(un) Broken

by Charlotte Daniels

  Katie frowns. “Mia, nothing is going to happen to you. And maybe just let Nic have the birds and the bees talk with Jake? You know, man to man?”

  “Maybe you should ask him to give you the birds and the bees talk—with a full-body demonstration.” I laugh, waggling my eyebrows at her as Mia snickers alongside me.

  Throwing a pillow at us, she huffs. “Oh, shut up.” Her face flushes with embarrassment, but the glint in her eye betrays her desire. Turning her devilish look to me, she crosses her arms over her chest. “And you can’t talk, Miss. I-just-slept-with-my-chiseled-chested-neighbor.”

  A soft smile pulls at my lips at the thought of my night with Garett. I shrug but then look at her curiously. “Wait, how do you know he has a chiseled chest?”

  Katie starts snickering. She tries to smother it behind her hand before pointing to Mia who suddenly seems to find the ceiling particularly interesting. “We know more than that he’s fit…” she murmurs.

  “Oh God, what did you do?” I groan, eyeing the pair.

  “Well… I may have taken a quick photo of you two this morning…”

  My eyes bulge. “What!”

  “Don’t give me that. As your sister and best friend, it’s my sworn duty to embarrass you… especially on your thirtieth. But his dick got in the way.” She shrugs as her eyes roam over my body. “Like, how are you even walking right now? There should be a survivors’ anonymous group for lasting a night with that thing. And maybe a t-shirt.”

  “Delete the picture, you perv,” I frown.

  “Fine. But you owe me some more finger vault material.” Taking her phone out, she deletes the picture, throwing the device onto the coffee table with a thud.

  “What the hell is finger vault material?”

  Mia rolls her eyes and stares at me, shaking her head slightly. “It’s the female version of a spank bank. Because you use your fingers when you—”

  “God! Stop.” I cover her mouth with my hand, laughing as she shoots me the middle finger. “We know how masturbation works.”

  Katie clears throat. “Well, all of this was in aid of something. How’s your book going?”

  I throw my head back with a groan. “I haven’t even looked at it,” I admit, my eyes falling on my forgotten laptop.

  Writing is meant to be therapeutic, like baking… or dancing. A few years ago, I couldn’t imagine a day without waking up and writing until my hands resembled the curled claws of a T-Rex. But now? My work feels like a marathon; months of hard work in exchange for nothing but grueling disappointment and pain.

  I sigh. “I don’t know where to start.”

  Katie smiles warmly and pats my knee. “Just read over it again tomorrow. Maybe you’ll see it in a whole new light?”

  I take her hand and squeeze it. “Hopefully.”

  If this manuscript were any shittier, it would be a damn toilet.

  I can’t believe I wrote this crap full of basic-bitch plots and an endless stream of boring as hell characters. It’s the worst novel I’ve ever written. How long have I been this… blind? I wouldn’t be able to pay someone to take it from me. No wonder Mia wouldn’t accept it.

  Have I become a has-been already? Is there any point in me trying to save my career?

  Brisk knocking tears my attention away from my catastrophe of a novel to the person trying to break down my door.

  I swear if this isn’t an emergency…

  Ripping it open, my anger sizzles away, replaced by sparks of desire. Knowing that I had spent a delicious night wrapped in his arms, seeing Garrett standing outside of my apartment sends tendrils of lust through my body.

  With his arms laden with takeaway boxes, he maneuvers himself into my apartment, making himself right at home.

  I follow him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought that since it’s lunchtime, you could eat. And I could eat. And I could also offer you a proposition of sorts.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  He smirks as he glances over his shoulder. “You don’t even know what I’m asking for.”

  “Sex?”

  His eyes widen as he shakes his head. “Ah. No… that’s not really… but we can… I mean—Let’s just eat first.”

  I shrug and lead him to the kitchen to start plating up. He hands me one of the plates, piled high with Indian food, and ushers me into the living room where we make a temporary camp out of pillows on the floor.

