Breaking the Habit

by Anne Berkeley

  “It was the only reason.” Nudging my chin up, he pressed his lips to mine. “God, I’m weak, Emily. I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I need to have you. Just fucking’ once.”

  Pressing his body to mine, he deepened the kiss. His hips moved against mine, his hand traveling beneath my coat and finding my breast. He squeezed, brushing his thumb over my nipple. The other hand hitched my leg over his hip, opened me so that he could fit his hand between my thighs. He found my clit through the seam of my jeans and pressed in, massaging it with a long, firm stroke of his finger.

  I had dreamed of this, prayed for it. I had lain in bed at night, wishing he would come to me. I’d fantasized over it, brought myself to peak with the image of him in my mind. I’d rode out the shudders of my orgasm, afflicted over his absence.

  Now, I pictured another.

  I wanted to be what he needed. I wanted to tell him that I’d wait for him, but it was too late. He’d made his choice. He’d rejected me, left me to find solace in the arms of another. He’d known Shane was waiting in the wings, and the fuck if he didn’t nudge me in the man’s direction.

  Summoning all my strength, I let go of Garrison’s shirt and shoved against his chest. “I can’t…I can’t, Garrison. I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

  Conceding, he pulled away, leaned his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. “I’m not sorry. I’d do it again, Em. If Thomas came here tomorrow, I’d do it again. I’d kill the sick fuck without a second thought. That’s why I’m turning myself in.”

  “I have to go. I…have to go. I’m sorry.”

  Rushing out the door, I heard Garrison shout in frustration, followed by the sound of fist throws, and what I assumed was boxes crashing to the floor. I stifled back tears, striding toward my car as fast as my legs would carry me.

  My hands shook as I shoved the key in the ignition and turned. The engine started with a loud whir. The wheels spun out as I backed from the parking spot. I drove a little faster than prudently down the driveway. The house fading from sight, I let myself go. The tears came hard and fast. I fought to catch my breath.

  Only when I slid on a patch of ice did I pull over and shift the car into park. Idling, I pulled my phone from my pocket, not trusting myself to drive. With shaky hands, I dialed the only person I could think of, the one person I could talk to.

  “Yeah,” Shane answered.

  Struggling to fight back the tears, I was afraid to open my mouth lest I send him into a panic.

  “Emelia?”

  Breathe. Gasp. It was all I could manage.

  “Emelia.” Shane’s tone changed, concerned now.

  “I’m…here.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On…thesideoftheroad.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “You need to talk to me, Em. What happened?”

  “Ineedyou.”

  “I’m there. Just tell me where you are.”

  “By Coop’s old place.”

  His voice muffled, he spoke to someone else. A second later he returned. “I’m on my way.”

  “Ok.”

  “Don’t hang up, ok? Stay on the line with me.”

  “I won’t.” More tears fell. Even more sniffling. It didn’t help Shane’s perseverance in the situation. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help myself from crying.

  “Talk to me, Emelia. What the fuck happened?”

  Clearing my throat, my voice came out husky. “I went to Garrison’s to pick up some photo albums for Cooper.”

  “Did he fuckin’ touch you?”

  “No! God, no!” Not in the sense Shane was implying. “He’s going to prison. He killed that guy that was stalking Coop, not her ex, the other one.” I wasn’t sure how versed Shane was on Coop’s past, but I gave him a brief summary of Sweet Talking Ken’s untimely demise, and how Garrison was going to confess murdering the guy. By the time I was finished, the tears were back full force, languishing over my unwitting role in Garrison’s dilemma.

  “It’s not your fault, Emelia.”

  I said nothing, divulging my guilt. We sat in silence, neither knowing what to say. Honestly, nothing Shane could say would ease my conscience. I knew that I was responsible for placing Garrison in a position with which he was uncomfortable, especially after Melanie’s death. He came to the group for help, and I had questioned his good-judgment by placing Cooper under his roof and within his protection.

  “Coming up behind you,” Shane said. The phone went dead. A second later, he stood at my driver’s side door. He tugged the door open with a loud crack and a shower of snow, and pointed to the passenger’s seat. “Scoot over. I’m driving.”

