Page 52 of Break Me Apart
Here, it feels different.
The driver says something else. He’s amused, gesturing briefly at a group of people crossing the street. Ari laughs under his breath and replies. I catch one word this time — “druk,”— and it feels surreal, sitting here listening to him banter casually in a language I didn’t know he spoke.
His hand shifts again, causing heat to curl low in my stomach, but I keep my eyes on the window, watching aman lean down to kiss his partner’s temple outside a café, unbothered by the people passing inches away.
“Do people ever—” I start, then stop, unsure how to finish the thought.
Ari tilts his head a fraction, eyes on the street ahead. “Ever what?”
“Care?” I say finally. “Here.”
He considers that. I can feel it in the way his thumb pauses and the way his breathing shifts. “Some do,” he says. “Most don’t.”
We pass another canal, this one lined with houseboats lit warmly from inside. Through one window, I see two men standing close together, one passing the other a mug, their shoulders brushing like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Ari follows my gaze without turning his head. “No one knows us,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
The taxi slows at a light, and Ari’s fingers flex once, then relax again. “No,” he agrees, his voice calm. “They don’t.”
The light changes, and the taxi moves on.
The car lurches to a stop outside the hotel, and Ari’s hand brushes mine as he reaches for the door handle. Just a graze, but it’s enough to send a jolt straight to my balls. I swallow hard, adjusting myself as subtly as I can before climbing out after him. The night air is cool, but my skin feels like it’s on fire.
We don’t speak as we check in; we don’t even glance at each other. The clerk slides two keycards across the counter, and Ari takes his with a nod, his fingers lingering just a second too long on the plastic. I watch the way his biceps flex under his t-shirt and the way his jeans cling to his arse when he turns. The need to touch him is almost overwhelming.
The elevator ride is torture. Ari leans against the back wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on the floor, numbers lighting up one by one. I stand as far from him as I can without making it obvious. I force myself to focus on the numbers ticking upward.
When the doors open, I step out first, not letting myself look back. “Room twelve,” Ari says behind me.
“Fourteen,” I reply.
We stand there, keys in hand, the air between us charged and heavy, and I watch him walk away down the hall.
I force myself to stop, and enter my room. Once inside, I lean my forehead against the door after I close it, breathing hard like I’ve just run a mile. My hands are shaking now. I press them flat against the wood until they stop.
I drop my bag, strip off my jacket, then my shirt, and toss them aside. I don’t even bother unpacking properly. I yank my bag open, digging out the lube I stashed at the bottom. I sit on the bed, running my hands over the comforter, imagining Ari’s grip there instead, his fingers digging in as he fucks me senseless.
Then there’s a knock, and my head snaps up.
I’m on my feet before I process it, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my teeth. I swing the door open, and there he is, filling the frame, his eyes dark with hunger. He doesn’t say a word. He steps in, the hotel room door clicks shut behind him, and before the lock even engages, Ari’s hands are on me — rough, demanding, like he’s been waiting too long to touch me.
He spins me around, his fingers digging into my hips, yanking me back against him, and I can already feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing into my arse through his jeans. My breath hitches, my own cock twitching against my bottoms, and I don’t even have time to think before his mouth is on my neck, his teeth sinking into the skin just below my ear.
“Fuck,” I gasp, my head tipping back against his shoulder. His tongue flicks over the bite mark, soothing the sting before his lips crash onto mine. I melt into it, my hands gripping his wrists where they’re still locked around my waist, my fingers tracing the veins that stand out against his skin. He tastes like smoke and something darkly sweet, and I can’t get enough. My cock is throbbing, leaking, as I grind back against him, desperate for friction.
Ari groans into my mouth, his grip tightening before breaking the kiss just long enough to spin me around and slam me against the nearest wall. His palm flattens against my sternum, pinning me in place as his mouth finds mineagain. “I missed this fucking mouth,” he growls against my lips, his voice rough, his accent thicker when he’s like this. His hands are all over me — gripping my jaw, my throat, my hips — like he’s trying to memorise me all over again. I whimper, my cock aching at the thought of him inside me.
“Fuck—” He cuts me off with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, his tongue fucking into my mouth, his hands sliding under the waistband of my joggers, palming my arse, squeezing hard, making me moan against his lips.
“I’ve been thinking about this ass for months,” he murmurs against my lips, his fingers teasing my crack. His fingers hook into the waistband, then he yanks them down just enough to free my cock, and the cool air hits my overheated skin, making me shudder. His thumb swipes over the slick head and my hips jerk forward into his touch.
His mouth crashes into mine again, and I groan into it, my hands flying to his hair, yanking the tie free so his blond strands spill between my fingers. He bites my lower lip hard, making my knees weak. “Please,” I breathe, my voice already breaking. I’m so fucking hard it hurts, my cock leaking, my balls heavy. “I need you.”
“Begging already, detka?” His fingers leave my cock, trailing lower, over my balls, then further back, teasing the crack of my arse again. I spread my legs wider automatically, my body already knowing what it wants.
What he wants.
His touch is light, barely there one second. Then the next, his palm smacks against my arse cheek, the sharp sting making my breathing hitch. “Get on the bed. Now.”
A change of setting can make the next story feel fresh.
