Free Shatter (Club Grit Trilogy) by Brooke Jaxsen Page A

figure or to the heavens, but to me, to the ground of the bed, to something real, to something he could actually hold and hold he did, pulling me into his embrace, before pulling up to look over me again, tracing a line from my bra strap and around the top of the cup to the bow that marked the middle of the black lace and nude satin set that I’d picked out just for tonight.
    “You look gorgeous, Kim. I almost don’t want to take it off,” he said, and it wasn’t teasing, it was genuine.
    “You don’t have to,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I like you a lot, Lawrence, and you don’t have to have sex with me to prove it.”
    He looked at me, surprised, and smiled. “Of course I want to, Kim. And you?”
    “Of course,” I answered, but he pulled himself down on the bed, reached up with two hands and shimmied my matching panties down. I wiggled to help him get them off, and he tossed them aside gently, before pulling up, wrapping one arm around my waist, the other, around my hips, each hand touching the opposite arm’s forearm around the small of my back, and he gave me the kind of kiss I wouldn’t expect a man like him would give, the most intimate of kinds.
    “Damn, Kim, you’re so wet,” he said for a split second before he pressed his lips against the cleft between my legs again, sucking and licking as if he was French kissing my mouth, a mouth that was left open in sheer ecstasy, unable to produce coherent words. He pulled himself up, pressing into me further, and then pushed himself back down, using his arms so that his neck wouldn’t tire. I’d be lying if there wasn’t something ridiculously hot about knowing that I was a billionaire’s favorite treat of the night, that instead of having to suck some guy’s dick, I got to have Lawrence’s mouth blending with my pussy, two soft surfaces becoming one, two openings meeting for split seconds and then moving away, over and over like the waves of the ocean against a beach, like water breaking earth down, into beaches, into canyons, the way he was breaking me. I wasn’t used to being out of control, having somebody who controlled my pleasure so adeptly, and who cared about me feeling good more than they cared about busting a nut, but Lawrence wasn’t what I was used to, he was something else entirely.
    “Oh, Lawrence,” I said, my voice raising an octave as he played me like a fiddle. “This is so amazing.” He didn’t quit but kept sucking at my clit and pressing into me with three of his slim but firm fingers, over and over, before switching, so he could press hard on my clit while applying suction to my entrance, an entrance that would taking anything that Lawrence wanted to give it, like a secret treasury thought to be long lost beneath waves of sorrow and regret. He had uncovered the Atlantis of my pleasure, the hidden temples still able to take a worshipper, just one more, just Lawrence.
    “I told you I could rock your world, didn’t I?” he asked and I just answered with a low purr, but then he asked again, “Didn’t I?”
    “Y-yes,” I stuttered as he kept thrusting his fingers in and out of me but I needed something more: I needed him, inside of me, and not the way he currently was, but the way that he was supposed to be, that he should be...the way that he and I knew would come next, once he stopped teasing me.
    The waves of pleasure warped my body the way that the sea foam leaves its curved prints on the beach, even on the palest grains of sand in the most languid of moonlit nights. I had never thought I could feel what he’d made me feel, but the oceans of my body turned from some frigid, arctic ocean, a no man’s land, into the warm tropical seas, ready to be played in by anyone who could access it. I felt my body burn and warm as I involuntarily found myself tightening around his fingers, not wanting them to slide out, but knowing what was next.
    “Are you ready for me, Kim?” he whispered, pulling his fingers