Unbreak My Hart (The Notorious Harts 4)

‘You’re sure?’

A small laugh falls from my mouth, splashing between us. ‘Do I look sure?’

His grin is lopsided. ‘Hey, it never hurts to ask, right?’

I pull a face. ‘I feel like I’ve made myself perfectly clear.’

‘Yeah?’ He moves closer, his breath brushing my forehead.

‘Yeah.’ I move my hands behind his back, my legs wide, needing him.

‘You want me to fuck you,’ he murmurs unnecessarily, and at my short nod he drives his length into me, hard and fast, no preamble, nothing, just a huge, hard dick that splinters my self-control and my sanity all at once.

‘Oh, my God,’ I groan, contorting a little, arching my back, feeling him so deep inside me, squeezing him hard, holding him where he is. But he’s strong and it’s easy for him to pull back, his almost complete withdrawal a form of torture. Then he’s thrusting into me again and I’m crying out, his name dropping from my mouth without my knowledge. I lift a hand and run it through my hair, surrendering completely to the wildness of this, and of him.

His fingers brush over my clit—so gently I barely feel them at first beneath the heavenly assault of his cock’s possession of my body—but then he moves them harder, faster, so a thousand sensations splinter through me and I’m incapable of a single thought. I feel as though I’m floating amid stars and space, far from this earth and all the pain she bears.

My orgasm catches me completely by surprise. It’s fast. So fast and abrupt, coming upon me out of nowhere, so I jerk up and stare at him then close my eyes as heat spreads through me followed by blinding light and a sense of being out of my body. He’s slowed down, letting me ride this out and feel every single burst of pleasure within my body.

But, just as my breathing slows, he pulls out of me completely, stepping out of pants I didn’t realise he was still wearing.

‘Hop down.’ His voice is thick with his own desire—or is it his monumental control?

I do as he says because his authority is a complete turn on, and I blink up at him, waiting to see what he says now. In response, he spins a finger in the air, gesturing for me to turn around. My heart lifts up a notch, blood slamming through my veins, but I do it, turning so I’m facing the view beyond the windows, the table at my hips. His hands are there a second later, possessing my sides as though he was born to do just that, his fingertips gliding over my flesh.

‘Bend forward.’

I swallow, my throat inexplicably thick-feeling, then fold forward at my hips, propping my elbows on the table.

‘Good.’

Something shivers along my spine. I hold my breath without meaning to, and then he’s nudging my legs apart with his, his hands moving back to my hips at first, holding me where I am. I’m so distracted by his touch, which alternates between feather-light and hard enough to be on the brink of causing pain, but the contrast of those tactile sensations imbues the simple contact with an eroticism that takes my breath away.

I’m so captivated by it that his thrust is unexpected, his cock driving into me from behind, taking me in a new and different way—like this I feel him differently and God, his hands—they run over my body, tormenting my breasts, plucking at my nipples in unison with his possession, so I’m stumbling over the edge of the earth, darkness and light blending together to make a cataclysmic rainbow of brightness.

Again his hands find my clit. I don’t need it. His dick is more than enough. But, with his hand, I am powerless against this, my body completely at his command, my pleasure inevitable.

This time, as I explode with a loud cry, he follows, his body juddering against mine, his breath loud, and I feel every pump of his cock inside me, and that’s a new kind of pleasure and torment. I stay perfectly still, enjoying every sensation as it travels through my body, the obliteration beautiful, the feeling so life-affirming that I smile to myself, my cheeks heated.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, his hands resuming their lazy inquisition of my body, but I do know I’m tempted to stay right where I am, which in and of itself galvanises me into action.

I make a little noise before straightening, disentangling our bodies with true regret—but it’s a regret I don’t show a hint of in my face when I turn towards him, a smile on my lips.

I convey nothing of how tempted I am to ask him to stay the night. Truth be told, I think we could have a lot of fun if given a little more time, but time brings its own problems. Besides, I got what I wanted—what I needed.

Which means one thing.

‘Thanks.’ I lift up and press a kiss to his cheek. ‘That was amazing.’

He arches a brow. ‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘Oh, I do.’ I look around. His pants are just behind him. I bend down and catch them between my fingertips, pressing them towards him.

‘There’s a restroom just down the corridor.’ I nod in that direction. His eyes narrow speculatively, and there’s a pang of something inside me—a temptation to know what he’s thinking. Except I don’t care about that. So I clarify what I mean. ‘If you want to freshen up before you leave.’ I shoot a pointed look towards his dick, and the condom.

His laugh shows disbelief. ‘Just like that?’

My heart shunts an extra beat of blood through me. ‘Just like that.’