Wrecked Heart

by Cassie Wild

  Apprehension fluttered inside as he pressed more firmly against me. He was…wow. Instinctively, I tensed.

  Sean sensed it and shifted, slipping a hand between us and stroking my clitoris. At the same time, he withdrew, pulling back. The pressure eased, and I relaxed.

  He slid forward once more, stopping when I tensed up again.

  “You’re going to drive me crazy,” he said against my lips.

  “I…” I groaned as he slid farther home, his cock pulsing inside me, caressing and teasing exposed nerve endings. It was erotic and intense and enticing, and I didn’t know if I could stand much more.

  A few more of those teasing strokes, a few more taunting repetitions of that give and take, and then he filled me completely.

  He swore in a low, shaky voice, and I whimpered, the muscles in my pussy clamping down around him in a spasmodic series of caresses.

  “If you keep doing that, I might just lose it completely and come like a fucking teenager,” he said, propping his weight on his elbows so he could stare at me.

  Gripping his torso, I wiggled and moved, trying to adjust to the feel of him inside me. It was impossible.

  I’d never experienced anything like this.

  I didn’t know how that was possible, not after having a serious boyfriend for as long as I had, but I felt more exposed, more naked, more vulnerable in this moment with Sean than I’d ever felt with Wylie.

  His cock pulsed again, throbbed. I moaned, and once more tightened around him.

  “Don’t do that,” he said raggedly.

  “I can’t help it.” And I couldn’t, not any more than I could help thrusting up against him, even though he already filled me completely.

  Sean shoved up on to his hands, his hips pinning me completely to the bed. “Tish…” His lashes drifting down, he started to move, slowly at first, then harder, faster.

  Digging my heels into the bed, I rocked up, greedy for more. That storm that had washed over me earlier…I could already feel another one building, and this next one would completely eclipse anything and everything I’d ever known.

  Sean abruptly went still.

  I glared at him, that demand shrieking in howling frustration.

  It went silent as he caught me up against him and rolled to his back, pulling me with him. He urged me upward, his hands on my hips. “Ride me, Tish.”

  Bracing my hands on his chest, I stared down at him. Slowly, I rolled my hips. He arched up. I moved again, and he did the same.

  Flexing my hands, I leaned forward and began to move with more confidence. Sean let go of my hips and slid his hands up to cup my breasts, fingers seeking out my nipples, tugging and rolling them until they were hard, aching points.

  It seemed he’d formed a connection between my nipples and clit, and each time he tugged, I felt an answering pull centered straight between my thighs, one that had my pussy clench and tighten around him, one that made me rock and thrust against him faster, harder.

  He reached up and shoved a hand into my hair, pulling me down so he could kiss me. His free hand went down and caught my ass, kneading the flesh as he drove up into me.

  The orgasm exploded, and I shuddered and moaned and sobbed out into his mouth.

  He murmured something I couldn’t understand before moving, rolling us back over. Sprawling between my thighs, he rocked into me faster, harder. His big body shuddered and shook. I clung to him, exhausted and leveled and so complete by that pleasure, I couldn’t even think.

  Twenty-Four

  Sean

  The dream came again.

  It was more intense.

  It was more…real.

  Isabel was in the car, and the world burned around us. Even though I knew I’d never be able to move, I tried to move my feet—and I did. One foot moved. Then the other.

  I wasn’t able to go any farther, though, because slim arms clamped around me from behind.

  It wasn’t Cormac. I was used to fighting that bastard off in my dreams, or trying to, but these soft, slim arms didn’t belong to him.

  I caught a hint of a familiar scent, something delicate and light…lavender, I realized.

  A scream tore the air.

  “Isabel!” I tried to tear away from the arms restraining me but couldn’t. They simply tightened and held me in place.

  Isabel stared at me through the windshield of the car, clawing at the door, crying out my name, desperate to get out.

  I tried to break free of the hold around my waist.

  “I have to get to her!” I shouted. I couldn’t turn around and look at my captor. I couldn’t make myself. A weight in my chest wouldn’t let me. Maybe that weight was part of why I couldn’t move—that weight was like a ten-ton stone, immobilizing me.

