Broken Play, page 22
I know what I’m doing, provoking the beast. We’re at a precipice here. We either get past this now, or we never will. I’m done playing the game by Drew’s rules, the ones that give him all the power and me all the pain. I will not spare his feelings and I’m not above poking his jealousy to get what I want.
Three steps and he’s taking up all my personal space. His hands on my hips, fingers tangling in the thin straps of my panties.
“Do you think it’s a good idea to piss me off?”
“You had a chance to shut me up. You didn’t take it.” I shrug and give him an unimpressed look.
He yanks his hands and my brand-new pretty underwear flutters to the floor in scraps.
“Stay,” he grits out as he walks around me to shut the drapes. He does it ridiculously slowly and I know it’s a test to see if I’ll do as he says.
“New Orleans has done you good, June,” he tells me as he palms my ass from behind. “You’ve been eating better. Your curves have filled back out.” One hand travels upward along my side until it cups my heavy breast. “I want to relearn them all. With my tongue. But first, you’re going to pay for that smart fucking mouth of yours. Bend over and grab your ankles.”
His hands guide my body down until I’m doing exactly as he says, my wet locks dangling down to brush the hardwood floors.
“Wider,” he barks, grabbing my hips to steady me, and he uses his foot to widen the area between my feet.
Without warning, he delivers one quick slap just to the underside of my ass cheek. My body jerks with the force, but Drew’s hands are there to stabilize me. His palm rubs the spot that stings, a few slow circles, then it comes down again. And again.
“Anders doesn’t get this ass, June. It’s mine. It’s always been mine,” he mumbles as he rubs the spot again with one hand. The other hand, the one that’s been resting on the small of my back, drags downward through the crease of my ass and further. He dips it into the heat there. “This is mine, too. It’s wet for me, not him. Say it.”
I moan, but no distinguishable words come out.
“Say it.” Smack.
“It’s for you,” I say between gasps.
Drew presses a kiss on the spot he’s swatted, then another before dragging his tongue to where his fingers are. The sensation makes my legs shake. When his tongue dips in to taste me and he groans, I move my hands to the floor in front of me to brace myself.
His hands spread my cheeks farther apart, and he pushes in deeper, faster and faster until he’s making love to me with his tongue. Occasionally, he delivers another light swat until I can hardly catch my breath from panting need.
That’s when he moves to my clit and sucks it in a pulsing staccato that pushes my pleasure to the brink, then crashing over the edge. My arms give as the climax takes over and Drew’s arms wrap around my thighs to hold me tightly as I fall apart in his mouth.
When the waves subside, so does Drew’s touch, only briefly. Then he’s pulling me up into his powerful arms. He studies my face.
“Are you okay? Dizzy?”
“A little, but I’m okay,” I answer.
He kisses me, letting me taste myself on him. I want to climb up his body, get closer. Be closer. I want to be all over him and have him all over me. His hard cock presses against my stomach. My hand, a life of its own, reaches for it. Encircles it, thumbing the slight pre-cum at the tip.
“Stop that,” he says into my mouth.
I don’t stop running my fingers over his length or kissing him. I find I enjoy being disobedient.
Drew nips at my lip and stills my hand with his own. “Stop.”
He moves to the bed, grabs a pillow, and drops it at my feet.
“Down.”
“I’m not a dog, Drew,” I say with a raised brow.
“No, you’re not. You’re a woman who let another man put his hands on you intimately. A woman who purposely provoked your husband's ire. You’re a woman who needs to be put in her place. Which, right now, is on your knees.”
“If I’m all those things, what the fuck are you?”
“The man who will spend the rest of his life regretting not fucking you into submission the first chance I got. Down, now, and open that goddamn mouth.”
I drop to my knees and open wide, sticking my tongue out slightly.
“Good. A little lower. Drop that pretty ass between your feet so that pouty chin of yours is the perfect height to rest my balls on when I shove my cock in your mouth.”
