Our Broken Pieces - M.E. Clayton Page 0,54

fact I was ruined for anyone cursed enough to come into my life in the future.

“Harder,” I begged, giving myself over to the uncontrollable pleasure.

“Hang on, baby. This is going to hurt.”

And it did.

I was painfully aware that Gage has grown in more ways than one since we were kids. Gage slammed into my body, bottoming out each time, tearing at me and loving me at the same time. The screams became so loud, Gage had to shove my face into the pillows to keep the police from knocking on my door, and still he didn’t let up.

We didn’t let up.

Even after he roared out his orgasm and came inside me, he hadn’t stopped. His dick had deflated, but his mouth and fingers worked just fine. The night ended up being too long, too painful, and too exhausting.

By the time he called it quits, my body had been used and degraded in ways that more than made up for the ten-year absence. There wasn’t a spot on my body that hadn’t been marked by his cum, his hands, his teeth, or our mutual disregard for blood shed.

I ended up a mess.

But, then, so did he.

Chapter 30

Gage~

I was pacing my office like a caged lion, salivating at the mouth to escape.

Last night had been everything the past ten fucking years should have been. After Mystic had explained her concern for safety, I had made it clear to her that I’ve never fucked a woman without a condom-save her-ever. I had annual wellness checks, and short of not having a soul, I was healthy. And as much as I hated to address it, she had clarified that she had also practiced safe sex in the past. After that, she had no more objections, and nothing had been off limits. Granted, nothing ever was in the first place where we were concerned, but she had been more receptive after the talk.

Mystic had also assured me that she was on birth control, but I hadn’t cared about that. I’d love to knock her the fuck up, so she’d be tied to me forever. At this point, I didn’t care if it was by choice or not. I knew there was no way I was ever going to let Mystic go again.

We’d only slept for a handful of hours, but she had been adamant about kicking me out this morning, so she could go to work. I had begun to argue, but she killed my argument when she pointed out that Lorcan already had a horrible opinion of her, both personal and professional. She didn’t need to give him more of a reason to think she was a horrible person by having to explain that she was calling in sick to work because she had been fucked all night long by his best friend.

She had a point.

She had a point, so I relented, letting her know that we still had a lot more to talk about and I’d be at her house this evening after work. This thing between us was just beginning and a lot of shit was going to reevaluated.

Speaking of…

I walked over to my desk and called one of my project finance managers.

“Hello?” Marlon Daphne was one of my top department managers and he’s been with Stymic a lot of years. I trusted him to do his job and do it well.

“Marlon, I need you to appoint someone to work with Cavanaugh Industries on Lawrence Darwin’s battery project.”

“I thought you had doubts about that picking up that project?”

“I did,” I replied. “I still do. But Cavanaugh Industries was mentioned in the potential architectural phase of the project, so I’m looking into it. I want someone who knows their shit to team up with a representative at CI. Once their project presentation is completed, both SFH and CI will decide whether to move forward or reject the proposal.”

“No problem. Who is the contact at CI?”

The caveman in me wanted to tell him my girlfriend, Mystic Anderson, but I knew I couldn’t. I needed the best we had not to treat her with kid gloves, but as an equal. The Darwin Project could cost me and Lorcan millions if we invested in it and it wasn’t feasible. Both Mystic and whoever Marlon assigned to the project needed to bring their A-game.

So, instead, I went with simply her name. “Mystic Anderson.” However, it felt…wrong to say her name in the same context as I would any random person.

“Mystic Anderson,” he repeated. “Okay, I can see