Free BREAK - A Bad Boy Romance by Gabi Moore

makes eye contact with me, a deep, knowing glance erupts on his face. He smiles a small, private smile. I return one of my own. The music is good tonight, very good, and I let my head fall back a little as I enjoy it, enjoying also the summer air on my half-naked body, and the cold, wet crystal glass against my fingertips, of the near-bursting perfection of this moment, seemingly held in suspension all around me. The yacht is far from the shore now, floating in inky blackness, only the lapping of water reminding us that we’re still technically on planet earth. A familiar cry breaks me out of my daydreaming.
    The woman in front of me is being fucked to within an inch of her life.
    Her entire face is flushed red, the color extending far down onto her chest and to her two swollen nipples. She’s writhing like something possessed, as though she’s about to combust into flames at any second.
    “She won’t come until I tell her she can,” says her tormentor to me. He flicks a sweat-damp fringe from his face and pummels into her with more urgency.
    “What do you think – should we let her come?” he says through strained breath, flashing deep, laughing brown eyes in my direction.
    I smile.
    A year ago, I had only seen this man in pixelated images. He had been nothing more than ink on a newspaper for me and now …now he was sweaty and deep in a yelping woman who seemed to be melting before our very eyes.
    “Well…?” he asks again.
    Kai looks beseechingly into my eyes, her hair damp and disheveled and her lovely face contorting with pleasure.
    “No, fuck her a little more” I say, and smile.
    I lock my eyes with hers, savoring that sweet moment, and blow her a little kiss. It’s a bit mean, sure, but I’ll make it up to her later.
     
    - THE END -
     
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ADDITIONAL BOOKS IN THIS ANTHOLOGY
     
     

All The Knickers I’ve lost Over The Years
    - The Memorable Ones
    By Gabi Moore
     
    Exhibit A: Blue and White Cotton
     
    On the day I lost my virginity, I also lost my first pair of knickers.
    A tired baby blue and white number I had had since High School, it wasn’t exactly a vision of sexiness, but I mourned it all the same. It had an obnoxious Snoopy print on the crotch from the days I thought that kind of thing was cute. But I was sadder to see it go, somehow, than I was to be rid of my virginity. My friends spoke about theirs as though virginity was a tangible thing, a precious, squidgy, lace-and-cotton thing that they were holding onto and waiting for that special day to fling it at a guy on a stage, or wrap up in white lace and deliver to some man wearing an obedient smile and a rented tux.
    But me? I just wanted to be done with it already. I wanted to be fucked. I sat in my first year law lectures and zoned out, practicing the words in my mind, trying them on for size. Fuck me I said in my imagination, to an imaginary boyfriend who conveniently had no opinions. I want you to fuck me I would say, which seemed so scandalous on its own that I seldom bothered to flesh out the rest of the fantasy. My idea of sex had been badly pieced together from Cosmo sex articles and my own embellishments on stories I had heard from a handful of friends. In these classroom daydreams, I was a vixen wearing leather, or a Hot Babe in Victoria’s Secret with beach ball boobs and a drum-tight belly.
    But on the day I actually lost my virginity …I was neither of these women. I was wearing my blue and white Snoopy knickers, and a cotton dress, and my hair twirled up in a messy bun. Looking back, I can see how this might not have been the crime I thought it was, but at the time I felt myself to be an awkward mix of hormones and inexperience, and that it must be more or less obvious to every male within a 5-mile radius.
    “Christy, stop all that studying would you? You’re making me look bad.” My friend Tara had blustered into our dorm room, and was furiously putting