Damn.
I blush, but his words make me wetter, needier. I want him to do what he is talking about, but I’m not done being impish.
“You should have told me sooner. I would’ve been juggling your balls with my tongue for the last decade.” I drop my ass down, lean forward, and open wide.
“Fucking minx,” he mutters when he thrusts ahead into my mouth. “I know what you’re doing. I’m going to fuck that sass right out of you.”
Drew’s fingers tangle into my hair, one above each of my ears, positioning me just so. He works himself in a little further with each forward motion. All the while rambling about my attitude, about how fucking good my mouth feels. Interspersed with his ranting are instructions for me to flatten my tongue, relax my throat, to look at him if I take too long of a blink.
I’ve already learned that lesson, so I do it, peering up at his muscular body. His chest ripples with every thrust. Nothing about him is relaxed right now. He’s intensely focused on his mission.
Shutting me up with his dick as he fucks my mouth relentlessly.
And though I know I shouldn’t let my mind go to a darker place, I can’t help but wonder if Lorelai talks back to him. Or does she just easily comply? Did, past tense, my heart screams at me. I’d take bets she always does as told. That she’s easy. Probably hoping if she gives him whatever he wants, without question, he’ll keep coming back to her. She might have been right.
But fuck that.
Moving my hands from my thighs to his and pressing them around, I leverage my mouth off his cock. He’s looking at me in question and I use the time to catch my breath, swallow hard. Keeping eye contact with Drew, I lick one palm, then suck my fingers into my mouth, getting them nice and wet before using them to hold his shaft.
Then I do what I teased, sucking his scrotum into my mouth while I keep working him with my hand. Drew rises onto his toes, giving me better access. Another groan escapes him. I’m not even sure he’s aware of it.
“How are you so damn good?”
I smile as I trail my tongue around and then up, up, up to the head of his cock. I press a small kiss atop it, then a small suckle, then a small, playful nip. He draws back and shoves two fingers into my mouth, holding them there as his eyes flare.
“As much as I want you choking on my cum, I need in that cunt, Junie. Up.” He holds his other hand out to help me, still holding fingers in my mouth. Presumably, so I can’t talk back.
I circle my tongue around them as I stand. When I’m at full height, he removes them only to thrust them into the wetness between my thighs. He pushes them in a few times, then sticks them back in my mouth.
“Mmm,” I sound around them before he pulls them out. All while I reach back to undo my bra and pull it off my body. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”
Swiftly, I’m in his arms as he carries me to the bed and drops me unceremoniously onto it.
“Flip over.”
I scramble onto my hands and knees. Before I’m even settled there, he’s swatting me again. Light, but it still stings and makes me squirm.
A hand settles on my head and he pets me a few times, then winds the length in his fist.
“Brace yourself, baby.”
Suddenly, he’s everywhere. Pushing inside me, leaning over me, a hand on one breast as it tugs at my nipple, not so gently. Drew’s so much bigger than me that he’s nearly engulfing me, skin on skin everywhere. It’s intoxicating.
He’s moving inside me fast and hard. This isn’t lovemaking. It’s not even fucking. It’s animalistic, raw, instinctive breeding. There is no thought, only feeling. Pure physical need to mate, to rut. He thrusts. I arch, pushing back at him with all the strength I have. Admittedly, it’s draining fast.
My rhythm stutters, and he releases my hair to slap his palm on the burning flesh of my ass.
“Fuck, yes,” I gasp.
“You like it? Tell me.”
“I fucking love it,” I say. “Your fat cock filling me up. I’ve missed it. I need it, Drew!”
“On your back,” he snaps as he pulls all the way out of me.
I roll over and Drew drags me to the edge of the bed, pulling my legs straight up, my ankles resting on his shoulders as he stands.
“Those eyes never leave mine, you understand? I watch you shatter, and you watch me.”
