Page 86 of Break for Me

His right eye twitched when his jaw locked into place that time. I went to him to run my fingers through his hair. I tried to pull him down to kiss me but his whole body might as well have been made of stone and I couldn’t force him to move no matter what I tried. I stood up on my toes to put my arms around his neck instead where I could look straight into his eyes.

“Fuck me, Kyle.”

He moved so fast to spin me away from him and bend me over the trunk of the car that I actually screamed while he did it. The grip that he had locked on my shoulder to hold my upper half against the car even hurt. His very solid dick was pressed against my ass a second later, and even after ending up in this position, I felt oddly successful. I hadn’t even had to use the right name to turn him on. He leaned down until his chest was against my back.

“I’m going to give you one chance, Triss. Just one, to say the right name to make up for that shit. And understand this now that if you get it wrong, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never actually come again. We’ll start right here in this parking lot and I don’t fucking care who might see. I’ll edge you until it kills both of us.”

I absolutely should not have been enjoying this so much.

Why was he a fucking psycho?

And why was I loving it that it was about me?

“Say it. Say the right name if you don’t want to have to give me roadhead for the rest of this fucking drive, Triss.”

That really didn’t sound all that bad either, though.

I needed therapy.

He forced my feet apart and his hand was between my legs a second later, roughly dragging his fingers over my clit. Very roughly. His sweats didn’t offer much of a buffer between his hand and my body. When I still hadn’t said anything, he forced his hand between me and the car to get inside his sweats and he wasn’t gentle about getting his fingers into me. I’d never understand what magic his fingers held. How he managed to use them to get me so close so quickly seemed unreasonable. Then he stopped. Just fucking quit moving every piece of his body the second that my legs started to shake.

“You know what I want,” he whispered.

“Please,” I said quickly.

“Please what?”

“Please make me come.”

The growl that came out of him gave me goosebumps.

“Who are you fucking asking, Triss? Who are you begging right now?”

“Jersey.”

He smacked my clit the second the name was out of my mouth, and then he leaned all his weight down on me to push his fingers back inside me.

“My perfect girl.”

My heart stopped beating at those words, but his hand never stopped moving and that was all it took to send me crashing over that ledge. Right there in a fucking gas station parking lot.

* * *

But I wasn’t even remotely prepared to give up on his name, even a few hours later when we were nearly to Memphis.

“So, what sport did you play in high school? Or college? Or whenever?” I asked.

“What?”

“Just tell me. It’ll help narrow down the names.”

“How would a sport tell you my name?”

“It’ll tell me into which category of douchebag you fall. Like Tristans play lacrosse. They don’t play football,” I explained. He was still laughing when he pushed the button on the steering wheel to answer the incoming call from Memphis.

“What’s up, boss lady?” He asked.

The sniffle that came through the speakers of the car turned my blood into ice water.

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