Free Broken by Megan Hart Page B

hit with me with force and I stumbled and had to steady myself. For one moment I’d imagined him reaching for me with such clarity I’d felt his hands on me. Breasts, belly, cunt. I’d felt his kiss on my bare skin, his tongue on my clit.
    “Kiss me.” Adam’s voice was rough. His eyes roamed over my body, touching me in all the places he’d once stroked and licked and nibbled. He looked at the sheer triangle between my thighs, and his eyes gleamed. He licked his mouth.
    Always, in our life before, Adam knew what he wanted and how to get it, was never afraid to ask for things I’d have been unable to voice aloud. Adam had liked dirty talk, bedroom games, adventure, all things in which I’d been content to follow but never lead.
    I kissed him. Our breath mingled. He stroked my tongue with his, making me gasp. I wanted his hands on me but had to be content with putting mine on him. His shoulder blades jutted forth and I moved my hands to cup his biceps, so still.
    Our faces so close, I could almost forget the rest of him had changed. I could pretend it was like the past, when he could lift me with one arm to toss me, laughing, onto our bed where he’d cover me with his body and pull orgasms out of me like pearls on a string, one after the other.
    “I want you so much,” Adam said.
    “You have me.”
    Something flickered in his dark blue eyes, and I wondered if he was thinking about the man who’d propositioned me in the store. “Touch yourself for me?”
    I had to swallow hard at that request. Masturbation was such a private thing, a solo pleasure. For me, a necessity. Release. It kept me faithful, at least in body.
    “Sadie? Will you?”
    I nodded and stepped back. My hands went up to cup my breasts. Adam’s gaze went there, avid. Bright color had flushed his cheeks. I let my thumbs rub across my nipples, making them hard again.
    “I love your breasts.”
    This was how it had to be, with us. He would make love to me with his words while I acted out his commands, bringing myself the pleasure he couldn’t.
    “Take them out of the nightgown.”
    I did, easily enough, for it was made for easy access. I licked my fingertips and pinched my nipples, wetting them. Adam groaned. I did it again, until they glistened and darkened with arousal.
    “Yeah, just like that. Stroke them. I love to lick your tits, just like that.”
    My breath caught at his words. He used to whisper them to me before taking my nipple between his lips and suckling. The memory made my nipples throb, and I rolled them with my fingers until I had to moan, myself.
    “I want to taste you, Sadie. Let me see your pussy.”
    I sat in the chair, my legs spread so wide the panties could no longer cover me. I pushed the scrap of lace to the side, showing him my clit, my cunt, my thighs. His words became his hands and tongue, my hands his cock.
    He told me how he wanted to lick me, to suck my clit between his lips and eat me until I screamed. I groaned, spreading myself open to his sight. I licked my fingers and circled my clit, rubbing fast until my hips jerked upward. I pushed a finger inside me, then another, feeling my wetness. The heat. I closed my eyes and lost myself in Adam’s voice, in the story he wove of our passion.
    “You’re so tight and hot,” he told me, and he was right.
    My cunt closed around my fingers. My hips lifted again. I withdrew and used my slickness on my clit, making the motions smooth. I found a pace I liked, mimicking the way he’d have used his tongue.
    “You’re so beautiful,” he told me, over and over, until I wanted to scream at him to shut up. To stop talking and fuck me. To come with me so hard there would be no breath for speeches.
    I came, but alone, and at the last minute it wasn’t Adam’s face I saw between my legs, but Joe’s. I cried out, the noise of passion not so different from despair, and was ashamed the pleasure ripping through me was made no less because of my guilt.
    I kissed him when I could