Page 74 of Breakaway Hearts

I put my hands on her hips and tease the hem, under my jacket, but, “Still cold,” she tells me. Which is obviously a lie when our breath is fogging up the windows, but I’m good with whatever she’s comfortable with.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” I say when she touches herself in front of me, getting herself ready.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks, breathing heavy.

“Jacket pocket,” I agree, about to grab it, but she beats me to it.

Once I’m covered, Madison lines us up and lowers herself onto me. Thank God she goes slow, pausing to let herself adjust, because she’s so tight and warm and perfect that I am going to embarrass myself.

“Ah, fuck, Mads, this is…”

She nods like she feels it too, like she understands but is too caught up to speak.

She’s holding herself with my shoulders and I rest my hands on her hips, there if she needs support, but letting her set the pace. It’s almost torturous, how slow she goes at first, rolling her hips and driving me crazy. But then she rakes her hands through my hair and takes what she needs, lifting herself up and sinking back down to hit the right angle, and I’m about ready to explode.

She’s breathing heavy, riding me like her life depends on it, but I refuse to come before she does.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Madison

Do I have to kill him?

“Can I?” Owen asks as I’m trying to get off on his dick. I usually finish myself after, but Owen is trying to hold out, and I’m chasing my high just as hard as I’m trying to make him lose that battle.

“What?” I manage, out of breath and definitely not thinking straight. I’m closer than I’ve ever been to coming without my own fingers helping out. Owen’s big, not so much that it hurts, but he fills me and keeps hitting that spot that turns my limbs to jelly.

He shows me his right hand, then keeps his eyes on me as he brings it down between us. His hand is paused above my clit when I glance down, but when I nod, he teases it, circling at a pace that drives me crazy, as I slowly sink back down onto him.

“Oh, Fuck, don’t stop,” I say as I find my rhythm, not quite matching his, but my pussy is clenching and I’m starting to see stars, teetering on the edge as we lock eyes, his coaxing me to let go, but I can’t, not with him watching me like that, so I close my eyes and bring our bodies closer together, resting my hands on the hard muscle of his chest, biting down hard on my bottom lip before he sends me over the edge, and I cry out in pleasure.

His fingers keep working me until I’m through the orgasm, then he pumps up into me a couple more times and finally lets himself go, uttering what I’m pretty sure is, “Fuck, Madison,” with something I can’t hear at the end as he buries his face into the crook between my neck and shoulder.

That’s not car fuck behavior, so I reluctantly push against his chest and lift myself off him.

He seems dazed, but cognizant enough to hold the bottom of the condom as I do, then discard it while I shuffle back to the passenger’s seat and adjust my skirt.

“I’ll drive you home,” he says like he senses the night is over for us.

“That’s okay,” I say, then clear my throat because it sounded way too weak.

“I want to, Madison,” he assures me. As if this is about me not wanting to inconvenience him.

“I have plans with Jay, and believe me, you don’t want him to know this happened.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but I pull on the door handle, which is mercifully unlocked, and sprint to the front door. I know he could outrun me and catch me if he wanted to, especially when I have to stop and give him back his jacket, but he waits at the front of his SUV, shirtless, watching until I’m inside before he gets back into the driver’s seat. I feel a little bad, because he probably wanted to come back inside. All his friends are here. But I’m glad he caught on that I didn’t want to be followed. I also don’t want to go into Slapshots looking like I just had sex in a car, so I shoot Jay a text to say I’ll wait in the car, then try to redo my ponytail, which is probably the least of my concerns, but the easiest to fix.

Jay is out with the pizzas before I even secure the elastic. He takes one look at me and asks, “Ready to go?” so I nod and follow him.

He waits until we’re driving to take my hand from my lap, where I didn’t realize I was equal parts self-soothing and attacking my cuticles.

“Do I have to kill him?” he asks calmly.

“Nope,” I mean to say, but I think I just shake my head.

“Are you okay?” I love him so much for not prying into what happened.

I want to nod and say, ‘of course’, but the words won’t come out.