I nod in agreement, but as soon as he thrusts in, I blink long at the unfamiliar sensation the position brings.
“Eyes!”
I give them to him.
“It’s me inside you, June. Me. Not him. This isn’t one of your dreams, your fantasies. It’s me,” he chants as he pounds into me. Long, powerful strokes. It feels amazing. My body is ecstatic, but his mouth inflames my bitterness.
“Who is it you see? Who are you fucking, Drew?” I sneer. “Me? Her? Or some other nameless bitch?”
His fingers shove back into my mouth, thrusting in time with his cock. Faster and faster.
“You. I told you. It’s always you. It’s your perfect face I see, those beautiful eyes staring back at me. That love you’ve always rained down on me, even though I never deserved any of it. It’s your heavy tits bouncing in my face, your tight pussy choking my cock. Your heart beating in my ears,” he says breathlessly. Sweat rolls down from his brow. “Yours is the only voice that calls my name, that screams in pleasure as you explode around me. It’s always fucking you.”
Now it’s him missing a beat as his body reaches its limit. I’m following closely behind with the swirl of his words in the air, the sight of his abdomen rippling uncontrollably, and the swelling of his already enormous shaft deep inside me.
And with the anger everything he says still brings out in me.
I clamp my teeth down on his fingers and break apart into a million shards of glass. My hands curl into the bedding and my legs tighten around his neck as my body convulses around him and brings him along for the ride.
He shouts my name, mine—not hers—as he fills me.
We’re in the shower a short time later and I’m not even sure how we got here through the daze of sexual bliss. Drew lathers shampoo into my hair while he presses soft kisses all over my face. Everything has blurred edges as the water runs over my eyes. I keep them open. I don’t want to miss the emotion playing over his facial features.
He gently tips my head back into the stream, rinsing out all the suds. Still, I don’t look away. I trust him to keep it from my eyes.
He’s good at that, after all.
“Say something,” he whispers as he starts to massage conditioner onto my scalp.
“You still held back. Why?”
Pain bursts in his eyes, but he doesn’t look away, either.
“It was your first time. Besides, if you saw your ass right now, you might not be saying that.”
I push my fingers into my buttocks, feeling the soreness. Tomorrow won’t be comfortable.
“I like that,” I say with a small smile. “I liked it all.”
“Nothing scared you?”
“No. It was tame compared to what I’ve imagined, to what I’ve fantasized.” I pump some body wash into my hands and begin cleaning him as he’s doing to me.
“Do you want to tell me about these fantasies?”
“Do you want to hear about them?” I counter.
“Fillmore told me I should focus more on what you want sexually. To find out where our desires meet and where they diverge. I think she’s right.” His thumbs massage the underside of my breasts, not cleaning me anymore, just touching. Like he always used to do. I’ve missed that the most.
“You’ve been talking to her about a lot of things, haven’t you?”
“I told you I’d put the work in. I am.” He nods. “Tell me what you dream about.”
“Okay, but you can’t get mad.”
“Can’t I?” he asks, standing taller. A move to intimidate. He forgets I’m feeling mischievous tonight.
“I dream of being tied up, tied down. Held down. Dominated. While you fuck me,” I say, standing up on my tippy toes so I can get right in his face. “And another man shoves his dick in my mouth.”
Drew’s nostrils flare with rage, but I feel the effect my words have on him, evident in his thickening cock pushing against my thigh. He’s hard again, ready for another round of whatever we just finished.
Again, it wasn’t making love. I’d call it something close to a hate fuck, if I were obliged to examine it. I’ll save that for therapy.
“Turn around,” Drew says, deceptively sweet.
I give his chin a small bite before I do as I’m told.
“Hands against the wall,” he directs as he lifts one of my legs to place my foot on the rim of the tub.
When he thrusts inside of me, it’s without warning and so hard I lose my breath.
“Oh, fuck.” I sigh.