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, climbing over the console. As I settled into the passenger’s seat, Shane slid behind the wheel.

  “Are you all right?”

  No. “Yeah.”

  He looked me in the face, called me a liar with his grimace. “Are you sure you’re all right. He didn’t…”

  My temper flared with his accusation. It took me back to another place and time. “No, I said no. Nothing happened. What’s your problem?”

  “Your lipstick, Emelia, it’s smeared half across your face.”

  Chapter 12

  Despite five years of redress, my anger quickly capitulated to trepidation, and the instinctual need to pacify. I retrieved a napkin from the glove compartment and began rubbing the red blemishes from my face. “He kissed me. That was all. It was just a kiss. I didn’t ask him—”

  “Emelia.”

  “It didn’t mean anything!”

  “Hey!” Grasping my wrist, he cut off my ministrations. “It’s ok if it did. Jesus. It’s ok. What you do is none of my business. I just want to make sure it was with your consent. You’re a fuckin’ mess, Emelia. It’s not hard to jump to conclusions.”

  “I’m sorry.” God, I was fucked up. I’d cracked. I’d finally cracked. Shane must’ve recognized it as well, because he guided my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Chill, just fuckin’ chill.” Pressing his face to the top of my head, his breath pervaded my hair and fanned over my scalp.

  We sat in silence until his scent and the sound of his breathing lulled me into a sedate haze. Once calm, I felt like a total mess. Only, I couldn’t seem to find a fuck to give. I didn’t want to move and disturb the perfection of the moment, the ambient peace after the storm. I wanted to bask in the shelter of his arms a while longer.

  Unfortunately, the closeness engendered more than sedation. Before I could contemplate that any further, I sat up and shoved my hand in my pocket.

  “I came here to give him this.” Extracting the business card nestled inside, I handed it to Shane. He turned it in his hand, and straightened the dog-eared corner. It was for a doctor, a psychiatrist I’d seen on and off. “He came to us for help.” Again, I stifled back a sob, and failed miserably. “It isn’t much, but I didn’t want to leave without doing something.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Shane assured. “I’m sure he’ll get the help he needs—” He stopped himself short, wincing at his own slip.

  “Where he’s going?” I finished for him. “You really are terrible with words.” I pushed my cheeks up in a mockery of a smile. Even then, it was weak. “I suppose he will.”

  Smiling ruefully, Shane took my hand, held it between the two of his. “I’m sorry, Emelia. I know you liked him.”

  “I ended the kiss, Shane. I ended the kiss because I thought of you.” I waited for that to sink in. It took a moment, a long moment, and then relief washed over his face. He let go of my hand, cupped the back of my neck, and pulled me toward him, pausing a breath away.

  I closed the distance.

  Our lips met in a clash, and then parted, hungry, and desperate. Shane was neither gentle, nor gentlemanly. He was raw…primal…starved. He took, and I gave.

  “Fuck, Emelia.” Climbing over the console, he pulled the lever, reclining the seat. Suddenly
his weight was between my thighs. “I’m going to fuck you right here.”

  “Here?” In the car? We weren’t sixteen.

  “You made me wait too long.” Flicking the button of my jeans, he worked the zipper down and slipped his hand inside. My breath came out in a gasp as he plunged his finger into me. Then two. “I’m fresh out of willpower.”

  “Oh, God.” His other hand slid under my shirt and worked at my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. “Shane.” Fuck. I was wet, embarrassingly so.

  “Fuck. Yes. Say it again.”

  What?

  “Say it again,” he demanded, stilling his fingers. Indignant, I rolled my hips, but he withdrew completely, leaving me devoid. “My name! Say it again!”

  “Shane! Ah!” He plunged into me again, stealing my breath away. The other hand pinched my nipple hard. The overstimulation wrought my senses, sent a fresh wave of heat through my groin. I cried out, my back arching off the seat, my thighs hugging his hips.

  Holding my gaze, he slipped his fingers from me and brought them to his mouth. My jaw dropped as he placed them between his lips and suckled my arousal from the tips. “Almost as sweet.”

  “What?”