  After a few brief moments of companionable silence, Garrett clears his throat, sipping from a bottle of water. “I need your help with something… or a couple of things, actually,” he says, then his face contorts with lines of worry. “I’m in kind of tight situation that I need help getting out of. And you’re a writer, so you have a certain know-how the rest of us don’t…” He looks around, his posture growing rigid.

  I put a hand up. “I’m a romance writer, not a horror writer. I can’t help you dispose of—or hide—a body. I mean, sure, we could probably use Google and find some great answers, but you’d be far better off with someone else. Try Nic. He’s pretty good at weird shit.”

  Garrett pauses, giving me a strange look. “What? I came here to ask if you’d like to try a new line of products for a segment my company is launching. And to see if I could hire you to write an article or maybe a short story to help sell them… Not to help me get rid of a body.” He tilts his head. “The guys in marketing are only so good with words; we need someone to show our customers what they’re missing out on—without producing porn.”

  “Oh… Well, that kind of makes more sense,” I say. “And is probably a safer option. I’m terrible at keeping secrets and I’d rat you out faster than Chinese takeout.”

  I dig my garlic naan into the curry and close my eyes with the mouthful, inhaling deeply through my nose as the spices assault my taste buds. But as I open my eyes again, the weight of his gaze pierces my food-lust.

  “So let me see if I’m understanding this correctly,” he says, one eyebrow raised. “You’re okay with helping me get rid of a body. But you don’t think you’d be a good candidate because you don’t know how… not because it would be wrong?”

  “And because I’m not exactly a weight lifter. Deadweight is… well… dead. Can you see me hauling sacks around with these arms and legs? I’m pretty sure I’d get a hernia.” I flex my arms to prove my point.

  He shakes his head, his attention back on his food. “Right. Okay… let’s just skip over the part where you’re kind of scary and get back to my favor.”

  Grinning, I tear into the naan, waiting for him to continue.

  “We have a couple of edible lines that aren’t doing well. We’ve come up with a strategy of sorts to help prompt people to buy them. Kind of like a… voice-note review? People can submit their reviews on our website, giving them more life and character. We haven’t been able to find anyone who’ll do it, so I was hoping… that you might like to help?” He pauses, his gaze shifting from my laptop to me. “And you’re a writer, so I was thinking that maybe you could write a short story featuring our products? To kind of lure readers into the world of sex toys.”

  I laugh through a mouthful of naan. Me? Reviewing and writing a story about sex products? But I finish my food in an odd silence. Looking up from my empty plate, Garrett’s lips pull into a sad smile as his eyes meet mine.

  Oh shit, he was serious? Horror pops my mouth open. “Ah. Garrett, I’m a terrible public speaker. I mumble, get my words mixed up, and drop the F-bomb a lot. I don’t think I’d be any good. I’d ruin your line before you even got it out the door.”

  “I think you underestimate yourself, Ellie.” His eyes heat as they roam over my face. “You’ve got that husky voice you’d expect to hear from a telephone sex operator. It’s surprising at first, and then it wraps around you, drawing you in—like a sailor to a siren. You’d be perfect.”

  Oh, wow. His voice rings with honesty as I eye him carefully. “And no one would know it’s me, right? For the story and the rev
iews? I can’t have this jeopardize my career, Garrett.”

  “No, no. Your reviews would be anonymous. We’ll create you an account and upload these voice notes under a random username that has nothing to do with you. And you can write under another pseudonym if you want. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize you or your career, Ellie. Believe me.”

  Playing with the infinity ring on my right hand, I nod. “Okay.”

  “Seriously? Just like that?”

  “What? Were you expecting to have to beg me?”

  “Well… kind of? I was honestly expecting more of an argument from you.”

  “Am I your last resort?”

  He winces, nodding. “I don’t really know anyone who would be willing to do it.”

  Well, well, well. “I’ll do it… on one condition.”

  He smirks, quirking his eyebrow. “Name it. Whatever you want… Unless you need help moving a dead body. Then I’m out.”

  “Ha-ha. I need your help finishing off that list of challenges. You’ve already seen me naked, so it’s not like anything else will shock you.”

  My knees crack as I hop up off the floor, clearing up our mess. I wave him away as he moves to help.

