Page 121 of Broken Lines

“It matters,” he hisses quietly, his eyes piercing into mine. “Because I’m not going to be someone’s ticket stub.”

I swallow, my lips thinning.

“I’m not going to be your collector’s item—”

“I don’t want you because you’re famous, Jackson,” I whisper hotly. “I don’t want you because you’ve sold a bunch of records, or so I can brag to my friends.”

My eyes close, and I shiver when I feel his hand brush a lock of hair from my face.

“All I know, is when I’m with you—whenyoukiss me, or when you touch me—for the first time in my life, I don’t want to throw up. I don’t want to die, or crawl inside myself until it’s over.”

My hand drops between us again, my fingers curling around his throbbing hard cock. He groans, and I tremble as I feel his hands grip my thighs tighter.

“I want…Jackson, Ineedyou to touch me.”

My eyes open, and I shiver as I lose myself in his fierce gaze

“I need you touch me so I can fucking breathe.”

He groans, pulling closer to me, his resistance crumbling in front of my eyes. He brings a hand up, cupping my jaw delicately, but with a power held back behind it I can practically feel.

“You might not like the air you get from me when you do,” he growls thickly against my lips.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

His thumb traces up my thigh, making my breath catch as the movement opens my legs wider.

“I don’t play nice, sweetheart.”

“I’m not looking for nice.”

“I playrough.”

Sinful, dangerous heat pools in my core.

“I’m not made of glass.”

“If you need to stop—”

“And if you need to keep making up excuses for why you can’t just fuck me—oh GOD…”

I cry out, gasping as he grabs my hip and drives his thick, swollen cock into me. The size of him takes my breath away, and the sensation of his sheer size stretching me open curls my toes as my pulse skips. I look down, and I’m stunned when I realize he’s barely inside of me.

“Fuck” I whimper. “Fuck, Jackson—”

“Here’s how this is going to work,” he rasps into my ear, jolting me as I shudder and throb on the edge of the piano, stretched around his cock.

“Foronce, you’re going to shut that mouth of yours.”

There’s a lethal edge to his tone that just…fuck.

It’s not sweet nothings. It’s not gentle affirmations or encouragement.

It’s a decree.

It’s a promise—not that I’m about to have sex for the first time. But I’m about to getfuckedfor the first time.

The illicit, dark edge to his voice should scare me, especially since I’ve never done this before. But it doesn’t. The warning in his words should make me second guess all of this.

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