Broken: Boxed Set

by Wilde, Leah

  She groaned into my mouth the second I made contact. I spread her wide open and found her clit. The slow circles I made were enough to keep those groans coming. Good. That was exactly what I wanted.

  I moved my fingertips down a little further and found her opening. Inserting one finger slowly, I felt her expand to take me in. She was already slick with juices and it was easy to slip in one finger all the way to the core of her. I curled it against her inner wall and stroked against the rough patch of her g-spot. She responded by trembling in my arms. Beneath my palm, her throat quivered with pent-up moans.

  I released both hands and shoved her back onto the bed. She barely had a moment to catch her breath before I fell on top of her, catching my weight with one hand planted on either side of her head. My dick was yearning at the zipper of my jeans as she laid her palms on my skin and explored my arms, my chest, my abs.

  I rolled over, bringing her with me and sliding the panties off of her in one motion. She came to a position straddling me. The moonbeam hit her on the side of her face, casting eerie, beautiful shadows on the dark side of her nose and mouth. I didn’t wait to appreciate them; instead, I sat up and plunged my tongue back between her lips.

  She moved slowly back and forth, grinding her bare wetness against the desperate bulge in my jeans. Her fingers found my belt and worked it free. She tugged it off of me and threw it behind her, then returned to unlatch the button of my jeans. When both that and the zipper had been dispatched, she reached inside and withdrew the length of my member.

  I leaped to life in her hands, stiffening to half-attention. I pulled back to watch her mouth part even farther as she began to slowly stroke me with two hands. I hardened further, until I reached almost all the way up to her belly button. She looked at me with eyes both primal and afraid.

  “I…I don’t think I can,” she said fearfully.

  “We’ll go slow,” I told her. “Just like I said before. I want to take my time.”

  She nodded as if she understood, but when she looked down at my manhood again, I could tell that she wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t something that could be explained, anyways. I knew she could take me. I would just have to show her.

  I leaned forward again and kissed her gently, then I returned her to her back. I slithered with a wide warpath of kisses down her neck, across her breasts, and along her stomach, until I reached the fork in her legs and I could feel the heat rising from her cunt.

  I held my mouth over her mound and exhaled deeply. The air rushed between my lips and over her opening. She shivered at its touch. I slid my hands from her knees, down the inside of her thighs, until I reached the point where they joined her hips. Pressing down with either palm, I urged her legs wider open, so that I could bend down and lay my tongue flat along her labia.

  Her hands immediately scrambled for the back of my head. She followed the rise and fall of my neck as I began to lap gently at her pussy, mixing the long, slow tease of my tongue’s tip around the outer edges with furtive forays into the depths of her. I licked up to her clit and slurped at it. She tasted just how I’d imagined, a salty sweetness that defied logic but made me hungrier the more I savored it. My pace picked up and I forced her thighs down wider so that she was butterflied in front of me and I was running my tongue around her clit and pussy in a rapid circuit.

  I went faster and faster. I felt her shaking under my hands and knew she wanted to come. I paused just long enough to look up at her and say, “Tell me when you’re going to come. I want to know.”

  She kept her eyes wrenched closed but she nodded and moaned. I resumed licking, starting slowly, but I quickly ramped up. From the bottom of her slit up to her clit and back down again, leaving nothing untouched, bathing her in the heat of my breath and tongue, until she scrunched her whole body tight, bucking at the downward pressure of my hands pinning her to the mattress, and her mouth fluttered open to release the words, “Oh God, I’m coming.”

  I clamped my mouth down on her pussy and let her writhe against me. She came in fits and starts, each limb shaking and seizing independently of the others. A beautiful cacophony of moans and whimpers danced between her lips. Her eyelids were squeezed shut and she held desperately onto the roots of my hair. It was fucking beautiful.

  She was ready. When she had begun to calm down, I moved onto my knees angled my tip to her opening. Her eyes flickered back open and she fixed her grey stare on me. I was having trouble keeping my breath slow and even, maintaining my grip on myself to make sure I went about it carefully and gave this girl everything I wanted to give her.

  “Be careful,” she said again.

  I looked straight back at her. “Baby, careful is not in my vocabulary.”

  With that, I slid into her.

  Part of her wanted to cry out, but I entered so easily into her wetness and fit so perfectly that she knew it was meant to be like this. I had no idea where she came from or what she was doing when she showed up at my clubhouse, but I knew for a fact that this had been a long time coming. Even before we knew each other, this was in the cards for this girl and me. Knowing that was the only thing that kept me from exploding as soon as I buried myself to the hilt inside Paris. My hips came to a rest against hers. I bent over and touched our foreheads together while I began to withdraw and enter again, taking my time. It was as torturous to go slow as it had been to stand from afar and look at her, so as soon as I felt like she was ready, I picked up the speed.

  Soon, I was thrusting in and out of her savagely. She gave as good as she got, jerking her hips up to meet each stroke and squeezing my neck between her hands. The sound of our thrusts colliding was a sharp, wet smack, echoing around the small room over and over again.

