Free Walking Heartbreak by Sunniva Dee Page A

I shut my eyes. Block out memories, the past, and my grey future. I let myself experience this moment only, knowing deep down I deserve it. And it is—
    Good!
    I don’t see him undress the rest of me. I don’t see him peel off his own clothes. All I know is that not for a moment does he deprive me of his touch. A strong knee widening my posture on the mattress. His nose tickling hot air against me. Fingers caress and stroke, and when he needs both hands, his mouth is there, making me sigh.
    “Hot damn,” he husks as he blankets me, warm, scented with man and cologne, and I’d forgotten how soft skin is when it slides over mine. I curl my arms around his neck. Dip into the heat at his nape and inhale him.
    I shouldn’t feel this good.
    I push the thought away, knowing we’re here to savor. Bo presses a palm down past my hipbone, toward the center of my stomach and holds still, pushing in gently. I feel his eyes burning on me while he soaks in the whimper he extracts from me.
    I’m already climbing. It’s so hot between my legs, it’s difficult to think straight.
    That’s when he begins to lap at me. First, he tastes my boobs, then he trails down my stomach until he finds me— me— and makes out with my—
    I yelp. Stars prick behind my eyelids. I’m swollen there, ready, so made for this with him. He suckles on me, murmuring out his hunger.
    “You are so delicious,” he tells me, and when two fingers slide inside me and he twists my warmest nub between his teeth, I hold my breath so I don’t squeal out my release.
    My legs start shaking.
    I fly. I fly so high.
    After, I see the way Bo looks at me. His eyes are awed. How can his eyes be awed? We’re not married. Bo doesn’t love me. We don’t even know each other.
    “That was gorgeous,” he whispers. Gaze still fixed on me, he sits up on his knee and fumbles with something. It’s a condom.
    I bite my lip, anxious. Wriggle uncomfortably beneath him. I want to get up and run off, but…
    I also need him really deep.
    He obeys my last wish, sinking quietly over me and spreading my knees with his. Panic rises in me because—
    What about Jude?
    “Are you okay?” Bo breathes against my ear. Hard at the apex of my thighs, he glides in my sudden slickness. It feels so amazing, I can’t stop my hips from helping him. The perfection of the moment flashes through my brain. What I do might not be right, but it is good.
    “I am,” I say on a small pant, the word coinciding with a new sting of lust at the bottom of my belly. The anticipation, the dread and desire, they’re slowly destroying me. He needs to do this, or I’ll morph into something else. Yes, right now I am orange and flammable, but I can shrivel into grey remorse in seconds.
    Bo understands.
    Bo stops moving.
    Bo presses against me with pleasure-soothing hardness, and when he insists, my body cleaves open, accepting his entry.
    He’s wide, unyielding even when the impulse to flee tenses my body. I make a noise that sounds like a croak, but it doesn’t scare him off. He continues, pressing slowly into me, and then his breath hitches.
    “You’re tight,” he sighs out. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you. Tell me if I do.” He fills me completely, my walls stretching to accommodate him. I can’t really speak, because I’m bursting with the moment.
    Sinking closer, he envelops me in his arms, his breath uneven against my neck while he waits for me to be comfortable. Only I am comfortable. So very, very comfortable. Timidly, I tilt my pelvis, a quiet encouragement.
    My fingers dig into his shoulders, begging, and again he understands. We move. We both do, a synchronized, quiet dance, a wave of two bodies joined.
    He feels better than anything has in so long. Every inch of my skin reacts to him as he claims me—carries me with him to this place where the good outshines the bad. Where guilt doesn’t exist and misery has no place.
    Bo doesn’t stop until it’s too much, and I subdue a scream