Beautifully Broken

He tugs on my bottom lip. “You seem to have that effect on me.”

I stroke his length from root to tip. “Condom,” I say breathily.

Gavin reaches into the nightstand drawer and withdraws a packet. “I’m on it.”

“Hurry,” I beg. “I need you inside me.”

He sheathes himself and runs his eyes over my body. I swear I can feel his caress through his gaze. “Not as much as I need inside of you, Red.” He pulls my hips toward him and positions himself against my entrance. “Tell me your name or we’re not doing this again.”

“No fair!” I whine.

He rubs the head of his dick against my slit. “I’m serious, Red. As much as I want this, I want your name more. Your real name.”

I whimper in frustration. “Gavin, please!”

He slides in slowly, making both of us groan in pleasure. Cradling my cheeks with both hands he pleads, “I’m not moving until you tell me. Please.”

I mewl as he rubs his thumb over that little bundle of nerves. With his fingers, he brings me to the edge of a slippery slope as he remains completely still inside of me. The pressure is building so high it borders on pain without the release my body so desperately seeks. I arch my back, trying to encourage him to thrust but he holds true to his word.

Our eyes are locked, brown to bright blue, and I have a terrifying realization. This man is everything I don’t want, yet everything I need. No one looks at me the way he does. He sees the damaged parts of me that I work so hard to conceal. The confusing part is that despite this, he looks at me like that doesn’t matter. He loo

ks at me like he can fix me…like he wants to be the one to make me whole again. Is that even possible anymore? I shake my head in denial.

“C’mon, Red,” he coos. “I promise it’ll be okay. Just give me your name and I’ll make you come so hard you won’t have the energy to regret breaking one of your precious rules.”

He pulls out almost completely when I hesitate. I look down to the spot where our bodies are joined. His thick cock is painted in my wetness; my inner folds are parted to receive him. I feel drugged by the erotic picture we make. There’s no other explanation for what happens next.

“Kat…my name is Kat.”

“Kat,” he repeats. He flashes a blinding smile, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “Are you ready to come now?”

I don’t even have a chance to reply before he sinks into me, instantly causing me to shatter.

I STARTLE AWAKE and it takes me a moment to remember where I am. The rising sun slices through the blinds, affording me a view of the man beside me. Gavin sleeps soundly with his heavy arm thrown over my chest. He looks slightly younger and definitely a lot less jaded. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but he’s even more striking. Flashes of last night run through my brain on repeat. My God, this man knows how to fuck. If I truly am only the fourth woman he’s been with, he must’ve had lots of practice with the other three. I frown when a stab of jealously causes my chest to tighten at the thought.

Graphic images of bodies writhing and moaning assault me; memories of the most profound sexual experience of my life. I sigh dreamily thinking about it. What is going on with me? My life isn’t a damn romance novel! I chalk up my ridiculous behavior to the fact that he’s just so damn gifted sexually. I have a sex hangover, plain and simple. I need to get the hell out of here before he wakes up! I’ve never had to deal with an awkward morning after conversation and I don’t intend to start now. I have no idea what time it is, but the daylight tells me that I’d better move my ass.

I slide out from underneath him and slink quietly down to the floor. I hear Gavin shifting and risk a glance to find him rolling onto his side, still snoozing. I never did find my panties but I couldn’t care less as I duck walk out of the bedroom and down the hall. I quickly pull my dress over my head, shove my feet into my boots, and throw my bra into my purse that’s still sitting on the kitchen table. I take one more glance down the hall as I head to the front door. As I step outside without getting caught, I smile to myself victoriously.

I hoof it the three blocks it takes me to get to my car and think about how this is my first official walk of shame. I’ve never apologized for my actions or have been anything but upfront about what I want from men. Before Gavin, no one has ever questioned my desire to leave immediately after the deed is done. Shit, most guys appreciate it. Before Gavin though, no one has even remotely tempted me to stay. I silently admonish myself for being so stupid. It’s bad enough that we traded names. I know not to trust a stranger well enough to sleep beside them. I couldn’t have been out for more than a couple of hours, but that’s two hours too many. Nothing good ever comes from being that vulnerable. If anyone knows that all too well, I do. And I wouldn’t wish the nightmares I’ve lived through on my worst enemy.

Rose’s parking lot is fairly full when I get there. I ignore the curious gazes of patrons through the windows as I unlock my car and get inside. I back out of my spot without another thought and head home. Today’s home is different than yesterday’s. My latest round of foster parents left a lot to be desired so I packed up my meager belongings and told them I was leaving. The fact that they didn’t even try to talk me out of it should tell you how invested they were. I mostly keep to myself…do my best to fly under the radar, but I’ve learned to speak up for myself when necessary. When my sleazy foster brother, Lucas, their biological son, suggested I provide the entertainment for his drunken house party, in the form of blow jobs, I had enough. I told him to go fuck himself and he in turn, told his parents that the party was my idea. That I was the asshole that took advantage of their weekend away to celebrate their wedding anniversary. That my friends were the ones who puked on the carpet and dumped Grandma Betty’s ashes off the mantel. Of course I tried telling them the truth about their precious son, but they weren’t having it. It’s a lot easier to blame the person you don’t share DNA with, I suppose. It’d be nice if my own mother got that memo one of these days.

I pull into the assigned space of the crappy two-story walk up that Cybil and I have lived in for as long as I can remember. She had her license revoked from too many DUI’s so I’m the lucky one who gets to drive our shared vehicle. Which also means that I’m the one responsible for gas and insurance. Cybil thinks that if you don’t get behind the wheel, you aren’t financially liable. Never mind the fact that I have to run errands or chauffeur her to and from Newport, the next town over, for court appearances.

I take a deep breath as I look at my home sweet home. The white paint on the U-shaped building should have been refreshed at least ten years ago. Now, it’s mostly a dingy gray with some yellow spots here and there. There’s a concrete staircase on each end leading to the second level apartments. The exterior seems to be modeled after a cheap motel but the inside isn’t too bad. Sure, it’s outdated, and the place reeks like cigarettes from years of smoke, but I have my own bedroom which is a luxury when you’re bounced from one foster home to another. More importantly, there’s a heavy-duty lock on the door so I don’t need to worry about any of my mother’s clients mistaking my bedroom door for hers.

I unlock the front door and prepare myself for what I might see. In the past, it’s been something as innocuous as Mom being passed out on the couch fully clothed. More often than not though, there’s someone in some stage of undress or inebriation. Then there was that one time when there were six fully undressed people having a grand ol’ time; so much so, that they didn’t even notice when I walked through the door screaming at my mother for having an orgy in our living room. Just a day in the life of Kat Kennedy.

I sigh in relief as I walk into an empty space. “Cybil?”

I open the fridge and scan the contents for anything edible. Sadly, my choices consist of mustard, cheap beer, or leftover pizza. I lift the lid to the pizza box and quickly regret doing so. Clearly it’s the same one from my last night here over four months ago. Well, now it’s more like a science experiment but you get the point. I mentally add grocery shopping to my list of things to do.

I walk down the short hall and give the handle to my bedroom an experimental tug. I’m surprised to find that it’s still locked after all this time. Usually, if Cybil gets too hard up she’ll break in to see what she can sell. Business must’ve been good in my absence.

I knock on the door to her bedroom. “Cybil? Are you home?”

I hear shuffling behind the door so I know she’s in there. I also hear muted voices so I know she’s not alone. After a moment, she opens the door wearing a short peach robe that doesn’t cover much on her five-foot-ten-inch frame. “Katherine! You’re back!”