  “Fucking hell,” I cursed under my breath. All my focus was on dragging this out, keeping this going. I wanted to fuck this girl forever.

  I arranged her legs behind me and rolled over again. There was barely a pause in the proceedings. My hands fell to her hips and I helped her bounce up and down on my cock. I almost felt bad, impaling this tiny girl on my thick erection, but I knew by the tightness across her forehead and the slackness in her jaw that she was as overcome with the sensation as I was. Intermittent whines jolted out of her as she rode me like she’d been doing it her whole life. Her tits swayed above me. I caught one in my palm and squeezed. They were perky, full, and an impossibly pure cream color, especially as the moon shone across them.

  I was getting close to the edge. Not much longer now before I busted. The fact that I’d made it this far, given how unreal the sex had been, was a goddamn miracle.

  I dragged Paris down and laid her on her side, facing away from me. Pulling one leg up, I slid into her from behind. We rocked together back and forth as I encircled her with an arm around her waist and another underneath her neck. The heat of her body emanated along my front, but all I could focus on was the tightness of her pussy surrounding my cock, swallowing me and trying desperately to keep my length buried inside her.

  My balls were clenching with fire eager to be unleashed. Just a little bit more, a few more strokes, that’s all I wanted. I’d kill men if it meant I could stay here, lingering on the edge with my cock inside Paris and her tiny body held in my arms.

  But then, despite my effort, I couldn’t hold on anymore. She couldn’t either, and we both let out protracted groans as hot cum shot into her tunnel and her body spasmed in my grasp. We came like fireworks in the night, bursting and sparkling until the lights went out.

  We fell asleep like that—her curled into a ball and tucked against me, my cock steadfastly refusing to leave her.

  It always was a stubborn bastard.

  Chapter 7

  Paris

  Buzz, buzz.

  I woke up groggily. The world looked like blurry blobs of color through my hangover and my sleep-crusted eyelids. I felt Micah stir behind me, but he didn’t wake up. What the hell was that buzzing? It was driving me crazy. My head hurt and my whole body was sore and weak.
>
  Buzz, buzz.

  Micah stirred again. He propped himself up on an elbow and surveyed the room. I twisted around to look at him. “What is that?” I murmured. I still hadn’t gathered my wits about me. I felt too tired to move.

  “I think it’s your phone,” he said. His voice was thick with sleepiness, just like mine. But at his words, I jolted upright.

  “What?” I exclaimed. “Where?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I leaped out of bed, still completely naked, and started hunting around the room for the source of the buzzing. “What time is it?” I said in a panic. The light streaming in through the window panes was the grayish blue tint of early morning.

  I finally found my phone vibrating against the stone floor, hidden beneath my top from the night before. I snatched it up and looked at the screen to see that the caller ID was lighting up with Katy’s number.

  “Hello?” I said breathlessly as I answered the call.

  “Paris, where the fuck are you?” came the screeching tone. “I’ve been looking for you for hours! Jesus Christ, we need to go!” Her voice was piercing and not at all helping my hangover headache. I held the phone away from my ear.

  “I’m, uh…” I said, fumbling for an excuse. “I got, um…Micah and I, we…” I trailed off again and looked over at Micah. He had struggled into a seat on the bed and was surveying the scene with a calm expression on his face. Even in the middle of my panic, I couldn’t help but notice the muscle tone riddling his arms and torso. He was otherworldly.

  “You need to get home, Paris!” Katy said. “Your dad is going to kill you!”

  The color drained from my face. My dad.

  She was completely right, of course. I found an alarm clock on the bedside table and saw that it was almost six o’clock in the morning. If he wasn’t already home, then he was sure as hell going to be there any minute. I needed to get back this second.

  Micah spoke up behind me. “I can take you home,” he said calmly.

  I considered his offer for a half-second before realizing what a ridiculous suggestion that was. The first thing that popped into my head was an image of Micah and me, trundling up to the driveway of my house on his motorcycle, with my dad greeting us at the door.

  “Daddy, this is Micah,” I would say. “I met him at a wild biker party last night—you know, the one you explicitly forbade me from going to?—and we did wheelies on his motorcycle then ended up having the most amazing sex of my life.”

  To which my dad would no doubt respond, “Micah, was it? Pleasure to meet you, son. You sure seem like an upstanding young gentleman, and I do appreciate you taking the time to lick my daughter to an orgasm before treating her to a second one with your magnificent cock. Great work. I’d love to shake your hand and congratulate you on a job well done.”

  Yeah, that was of course the way it would go. Except, take away the pleasantries and substitute in a lot more bloodshed, gunshots, and, after everything had settled down, paramedics with body bags.

  “No way,” I told Micah. Into the phone, I said to Katy, “I need you to come get me.”

  “I’m on my way,” she answered. “Be there in five.”

