Free BREAK - A Bad Boy Romance by Gabi Moore Page B

and yielding in some places, so taut and firm in others. Drunk, my mouth easily found his, and without really noticing, he had transformed from a shy, nervous boy into someone more forceful, each of his big hands firmly around waist. I relaxed into him, overcome by the distant memory of soap on his skin and the warmth my hands found underneath his shirt. His body felt so lean and tight under my hands; he seemed strong and animal, like the kind of thing you’d find on an ancient Grecian urn in a museum titled “youth.”
    “You remind me of a horse,” I said. He burst out laughing.
    Oh God, oh shit, I’m such an idiot, do I have to be such an idiot all the time?
    “Um, ok? Christy, you’re a fucking weirdo. But I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, smiling cheekily, pulling me firm against his crotch. The ache between my legs was so strong I couldn’t help but instinctively move my hips forward to answer his.
    “Say it again” he said.
    “You’re a horse?”
    He giggled. “No, stupid. What you said before.”
    He said this pleadingly, and so quietly it was though he only wanted the nape of my neck to hear. This time it was easier. I rolled my body against the growing bulge in his jeans, pressing my waist against his chest.
    “I want you to fuck me,” I said again. I seemed to mean it more every time I said it.
    And the words were magic. The instant I uttered them his entire demeanor shifted. With a surprising urgency, he unzipped and dropped his trousers. His cock sprung out at me, hot, silkier to touch than I had imagined. His mouth was again on mine, swallowing any chance of me saying something else idiotic. He was kissing me deeper now, cradling the base of my neck in hands that started to seem so much bigger, so much manlier than they had a moment before, on the couch.
    He stroked his hand down, under my dress and into the cotton of my soon-to-be-gone-forever knickers.
    A single finger hesitated there.
    “You’re so wet,” he said, and before I could respond his fingers were inside me.
    I wanted to scream. The entire room faded away, leaving nothing in the universe besides us standing there, his hot breath against my neck and the feeling of my wet body responding to his fingers. My head was spinning. He stroked gently in, gently out again. His breath was growing more urgent. His cock pressed warmly against my belly, waiting; were all of them that big? How on earth was all of that going to fit in?
    “Say it again” he said, thrusting his fingers deeper still, pinning me hard against his body.
    Something delicious was radiating out from his fingertips, sending shuddering ripples through me. I felt incredibly, almost painfully hot. I leaned further into it, into him.
    “Fuck me” I said, and this time it was me that sounded desperate. Pleading even. I wanted it. In my hazy mind, one thing was clear: I needed his dick, all of it, in me. Now. I squirmed closer to him, asking with my body.
    “What’s that?” he said playfully.
    “Fuck me” I said again, adding, “please” realizing for the first time how truly hungry my body could be for something.
    And he did. Slowly, the head of his cock pressed me open, and as the length of him slid in, I threw my head back with a gasp, overcome with the sheer weight of it, with how limp and yielding my entire body became around him. He plunged slowly in, till the skin of our bellies met. He held me firmly like this for a moment, still, and I swear I could feel his heart beating through his cock, through me. The dull thudding of the music went on below us, my own heartbeat was pounding in my ears, and I felt my whole world swell and grow with each inhale of his, each exhale of mine. He moved slightly inside me, and I felt my pussy respond.
    He was big.
    It stung, but with a pain that grew and fanned gently out into my body, becoming a delicious, syrupy thick sensation of heat and pleasure. He moved again inside me, like something beckoning me to play. I