Page 27 of Where I Should’ve Been

“Now, ride me,” I tell her, gripping her hips tightly and guiding her up and down my length. The sight of my hands on her skin amplifies every sensation.

Her tits bounce with each thrust, and her lips part every time my cock fills her up.

“Goddamn,” I whisper. “You’re perfect.”

She moans. But she keeps going. Up and down. Up and down. She rides my cock like she needs this release as much as I do.

Fuck, she feels so good. Too good.

I flip her onto her back and spread her thighs wide. I push myself to the hilt, but I stay there. “You’re going to come on my cock,” I say and move my hands down her body. I grab her perfect breasts, feeling their softness in contrast to my work-roughened hands. I lean forward and suck her nipples into my mouth, flicking my tongue against the sensitive buds until her hips start to squirm against me.

And when the urge to keep fucking her grows too strong, I get on my knees and move my hand to her clit, drawing lazy circles with my index finger. Her arousal coats my skin, and her moans mix with mine, echoing off the walls of my bedroom.

She arches her back, and her eyes damn near roll to the back of her head as the first waves of her orgasm consume her body.

As she rides the waves of her pleasure, I drive my cock inside her at a deep and frantic pace. Her pussy clenches around me, gripping me like a fucking vise, and I can’t hold back any longer.

I come hard with my cock pushed deep inside Breezy Bishop, and this time, I know for sure it really happened.

10

Breezy

Saturday, January 16th

The snow crunches under my boots as I cross the yard, and my breath puffs white in the predawn dark. Talk about a walk of shame, Breeze.

One-night-stand-style sex with the sheep farmer in my brother’s small town, initiated and pursued by me, was not on my post-gallery-apocalypse bingo card. In fact, it’s so outside the realm of possibility I considered while fleeing New York to come here, it’s practically paranormal.

Add in that it’s five a.m., there’s a fifty percent chance of a deranged woman with a camera and a notepad sleuthing somewhere in the vicinity, and the tenuous return to a house my loudmouth brother lives in, and you’ve got a trifecta of brain-eating circumstances nipping at my heels.

Still…it was good. Mind-bending, limb-melting, Yelp-review-worthy in all the ways suggested.

But the buck has to stop there. I left Tad asleep, sprawled across his mattress with one leg out of the comforter and hair in disarray, donned last night’s clothes, and hit the icy tundra without saying goodbye to establish a baseline—I don’t want a commitment. I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t want expectations and responsibility.

I’ve spent my life meeting the needs of others, but this felt like meeting my own.

Tad Hanson, while incredibly handsome, charming, and all the fun things, will be nothing more than a fun distraction while I try to find all my damn marbles.

By the time I use my key to slip through Bennett’s back door, my fingers are numb and my lungs sting from the cold. I rub at the pins and needles in my legs with closed fists and tiptoe down the hall, but the kitchen smells like coffee, and the low murmur of cartoons hums in a way that terrifies me.

Five was supposed to be before the sunrise and before the inhabitants of this house were up, but I guess with a toddler involved, nothing is guaranteed.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any options for a route to my room without passing the living room, and by the sound of things, that’s where the people are.

Okay, Breeze. Confidence is key here. Act like nothing is weird.

Straightening my spine and shaking off the nerves, I follow the noise through the kitchen and down the hall to Bennett on the couch. The worst of two options—I’d have rather dodged Norah—but it’s fine. His hair is mussed from sleep, he has a mug in one hand, and Autumn is in his lap. My niece is wearing fuzzy pajamas with kittens on them, clutches a fistful of Cheerios like they’re diamonds, and her still-sleepy eyes are set to the TV.

My footsteps across the hardwood floors draw Bennett’s eyes toward me, and a slow smirk robbing him of his previous lethargy sounds all my warning alarms. “Huh. What an interesting surprise.” Murmuring to Autumn even though she pays zero attention, he taunts me. “Aunt Breezy’s either been out super late or got up super early, and seeing as we ended last night with her headed to bed, I can’t wait to hear which it is.”

“Well, good morning to you too,” I deadpan, unwinding my scarf and hanging my coat on a chair.

“Aha, the avoidance technique,” he says lightly, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve used it myself, many times before.”

I shoot him a flat look. “I’ll have you know, I’m a grown woman, Ben. I don’t need you keeping tabs on me.”

“Didn’t say otherwise,” he answers, and his mouth twitches in a small but very annoying smile. “But your silence is deafening.”