  “What do you have left?”

  I shrug. “I’m actually not sure. I think the list is on the couch. Do you want to grab it and read out what’s not crossed off? Then you can help me decide.”

  I rinse off the plates, throw them into the dishwasher, then take out my mismatched wine mugs and a cold bottle of Semi-Sav—the nice New Zealand kind—balancing them in two hands as I make my way back to the living area.

  “How does white wine sound? That’s all I have right now.” Holding the wine up, I walk toward the coffee table carefully.

  “So, Ellie… were you having fun without me?”

  If I didn’t have an expensive bottle of wine in my hand, I would have screamed.

  Never in my life have I seen anything more horrifying than the man I’m attracted to holding hopelessly flopping dildo. And I thought dropping it on the ground in the elevator was bad.

  At least I sanitized the damn thing…

  “I’m beginning to realize there’s more to you than most people see.” My stomach drops as the dildo wobbles in his hands.

  That’s kind of hot.

  Bad Ellie. Bad.

  The wine mugs and wine clatter hard onto the coffee table as I snatch the dildo from his hands and fling it up the hallway. The bang of it hitting a door releases the breath that I was holding in a whoosh. I turn slowly, panting as adrenaline still throbs through my muscles.

  With his eyebrow raised and a delicious smirk on his lips, he sits on the couch, throwing his arm along the back and crossing a leg over his knee, and waits.

  Ripping open the bottle of wine, I pour myself a large cup, taking a big gulp to cool down the horror and lust circulating through my veins like wildfire. Grabbing the list from him, I quickly go through the ones I haven’t completed yet.

  “I think all I have left is dirty dancing with someone and giving someone a lap—”

  “Yes.”

  “—dance.”

  “I vote for a lap dance. Oh hey, would you look at that! I’m already sitting down, how convenient.” He gestures grandly to himself and the couch. I smirk but shrug. Too bad I’m not wearing anything remotely attractive under these clothes.

  I turn down the lights until I can just make out his shape on the couch. But when I move to face him, his shadow shifts in shape. Growing in places and shrinking in others. My heart pounds in my chest as images of my old basement flashes in my mind, freezing me in my place.

  I’m in my home. Michael isn’t here.

  Inhaling sharply, I can smell the Indian food lingering in the air. The spices tickle my nose, grounding me, and my eyes start to adjust. Garrett’s smile fills me with warmth, his presence soothing my fear as he sits patiently waiting.

  I focus on choosing a song on my phone with shaky fingers. When was the last time I did something like this? Will he laugh if I screw up? My throat tightens before I dismiss those thoughts. He’s not what I expected… in a good way.

  I select one, then lay my phone gently on the table. I wait for the song to start before moving my hips to the rhythm, finding my place. I twirl my hands in the air, then run them down my face as I slowly inch forward. I maintain eye contact as my fingers trail down my neck, over my chest and down to my hips.

  Garrett’s eyes crackle with heat as they follow my hands, roaming over my body, taking in every move like a lion watching its prey. Turning around, I pull my shirt off, tossing it to the side. Left in my leggings and bra, I dip low before rising, shaking my hips seductively to the music.

  I slowly undo the clasp on my bra one hook at a time, then slide the straps down my shoulders until I’m holding it in my hands. Tossing the bra to the side, my tits bounce free, but I cross my arms over them as I turn, keeping them from his sight. The noticeable bulge in his pants spurs me on.

  Releasing my handfuls, I slide my hands down my body to the waist of my leggings, pulling them down slowly as I bite my lip.

  Keeping my eyes on him, I step out of one leg and then do the same for the other. But the fabric catches on my heel. Raising it higher behind me, I pull hard, releasing my foot in a spring of cotton.

  Oh shit. I feel myself start to lose my balance and tip forward. My arms helicopter, but I shriek as I fall face-first onto Garrett’s jean-clad cock, headbutting the sizeable package.

  8

  Garrett

  I keel over as throbbing pain shoots through my dick, pulsing its way to my stomach. Of all the ways my night could have gone, getting headbutted in the dick wasn’t on the list.

