Play With Me - Brittany Cournoyer Page 0,8

the breakup played out, and I hated that I had to come back home with my tail tucked between my legs, but my heart wasn’t broken. I was…relieved. My engagement to Jennifer had been a mistake, and the only reason we got so far was because it was expected of us. After dating all through high school, and having a pregnancy scare, it seemed like the logical thing to do.

When her job offered her a lucrative position with a high pay increase, there was no way she could turn it down. So when it was time for her to move, of course I followed her. But the love between us had died long before our breakup. I wasn’t in love with her, and she wasn’t in love with me. And the sex between us seemed more robotic than passionate. A way to scratch an itch that still lingered long after the orgasm had settled and the cum had dried. So when she finally came to me with sad eyes and told me she’d fallen in love with her colleague, I couldn’t be upset. We both deserved better. And I had hopes we could part amicably, but it didn’t happen. She wouldn’t allow it to happen.

She’d wanted me to fight for her, for our relationship, and to beg her to stay with me. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Not when it wasn’t how I felt. I wanted her to be happy, and that wasn’t something I could give her. Not when my heart wasn’t there anymore. So when I remained emotionless about it all and agreed with everything she said, she made my life hell.

All my belongings were packed, I was given notice to leave, and I was taken off our joint bank account with only the tiny bit of savings I’d contributed withdrawn and stuck in an envelope. Since I didn’t want to fight for her, she didn’t show me any grace. And that’s how I found myself back home and in my crummy apartment. But she was happy with her colleague, and I was no longer stuck in a relationship I didn’t want to be in anyway. That’s what mattered, right? That we both finally got what we wanted.

But as I lay in bed, with my flat pillow folded in half to provide some extra cushion, I stopped wondering about my life and how I wound up there in that apartment. I gave up questioning why I allowed Jennifer and I to let things go so far and why I couldn’t be strong enough to tell her I wanted to end things. Instead, in my exhausted state, I allowed my mind to drift and think about hazel eyes, heavily tattooed skin, and the way he made my spine shiver and fire flow through my veins at the briefest of touches.

My entire body ignited, exhaustion be damned, and my dick came to full attention as it tented the thin sheet that covered me. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think about anything that wasn’t sexual: baseball stats, car parts, even going to the dentist. But it was to no avail. The only way to fix my problem was to take care of it, and the only solution was to roll over and grab the bottle of lube from the drawer of my bedside table.

But as my hand worked the soft skin of my rock-hard cock until precum coated my fingers as it leaked from the slit, it wasn’t a sexy woman in a tight dress I was thinking about.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped as I moved my hand faster.

With my legs bent, my heels dug into the mattress as I worked my cock. And as the familiar tingle shot down my spine, my back arched and my balls drew up tightly toward my body until my orgasm rocked through me. My breath came in short bursts and my hand worked faster as I milked my cock. My entire body shook from the exertion as it slammed through me. I’d never came so hard in my life, and my hand, sheet, and chest were all covered in my release.

“Oh fuck,” I said again as I settled back against the bed. Only that time it didn’t come out as a breathy gasp. Instead, it was filled with dread.

Because the image that filled my head to give me the best self-induced orgasm I’d ever experienced wasn’t a woman with pouty lips and luscious curves. Instead, it was heat-filled hazel