Page 42 of Their Broken Legend

It’s wet on my skin, across my panting lips and flushed cheeks. And it keeps coming until he lowers his mouth and drags his tongue along my face.

Then he’s all over me again.

He drives his tongue into my mouth, his hand digging between our writhing bodies, his lips talking against mine, begging, “Kaya, let me feel you. My sexy little scrapper. Let me feel this juicy pussy cling to my fingers.” Tucking his hand down my jeans, along the smooth skin of my stomach to my pussy he finds me as wet as my face.

He pushes his thick thumb inside me, his forefinger and middle locking around my pelvis, the control he wields, flaring warmth up to my neck and ears.

I spread my thighs. He works his thumb around my clit, the perfect pressure to rub the sides and circle the sensitive tip but not bear down on it. He teases. Builds.

Panting into his kiss, I reach down and grip his erection through his jeans, earning myself a groan from his throat.

He stops working me, dragging his wet fingers from within my clenching channel.

One second, I’m pinned beneath him, and the next, I’m yelping, flipped to my knees. He is tugging my jeans and knickers down until they restrict my legs, bunched at my shins.

On all fours, my arse and pussy are exposed to the air, the evidence of it cooling the wet mess he crafted with those wicked fingers. And I’ve never allowed myself to be this vulnerable with a boy before.

“Fuck. Me.This is so fucking lovely. I want so much more of this.”

I brace on both elbows, my shirt riding up my back. My head spins when his hands knead each arse cheek, parting them so his lips can lap at me. It’s a whole new angle. It feels dirty. But I think that’s what he likes—rawness. No bars held. No places unexplored or tasted.

Moaning into the sheets, I squeeze them on either side of my head. My hair is a blanket of dark caramel around my back, down my spine, and curtaining my face. Then Xander leans back on his heels, and the moment I knew was coming does. He starts to unbutton his jeans.

I groan at my forthcoming outburst, spitting out, “I’m a virgin, Xander!”

He stops. “What?”

Horrified, I wriggle on my stomach to pull my jeans over my backside and then flop back face first, burying my admission into the sheets. “I’m a virgin,” I say, my words muffled. “You know that, right? That I’m a virgin. That’s what I meant when I said I don’t let boys come. I don’t let them do anything except please me, don’t let them fuck me, not even a little, not ever.”

I make myself stop talking, gasp, and then hold my breath to his silent contemplation.

God... Say something.

His knuckles suddenly slide down the sheer fabric over my spine, the tiny hairs on my skin rising in their gentle wake. I roll within the cage of his kneeling legs and brave his eyes through my lashes.

His legs are on either side of my hips, his body hovering over my thighs. I wish I could disappear into the mattress beneath me, but I’m braving Xander’s intense gaze instead.

There’s deep consideration etched on his brows as he says, “I’m sorry. What I said about all the guys you’ve been with, and, ah,fuck—” He thrusts his hand through his dark hair, gripping his neck for a moment, his bicep round and defined, bracketing his face. “I just spat in your mouth! I don’t usually hook up with inexperienced chicks, Kaya.”

Don’t look at me like that!

Dropping his hand to my torso, he straightens my shirt for me, stroking it smoothly down my belly, a pained expression rolling over him. “I thought maybe some dickhead did you wrong once, but I didn’t think for a second that you’ve never had sex. Not for a while, sure, but not— Not at all.”

“Nope.” I shrug, needing him to stop talking; not a fan of the way he’s softening and coddling.Ugh.“No penile penetration. I’m still me, though. This is my choice. I own my body and my sexuality. I’m not a blushing flower or frigid or coy—"

“This isn’t good.”

I tense. “Why?”

His jaw pulses. “Because I knew this would happen.”

“What would happen?”

“I’d want to keep you.”

My heart sings, but I clench my jaw on the dreamy notion. I’m not a romantic. “Keep me?”

“I can’t have something to myself, not all to myself, I won’t be able to share…” He falters, his eyes rolling over my face, then down the length of my body with longing that steals my breath. “I can’t share.” His stare snaps back to mine. “No chick has ever been mine, so it’s never been a problem.”

---