Page 51 of Before We Break

On my way down the hall, I peek into Auggie’s room. He’s tucked in with his favorite teddy bear and his baby blanket and snoring like a grown man, with his mouth wide open.

I trail into my bedroom, carefully close the door behind me, toss my leather jacket onto the chair, and kick off my boots. My night was far from successful, and I only have myself to blame. I never should’ve pulled Clio into this mess. I was so close to breaking the only hard-and-fast rule of the contract. If Callie hadn’t pulled her away, I have no doubt I would’ve.

Against my better judgement, I pull off my shirt and bring it to my nose, inhaling the scent of lingering orange blossom. I don’t know if it’s her perfume or her shampoo, but I want it everywhere all the time, surrounding me. When she’s in my arms, the noise and the lifetime of residual pain quiets, like the dull hum of the refrigerator. It’s still there, but after a time, you stop noticing it.

“Oh god,” a muffled feminine voice reaches my ears. “Oh, fuck.”

Is that…

A moan travels through the plaster separating my room from Clio’s, and I curse under my breath, my hands curling into fists. She’s in there, on the other side of that wall. Is she alone? Did she bring someone home from the bar?

The thought that she could be in there right now with some other undeserving fuck makes my skin crawl.

Ignoring all logical sense, I listen for some sort of confirmation—a man’s voice or his name said in a breathy tone. Instead, I hear the unmistakable buzz of a vibrator.

I’m no stranger to toys. In fact, I have a drawer full, so it’s possible whoever she’s with has the good sense to know that toys are teammates, not competition, but my gut is telling me she’s alone over there, taking matters into her own hands. Fuck—I want it to be me. I want every ounce of her pleasure to be mine. Every sigh, every moan, every single toe-curling orgasm.

I sink onto my mattress, my cock straining against the seam of my jeans as the noises combine into some erotic fucking symphony. I shouldn’t be listening, but I can’t tear myself away.

If she didn’t want me to hear her, she shouldn’t be so loud.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s torturing me on purpose, the fucking brat.

Say my name, Clio. Please fucking say my name.

My fingers drift to the button on my jeans, popping it open to release my rock hard erection. I take myself in hand, giving it a few rough tugs and spreading the precum from the tip all the way down my shaft.

I throw my head back and groan at the sweet relief.

Her sounds grow louder, more frantic, and my cock jolts in response.

I kick off my pants and slide farther up the bed, leaning my back against the headboard to get as close as I can to the noise. It’s not enough. I’d much rather be in there with her, watching her play with her pretty pussy, driving herself to the edge. I’d talk her through each step until she can’t take it anymore. Until her muscles convulse and shake from the force of her orgasm.

I work myself harder and faster, sweat beading on my forehead from the effort. I’m so fucking close, but I need more. I need her. The thought of being inside of her, feeling her coming around my cock has me close to a full collapse.

My stomach tightens as pleasure courses through me. I consider reaching into the nightstand for a dildo, but there’s no time. Instead, I spit into my other palm, spreading it over my fingers before drawing my knees up and reaching lower to circle my ass. One finger breaches past the tight ring of muscle, and I clench around the intrusion, pumping in and out slowly.

Minutes stretch on as I chase my release, just barely out of reach. Clio cries out into her room, and the sound settles deep in my bones. She whimpers. The vibrations stop. There’s a loud thud, likely the headboard hitting the wall.

I pump my shaft faster, picking up the pace until my spine tingles and every muscle in my body coils tight.

I growl her name as my climax tears through me, shooting ropes of cum across my chest and abs. My toes curl into the comforter.

As I come down from the high, I reach for the box of tissues on the nightstand and clean myself up, shoving down the pang of regret.

I hadn’t meant to call out her name, but it’s too late to take it back.

It’s not rational, but a distant part of me wants her to know how badly I want her, how much I crave her. Deep down, I know this was a mistake, but I can’t seem to muster up a single fuck to give.

THIRTEEN

SEX TOYS: FRIEND OR FOE?

♫ Why Can’t I - Liz Phair

CLIO

“Was it like… a moan?” Quinn asks.