  Smiling waywardly, he said, “You taste almost as sweet as my name sounds on your lips.” Sliding down to his knees, he tugged my boots from my feet and then began working my pants down my hips. “When you say my name it comes out reverent. Like I’m a fucking god.”

  “If that was a precursor…then you are a god.” Shane awarded me with a licentious grin over my commendations.

  As I kicked my jeans from my ankles, he lowered his zipper and freed himself from his jeans. I had only been with one man, but I’d watched enough porn to know that he was seriously endowed. I raised my eyebrow, seeing it in the flesh.

  “My God,” I said. It was an acclamation and a stake of claim.

  Leaning forward, I cupped his balls in one hand, and his cock in the other. His hips jutted forward, his head falling back. A small bead of cum rose to the head of his cock. I rolled over it with the tip of my thumb and palmed the length of him.

  He was dusted with black hair from his thighs to the happy trail that reached his navel. I wasn’t averse to pubic hair. It was just that most men I had seen over the past five years were depilated and one dimensional. I found him unexpectedly male.

  “You need to stop, Emelia. Now.”

  Reluctantly, I released him and lay back in the seat. “How is it that Tate gets all the fame?”

  “I’m just the drummer.” I didn’t find any resentment in his tone, but my nipples might’ve had much to do with that. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. They were pert and rigid in the draft of the car.

  “You’re not ‘just’ anything, Shane.”

  “You’re just saying that because I’m in your good graces right now,” he teased. “You’ll hate me again tomorrow.” Easing himself over me, he rested his elbows on either side of my head. His hair draped around us like a curtain.

  “I’m sorry.” I pinched a lock of his hair, curled it around my finger. “It wasn’t you. You know that, right?” It was lame and cliché, yet true, the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse.

  “You fell for the farmer,” he pointed out, begrudgingly.

  “He was safe.”

  “You don’t feel safe with me.” This time, he couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice.

  “I’m saying it’s the lifestyle. Being a drummer for a rock band doesn’t actually portray the image of good and wholesome.”

  “Like apple pies on the windowsill?”

  “Shane, stai zitto and fuck me.”

  Shane blinked and then flashed a smile. “Did you hear that? It was like a choir of angels singing.”

  “Somebody. Is. Going. To. Come.” The last thing I needed was an audience while in flagrante delicto. We were in the remote countryside, but Garrison did say he was expecting a lot of traffic.

  “That’s the point,” Shane quipped.

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “If you’re worried about being caught, then you’re not in the proper mindset. Maybe I need to warm you back up.” Lowering his head to my breast, he circled my nipple with his tongue and then pulled it into his mouth. Oh Christ, he was warm and wet. When he rasped it with the edge of his teeth, I could feel my groin contract.

  At the same time, he arched his hips, rubbing the head of his cock between my thighs. Up and down, he tortured me, teasing past my entrance, to my clit, and back down again. Frustrated, I arched my hips up, hoping to guide him in.

  Releasing my nipple, which was pleasantly tender, he smirked. “Greedy for me, Emelia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hold on tight.” Reaching up, I clutched the headrest to the seat, my fingers dimpling the worn upholstery. “Hold onto me, Emelia. I’ve been waiting forever to have your hands on me.”

  Flushing, I rested my hands on his shoulders. I could feel the heat of his body, and his muscles flexing and contracting beneath his skin. It was odd, the most trivial of observations were such a turn on. I suppose BOB and my internet porn were a far cry from the genuine article. They lacked mental substance and reciprocity.

  With a firm thrust of his hips, he entered me. My nails bit into his shoulders. I gasped and moaned, pivoting my hips toward him, as if the fullness of his cock wasn’t enough. Yes, I was greedy. I wanted it. I needed it. I couldn’t breathe without it.

  “More?” he prompted, looking down at me. His jaw was set, eschewing his own need for my pleasure. Lord, Jesus, if he had any idea of what he was doing to me...

  “All of you. I want all of you.”

  He gave, slowly sinking further into me, and then rolled his hips, emphasizing the fullness. It was exquisite. I said a silent prayer of thanks for his restraint. I wanted more. So much more. And I wanted it to last. For. Fucking. Ever.

