Break Me (Brayshaw High) - Meagan Brandy Page 0,112

breath fans across my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.

“You can turn around right now and I promise you, my feelings won’t be hurt.” I slide my other hand up and case him in fully.

His pulse pounds against my fingers, his brows caving in.

I offer him a small smile and I nod in encouragement. “Turn around, Royce. Take me outside.”

His forehead falls to mine and he pauses. A few seconds pass, and then his eyes pop up, one hand leaving me, the twist of a knob sparking the nerves low in my stomach.

With every step into the room he takes, his muscles ease, his confidence rolling back in and strengthening his grip, his gaze, his being.

Gone are the creases along his face, and in their place is a smooth hint of certainty.

He grips my hips, so I allow my legs to fall from around him, and the second my feet hit the floor, his hands are tugging my soiled shirt over my head. He drops it where we stand and his fingers slide to the button of my shorts, unfastening them.

His hands glide along the waist and he pushes them down.

They fall to my feet, and I don’t hesitate to step out of them.

The pads of his thumbs find the piercings on my hipbones and a low groan leaves him as he floats across the embedded silver, curving around to my ass from there.

He squeezes and a sharp gasp escapes me, my chest falling to his, and my bra’s unhooked a moment later.

His eyes find and hold mine as he dips his head, using his chin to push the straps down my shoulder and moving over to do the same to the other.

The fan above us blows quiet and cool, hitting the wet spot left behind and causing a chill to spread through me.

Royce’s hand sneaks between our bodies, and he tugs my bra from between us, my breasts now naked against his button-up.

He swallows, licking his lips as his fingertips skate along my ribs, hooking into the hem of my underwear. “I take these off, I’m sliding in.”

“I might beat you if you don’t.”

His chuckle is low but cut short when his fist wraps up the thin cotton, stretching it while he works through the last bit of his reserve. And then he tears them, rips the sides, and they fall to the floor in a shredded mess. I’m naked against him.

His mouth falls to mine, kissing and nipping and sucking on my lower lip until, once again, his forehead falls forward. “Lie back on my bed, baby, let me look at you.”

There’s a heavy pull between my legs, and my nipples peak, growing hard and firm for him.

I push onto my toes, tug his head down, and crush my mouth into his. Royce kisses me back with such vigor I can hardly stand it.

He’s so raw and primal. Perfect.

I can’t believe this is me, us. I feel like I’m about to burst and he’s hardly touched me, but there’s something about being naked and in his grasp that has me teetering.

I’m on the edge of addictive insanity, wicked decisions, and life-changing trials.

And I’m ready for it.

If Royce is with me, I’m so ready for it.

I tear away from him, push against his chest to force him a space away, and lower my naked ass onto his comforter. I scoot until my palms reach his pillow and fall onto my back.

I don’t cower or cover.

I lie there, bared to him, body and soul.

But he’s yet to look.

His eyes, they hold mine, and then he stands tall, to his full height and right at the edge of his giant bed.

In a slow, thorough, perusal, his eyes rake over me inch by inch, the muscles in his jaw flexing when they reach my waxed center. Chills run over me, bringing goose bumps to the surface when his tongue slips out to wet the corner of his mouth.

His eyes snap to mine, a raw, rush of possession swimming within them.

“This is my bed, Tink. My room,” he rasps. “You look damn good in it.”

“Want to know how I feel in it?”

He nods, the muscles of his arms flexing.

“Lonely.”

A quick laugh bursts from him and I grin, settling into the pillow more.

“Strip for me.”

His head falls back slightly, his teeth pulling in the plumpest part of his bottom lip. “What will you be doing while I’m doing that?”

“Anything you want.”

He groans, his hand falling to the bulge in his jeans and squeezing,

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