  I dropped the phone onto the desk at my side and began scrounging around for my missing clothes. I dressed as quickly as I could, while Micah shrugged on his jeans and lit a cigarette. He slumped back against the pillows and watched me wriggling into my leather pants and tying the drapey shirt behind my neck. I couldn’t find my panties anywhere, but I didn’t have time to keep looking.

  When I was dressed, I started to stalk towards the door, then froze. I spun back around to look at him. He hadn’t moved. He laid back against the bed like everything was just peachy, like I wasn’t about to get ripped to shreds by my maniacally over-controlling father, in the very likely event that he was home waiting for me. He took a long drag on his cigarette, then exhaled a mushrooming cloud of smoke.

  “I, uh…I don’t know what to say,” I said flatly. The magic from the night before that had gripped me like nothing I’d ever felt or even dreamed about was gone. In its place was a flickering coolness, like coals in a day-old fire. Micah looked like he didn’t give a shit.

  But when he rose and walked over to me, I felt it roar back to life suddenly. His presence was enough to shorten my breath. I felt tiny next to him, and unlike last night, this time I knew what it was like to be claimed and taken by this man. I’d never come so hard in my life. I’d never wanted it so badly. I shuddered. The memory alone was enough to send teasing sparks rippling over my skin and between my legs.

  “It was nice to meet you, Paris,” he said. “I hope I can see you again soon.”

  I started to say, “I hope I can too” when the sound of a blaring car horn interrupted me halfway through the thought. “That must be Katy,” I said. The panic had not let go of me. Every time I blinked, I saw a vision of my dad’s eyes purpling with rage. If I got caught like this, I’d never be allowed out of the house again. “I have to go.”

  “Give me your number,” he said. He reached to the desk behind me and plucked a marker from a cup. Offering me his forearm, I quickly scribbled my number across his skin. The car horn honked again.

  “I really have to go now,” I said.

  “Okay,” he replied simply. He bent down and kissed me again and for one crazy moment I considered not going home. Why not just stay here? These few hours were the best I’d had in months—no, years—heck, maybe the best ever. I’d felt free and smooth and not chained down like I always did. I hadn’t felt this good since before my mom died. Since my father had decided to start playing jail warden.

  But the third honk brought me plummeting back to reality. I needed to go, right now. I broke the kiss off and looked at him as hard as I could. I wanted to sear the image of Micah—his body, his soft mouth, the tattoos swirling across his chest—into my retinas so that I would never, ever be able to forget it.

  Then I turned and ran out.

  “You need to tell me what the hell you got into last night,” Katy demanded as soon as I scrambled into the front seat of her car.

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” I replied. I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t bear to look at Katy right now. There was too much of a crazy emotional storm building up in my chest.

  “Did you sleep with him?” she asked excitedly.

  I didn’t answer.

  “You did, didn’t you? Paris, that’s fantastic!” She squealed happily and drummed her hands on the steering wheel before beginning to batter me with questions. “How was it? Was he good? Are you going to see him again?”

  It wasn’t until my sobs got loud enough for her to hear that she realized I was bawling.

  “Oh, my God. Paris. Par, baby, look at me,” she said in alarm. “C’mon, honey, it’s okay. Couldn’t have been that bad. Shh, shh.”

  Words blubbered out of me in response, none of them making any sense. But Katy knew me well enough to just stroke my shoulder with her free hand as we shot down the road as fast as she could manage. I eventually gave up trying to explain and just let the tears flow.

  By the time we reached the front of my house, I was mostly calm. But I felt hollow and thin. My eyes were swollen with insufficient sleep and the overwhelming emotions.

  “I’ll call you later, okay, honey?” she said sympathetically as we pulled to a stop. I nodded and wiped the streaked mascara away from the bags beneath my eyes. “Now get inside. I don’t see your dad’s bike, so hopefully he’s not home yet.” She patted my head one more time before I climbed out.

  I raced to the front door and jammed my key in the lock. “C’mon, c’mon,” I begged, “open up, please.” It finally gave way and I burst inside as Katy drove away.

  I shut the door behind me and paused for a moment to listen. The house was deathly still and completely dark. No lights shone on the ground floor. So far, so good. I just had to make it to my room and climb into bed. Then I’d be safe enough to sleep for a while before I had to wake up and
interpret the insane twists my life had taken over the last twenty-four hours.

  My thoughts were a swirling mix of my father, the biology tests looming in front of me, and, underneath it all, Micah. What was I supposed to make of everything that had happened with him? I shook my head. That would have to come later. For now, safety lay in my room. Everything between here and there screamed danger.

  I looked up from the bottom of the stairs. From what I could see, the light in my father’s office wasn’t on. I slipped off my heels and crept up, one stair at a time, craning my neck to see if there was anything moving on the second floor.

  My feet made shushing noises in the carpet. I reached the top landing. No movement. No light. My room was at the end of the hall. I relaxed and let out a long, whistling sigh, letting the tension seep out of my shoulders. Taking the five long steps to cross in front of my father’s office to the door of my bedroom, I reached out a hand to grab the knob.