He hammers with impressive speed, especially considering his stamina must be drained after round one. He reaches his left hand up to tangle his fingers into mine against the slippery tile of the shower. His other arm snakes through my breasts, his hand clasping my throat.
“That will never happen,” Drew draws out the words, timing them with his thrusting. “Anything you want, Junie. I’ll give you anything and everything. Except another man.”
I hum, arching into him. “That hardly seems fair.”
“Fuck fair,” he growls in my ear and tightens the hand on my neck, making it harder to speak.
I don’t relent in my efforts. Drew deserves to be pissed off. He deserves to hear these things. He deserves the regret and guilt he’s bound to feel.
“So, if I want two men, or three, in me at once, I should go to a sex club?”
Drew’s whole body tightens around mine, stealing more breath by both the grip on my throat and the force of his body thrashing into mine. Drew’s thumb rubs back and forth on my scar. I recognize it, but it doesn’t cause distress. His breathing stutters after a handful more thrusts and the touch at my neck moves to my clit. His fingers squeeze mine and his teeth gently pull at the lobe of my ear, pushing me to orgasm.
I cry out hoarsely.
“Fuck, baby, fuck,” he grunts in my ear as he, too, finds release. So easily we’ve been together in that tonight, unlike ever before, in sync. One.
If only we’d always been.
The water cools, and I shiver. Drew reaches to shut it off, then grabs a towel from the hook just outside the shower door and wraps me in it. He doesn’t bother drying himself, just lifts me into his arms and takes me to my bed.
He doesn’t say a word as he pulls back the covers and tucks me in, nor when he walks around to the other side and crawls in himself. Ignoring the fact that I never agreed to sleeping in the same bed, he pulls me onto his damp chest.
“There will be no two other men,” he says as he nuzzles into my hair. That’s going to be a tangled mess in the morning.
“Maybe you should decide that after you talk to Fillmore again and figure out why the idea of it turned you on so much.”
“Go to fucking sleep,” he growls.
And sleep I do, with a wicked smile on my face.
20
DREW
I wake up alone the following morning. That’s not unusual after the season ends. I have a few more hours to spare now. The first few days are always slightly lazier mornings. The suit I wore yesterday is thrown haphazardly upon a chair, but the shirt is missing, and June’s silky robe is still there.
Such a small detail, but the idea that she’d rather be wrapped up in my shirt than her own clothing feels like a monumental step.
June is plating food when I find her in the kitchen. That’s… new. I’m about to ask her about it when my phone dings from where it’s charging on the counter.
Lore: This isn’t fair.
I sigh, as another one pops up.
Lore: You know what I’ve been through. Please.
I ignore them, as I’ve been doing for weeks now, and turn my focus back on June.
“What are you doing?”
“I made breakfast.” She shrugs, handing me a plate.
“This looks edible.”
“I learned a few things living alone.”
“How many eggs did you char before you figured it out?”
“Quite a few, asshole.”
I laugh but thank her and kiss the tip of her nose before sitting down at the breakfast bar to eat. She pushes salt, pepper, and my favorite creole seasoning over to me.
“I still haven’t perfected that part… so they’re bland.”
“You did good,” I say after I take a bite, and she visibly preens at my validation.
It makes my cock thicken, but that’s not in my plans for today, so I tamp that shit down.
“Have you looked at the house yet?” I ask.
I mean the house in the Garden District. She told me she hadn’t gone in, but never told me why. I never asked. Until now. Figured she’d tell me when she was ready, but my patience only stretches so far. I want to know that she loves it as much as I imagined she would.
What I want to know is if it’s the house she can see us grow old in. Because I can see it. I do see it.
“No.”
“Do you want to talk about why?”
Another text alert dings. I reach over and open the messages but quickly swipe them away.
“No. I’d like to talk about that,” she answers, nodding toward my phone. There’s a tension around her eyes that I know is my fault. I’ll do anything to make it go away.
