filthier. A savage rhythm that has my body clawing toward release. My nails scrape his back, my head drops forward, lips brushing his jaw as I moan his name.
He shifts the angle, hitting that spot that makes me see stars, and I cry out, clutching at him, lost in it. Every thrust pushes me closer to the edge, every breath I take is laced with him.
“Are you gonna come for me?” he rasps. “Gonna come all over my cock?”
I nod, too far gone to speak, too full of him to care how desperate I sound. My body’s coiled tight, aching, shaking with the need for release.
“Then fucking come,” he growls, snapping his hips once, twice, hard enough to punch the air from my lungs.
And I do.
Hard.
Loud.
My head tips back, a strangled moan tearing from my throat as the orgasm crashes over me, violent and all-consuming. My spine bows, muscles locking tight, fingers clawing at anything as wave after wave drags me under.
It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s a brutal kind of pleasure. Blistering heat licking through my veins, every nerve set alight, every thought burned away until there’s nothing left but the blinding, soul-wrecking high of it.
“Fuck… Zane—” I cry out, voice breaking as my body jerks beneath him, completely undone.
My walls clamp down around his cock, pulsing around him, clenching so hard I catch the twitch of him inside me, sense the way he stutters, fights to hold on.
He groans low in his throat, eyes dark and locked on mine. But he doesn’t let up or stop. He keeps fucking me through it, riding out every tremor that racks my body, chasing the explosion building in his own.
“Shit… Skylar… fucking hell,” he says.
His thrusts turn frantic, deeper, harder, each one rougher than the last as he chases his release. His abs clench, every muscle in his body pulls tight like a wire about to snap.
I feel it in the way he trembles, the way his hips jerk, every movement unhinged, primal.
