Break Me (Brayshaw High) - Meagan Brandy Page 0,105

darkness.”

A faint smile falls over him and he faces the sky again.

Mere minutes pass, and he’s already falling asleep... his hand in mine.

It’s times like this, when the lights go out or when he thinks no one can see, that his heart opens.

At the end of the day, he’s just a lonely boy who doesn’t understand how he can have so much, brothers and more who love him, who are there for him when and if ever he needs, no matter what, yet still, at night, after dark, he aches.

Like a lonely boy.

Like a lost boy.

I could take away that pain, if he’d allow it.

After all, lonely recognizes lonely.

I’m not sure how much later it is when I wake up cold, but before I can lean over and grab a blanket, one falls over me, and then a large, strong and warm body presses into mine.

Royce’s arm wraps around me, holding me there, so I scoot back more, tucking myself farther into him and when I do, I feel his need pressing against my ass cheeks.

He’s hard, and large and while my body shivers, I’m no longer cold.

I’m hot all over.

Pulling in a deep breath, I push into him more, and his face buries into my neck in an instant.

“You don’t want to do that, baby girl.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

He chuckles, but then I do it again, and that chuckle becomes a low groan.

His hand flattens on my stomach. “I’m not as strong as you seem to think I am.”

“You’re stronger than you know, but you don’t need to be right now.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “Careful.”

“I’m tired of being careful. I want to be—”

“Bad.” He kisses my jaw. “Naughty.” Another kiss. “Dirty?”

“Free. Valued.” My breathing is picking up now. “I want to know what it feels like to be wanted.” No, wait, that’s not right... “I want you to show me what that feels like.”

“If I touch you, I might get addicted.”

Please get addicted.

His shoulder tenses and then shakes in silent laughter.

I roll my ass into him again and a sharp hiss heats my ear. It serves as a lightning bolt, sending a shock wave down my spine.

Royce’s hand dips lower. Completely flat against my stomach, he glides over the V of my jeans while biting at my earlobe.

A low moan escapes, but I bury it in the blanket.

“Listen to me, Tink.” He kisses directly over my heavy beating pulse there. “I need to know every fucking thing you like and dislike. What’s good and what’s better. You think something in your head, let it out.” I feel his smirk against my skin. “Not that you’re real good at hiding your thoughts.”

I grin. “Got it. Royce?”

“Hm?”

“Touch me,” I demand instantly. “And not over my jeans.”

The button on my pants is popped with zero hesitancy, but his fingertips, they pause at the edge of my underwear. His strong chest inflates at my back and then he slips inside.

The heat of his hand alone, the roughness of his skin, has my muscles curling.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispers into the night. “You really never been touched?”

“Do my hands count?”

He groans.

“Not even a little bit,” he rasps as two fingers slide lower, slipping between my slit and gliding along my clit. I jerk, and his heady exhale follows. “You touch yourself since you been here?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a yes.” He scrapes his teeth over my earlobe. “And you thought of me, didn’t you? When you fucked yourself?”

My “yes” is a low moan and he responds with a bite.

“And before me?” His lips brushing over the edge of my exposed shoulder. “Who would you think about?”

I close my eyes, waiting for more. “Just the feeling.”

He flexes against me, his hold tightening. “Good fuckin’ answer, baby girl, now hook your left leg over mine.”

I do as he says, and the idea of this position has my toes curling.

“I thought of you, too,” he admits. “When my cock was in my hands, swollen and fuckin’ aching.” He pushes against me. “I played your addictive-ass voice in my head, imagined your naked little body lying under mine, your pussy...” He slips the tip of his finger inside, and his muscles grow tight. “Fuck,” he rumbles. “Sucking me in.” I clench around him, and he whispers, “Just like that.”

I grip his forearm when he pulls, my back arching, and he’s done with the lead-up.

Two of his long, strong fingers push inside me.

The pressure and the scent of him, the heat of his breath on my skin, it’s enough to make me