  Again, he stilled, teasing me with his restraint.

  “Shane!”

  “Fuck, Emelia.” With a hoarse groan, he withdrew and thrust forward again, hard and fucking sweet. I whimpered, fucking whimpered, over the shock of pleasure. I would be bruised in the morning, but at the moment, I didn’t care.

  In ecstasy, I threw my head back, meeting Shane’s thrust with a tilt of my hips. Our bodies clapped together, growing slick with perspiration. Steam fogged the windows, blocking us from the outside world. As if I cared what happened outside the car. I was fully vested in the man above me.

  Sliding his arm beneath my waist, he arched my back, lifting my breasts for him. He took one nipple into his mouth, biting it with the edge of his teeth. I could feel each tug mirror like a lightning bolt in my groin.

  “Christ I can feel you,” Shane panted. “That’s so fuckin’ sexy.” In response, I flexed my muscles, squeezing him inside me. A mischievous grin played at the edge of my lips. Juxtapose, his face drew blank and then scrunched up. “Fuck! Oh, fuck! Goddamn it!” Thrusting hard and deep, he froze, muscles locked. “Don’t do that again. Jesus. Not yet. I haven’t had enough of you.”

  I turned my head, fighting a full-fledged smile.

  “Is that funny?”

  “No,” I said quickly. The smile sneaked through, despite my efforts. I chuckled throatily. “I’m not laughing at you. I swear.”

  Shane frowned petulantly. Lowering his mouth to my breast, he bit my nipple, while he slipped his hand between my thighs. Finding my clit with his fingers, he flicked it lightly, and then stroked it. Again. Flick. Stroke. Bite. Flick. Stroke. Bite. Fuck. Withdrawing almost completely, he entered, drew back, entered, drew back, using only the thick head of his cock to fuck me. The smile faded from my face, which was his point. I was Italian. I knew all about paybacks, plus some.

  Every time I was on the verge of peaking, he’d stop and withdraw, leaving me bereft and increasingly frustrated. Every time I attempted to prod him into finishing me, he’d thwart me with a hand around my wrist or a palm pressed against my hip. This continued for what felt lik
e an eternity, until I grew querulous and hostile.

  With my hands pinned above my head, he withdrew and entered me again. He did this repeatedly, entering me with unmitigated restraint. He moved so fucking slowly, I thought I would lose my sanity. In. Out. In. Out. A roll of his hips.

  Wrenching my wrists from his grip, I grasped a handful of hair on either side of his head, and pull him toward me. “Fuck me hard, Shane,” I warned, “or it’ll be the last fuck I give.”

  “You’ll feel me tomorrow.”

  “I want to feel you right now!”

  “Hold the fuck on then.” Grasping my hips, he thrust forward. Closing my eyes, I cried out, pleasure mingling with pain. My fingers dimpled his skin. “Open your eyes, Emelia. I want you to watch me fuck you.”

  I did. I held his gaze as he increased his pace, driving unmercifully forward. Our hips clapped together, resounding across the cab. His long fingers tightened on my hips. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Impossibly, his force increased.

  I screamed in a manner of a well-trained porn star. I had always thought they were acting, and terribly at that. The way they tossed their heads was bogus and unbelievable. No man was that good. To my utter delight, Shane proved me wrong.

  Yet, it was his oaths that sent me over the edge. His deep, gruff timber sent my body aquiver. He made the word ‘fuck’ sound like a blessing. I thought that was fitting since I was paying my own homage to our Lord in Heaven. Though, I wasn’t sure He appreciated it. Nevertheless, any thoughts of sin were obliterated when I orgasmed. Nails, dimpling Shane’s skin, I came, staring into his eyes.

  “Fuck,” Shane ground out between set teeth. “Fuck! I’m going to come!”

  “Yes!”

  “Inside, Emelia, I want to come inside you.”

  “Please!” Crossing my ankles over his ass, I held him to me, eager to feel his release. No sooner then I got the word out, he came inside me. I could feel every frenetic pulse of his cock, every tremor racking his body. Still, his hips continued to piston, working out the last of his orgasm.