Page 33 of The Heart Breaker

I want her undone. I want her wrecked. I want her to feel this tomorrow and hate herself for it. I want to take back every inch she ever took from me—every look, every word, every memory I didn’t ask to keep.

She gasps, shaky, wrecked breaths leaving her lips.

“Listen to you,” I murmur against her ear, burying myself deep in her pussy. “All that attitude earlier, and now you can’t even breathe right.”

I drive into her again, harder this time, her breathy moans music to my ears. I pull almost all the way out before pushingback in slow and deep, watching her body jolt when I fill her again.

“Jesus,” I grunt, my head tipping back for a second as her pussy tightens around my cock. I pull out again and push in slowly once more, gripping her hips to keep her right where I want her. “You’re fucking soaked.”

Fuck. I want to tattoo ‘Cole’s property’ right above her ass so no one else ever gets to look at her like this. The thought slams into me and I snap the fuck out of it, because this only happens once.

Never again.

My hands tighten on her hips as I pick up the pace, my cock driving into her again and again, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

She tries to hold herself up on her elbows, but another thrust knocks the strength out of her and she drops back down to the mattress with a broken moan, muffled in my sheets.

“Oh, God,” she gasps when I thrust into her. “I’m gonna?—”

A loud cry leaves her lips as she comes, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

The second she squeezes around my cock, I know I’m not lasting. I drag her back onto my cock and bury myself to the hilt, fucking her faster as the heat of her tight pussy clamps down around me.

“Fuck—”

My body jerks as I come hard inside her, my hips grinding deep while I ride out the orgasm.

She’s still pulsing around me, still trembling from her own orgasm, and it only makes it worse or better. Fuck, I don’t know.

I stay buried deep inside her, breathing hard as my forehead drops to her spine, my lips brushing against her skin.

Neither of us talks. All I hear are our ragged breaths and the pounding in my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to work through what just happened.

After a few seconds, I push myself up and pull out of her, ignoring the small gasp she lets out at the loss. I roll off the bed and tug off the condom, tying it off before tossing it into the trash without looking at her.

Can’t.

Not right now.

I drag a hand over my face, like I can scrub the whole night off my skin. Like I can erase the feel of her from my palms, my tongue, the back of my eyelids.

Finally scratched the itch.

Fucked Chase’s ex.

And now I’m done with her.

That’s what this was supposed to do—burn it out of my system.

Finally end whatever the hell’s been coiled between us since the night I walked into that club.

Fuck, I need a cigarette.

“I should, um…” she starts to say.

“Yeah.” I glance over my shoulder, catching her standing in my room in nothing but that lace bra and her skirt already on—no panties underneath, because I tore them off like a starving animal.

Her eyes meet mine for a split second before she jerks them away, tugging her shirt over her head as fast as she can.