  Ellie scrambles off my lap and kneels on the floor before me, her wide eyes cringing as they flick between my dick and my face “Oh my God, I am so sorry.”

  Her eyes frantically search the room, stopping as she spots the wine bottle. She reaches over and thrusts the thing into my crotch. I grunt and push the bottle back, easing the pressure on my now soft and broken cock.

  Minutes tick by and the pain dulls to a rhythmic throb as the blood rushes back, my stomach clenching less and less.

  “I don’t even know how to apologize for that…” Ellie bites her lip and looks away, her cheeks heating.

  My eyes roam over her now clothed body, her oversized t-shirt hiding some of my favorite things. When did she get dressed?

  Her eyes find mine as she hops up from the ground to sit next to me, careful not to jostle the bottle. “On a scale of one-to-ten, how bad was it?”

  “Well, I can definitely say that was a lap dance I will never forget.” I snort, chuckling as her cheeks flush again and she swats my chest lightly.

  “Seriously though, Ellie. Anytime you want to do a repeat performance, I’m more than willing to be your audience. Just… maybe leave off the big finale.” I wince, my dick remembering the pain.

  “It’s not like I did it on purpose…” she says quietly.

  “Sure…” I hum. “You know, if you wanted your face in my lap, there are less painful ways of making it happen. Pleasurable ways, even.” I smirk, pulling her against my chest, though she tries to resist.

  “Jerk,” she mumbles, giving in and melting against me.

  “Off? That’s definitely one way. Any others you want to try while we’re on the topic?” She laughs, the sound vibrating against my chest.

  “And what do I get out of this?” Her eyebrow quirks as she stares up at me.

  Whatever you want. Cupping her jaw, I tilt her face up to mine, tracing the line of her cheek with my thumb. “You’ll get my mouth all over your pussy. You’ll get my hands all over your body. And you’ll get my hard cock, filling you until you burst.”

  “Yes, please…” she says, eyelids heavy.

  I laugh, brushing my lips over her plump ones. I nip her bottom lip lightly as her body quivers beside me. My lips trail down her neck. I feel her pulse jump as I lightly gr
aze her soft skin.

  I reach under her shirt and palm her tits in my hand. I pull on her nipples, leaning down to bite on them through the fabric. A low groan escapes her lips and her hands pull on my hair, drawing me closer to her chest.

  Sliding to the floor, I spread her legs, her thighs tensing underneath my hands. Grabbing the waistband of her leggings and panties, I rip them from her body.

  I rise back to her face, removing her t-shirt as I move. I throw it away and her hooded, lust-filled eyes watch my every movement as I kiss my way down her stomach. As my knees touch the floor, I throw her legs over my shoulders and pull her forward until her ass meets the edge of the couch. My eyes devour every inch of her body from below.

  So soft, yet so strong.

  It’s one thing to have sex with someone, but to have a woman trust you enough to be face deep in the most intimate part of her, to have her trusting you to pleasure her, to help her find her release—that’s like an aphrodisiac.

  My eyes move to her neatly trimmed pussy, my jaw clenching, aching to taste her. Lowering my mouth to her skin, I kiss around her inner thighs, massaging her ass with my fingers and rocking her gently against my face.

  “Garrett,” she mutters my name, and I pause, breathing a slow breath over her.

  “What?” I ask. Nipping at her mound once, I elicit another groan from her gorgeous lips, needing to hear her words.

  “God… Garrett. Just touch my fucking pussy already!” she cries out, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

  I chuckle and she shivers as my hot breath races over her. I trail my finger down the wet seam of her pussy lips, her juices coating my finger. When her eyes meet mine, I suck my finger into my mouth. I hear her breath catch in her throat as she watches me taste her.

  “Delicious,” I repeat the process again and again; each time she shudders more than the last, her pussy getting sleeker with each caress.

  I wiggle my eyebrows at her growing frustration. “So, are you going to tell me what you want, Eleanor?”

  Her chest heaves as she looks up at the ceiling, then down at me. “So help me God, if you don’t put your mouth on me right now, I’m going to do it my fucking self.”