  And in front of me, while I watched helplessly, Isabel burned.

  “Isabel…”

  “Sean, wake up!”

  I jerked upright.

  Sweat drenched me. Soft, strong hands shook me. Silvery light shone in through the window, spilling onto the bed to illuminate Tish’s face. She stared at me with a mix of worry and fear. Her eyes were huge in her face, and she reached up, brushed her fingers down my cheek. “You were having a nightmare.”

  I caught her hand and pressed it to my cheek, my breath coming in hard, ragged bursts.

  Each one hurt my chest, my throat.

  Even the ragged rhythm of my heartbeat seemed painful, slamming into my ribs like the damned organ was wrapped in razor wire, and every time it pulsed inside my chest, that wire dug a little deeper into the already battered, bruised, and bleeding flesh.

  Tish swayed on the bed, then rolled forward onto her knees, reaching up to cup my face between both hands, guiding my head around until I was looking at her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

  The concern in her voice was soft. She was sweet and kind, and I wanted to collapse forward, rest my head in her lap. She’d let me. I bet she’d even stroke those slim, capable fingers through my hair until I fell back asleep.

  I couldn’t force myself to speak. I needed to. I couldn’t just sit there with that dream burning like acid in me. But no words would come.

  Tish slid her hands down and stroked my arms. “It’s okay,” she said as a shudder rocked me. “It was just a dream.”

  It wasn’t, though.

  Not entirely.

  My muscles went rigid. I felt brittle, like the wrong move would break me. Swallowing the bile building up in my throat, I pulled away and slid from the bed. Cool air kissed my bare skin, and I looked down. Abruptly, shame slid through me, and I stormed over to my dresser. Jerking open a drawer, I dragged a pair of joggers out and pulled them on. I turned to see Tish slipping the blanket up, concealing slim, beautiful curves.

  I was still fumbling with some way to talk to her, to say something when she asked in the softest of tones, “Who’s Isabel?”

  I went rigid.

  Tish stared at me solemnly, her face lit only by moonlight. “You said her name twice while I was trying to wake you. It took nearly five minutes it seemed. You were thrashing around and fighting…you sounded terrified. And when you said her name that last time…” She shivered a little, then wrapped her arms around herself. “Who is she, Sean?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I snapped, glaring at her.

  She flinched.

  Guilt was already sinking jagged claws into me, and the sight of blood draining from her face made it worse, but I didn’t apologize. I wouldn’t let myself.

  This had been a mistake.

  Fucking some random stranger was one thing.

  But that wasn’t what this had been.

  “We’re done,” I said shortly, bending over to grab her clothes. I tossed them onto the bed next to her. “You should go back to your room.”

  I braced myself for her reaction.

  Tish blinked slowly, then slid from the bed, gathering up the jeans, shirt, and undergarments I’d tossed at her. “Bathroom’s over there,�
�� I said, jerking my chin toward the door.

  But she ignored me, walking naked past me into the hall.

  I scowled at her and followed, even though I told myself it didn’t matter. Nobody was there, and even if they were, it was her naked ass she was putting on display.

  That wasn’t what bothered me, though.

  It was the sheer emptiness of her expression. Her face was as blank as a doll’s.

  I hated myself a little bit more, and that shouldn’t have been possible.

  But I didn’t say anything, and I didn’t try to stop her.

  Twenty-Five

  Tish

  In retrospect, I probably should have used his bathroom to change, but all I could think about was just getting out, getting away from the dispassionate apathy in his eyes.

  I could still feel the humiliating prickle on my skin, the burn of embarrassment I’d felt as he looked me over and dumped my clothes on the bed. We’re done.

  Like we’d just wrapped up some sort of business transaction.

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d dumped a few twenties on the bed next to my clothes.

  In all honesty, some part of me half-expected it, just from the coldness of his voice. That was why I’d left so quickly, why I hadn’t lingered, even long enough to get dressed. I wasn’t about to risk any more embarrassment at his hands.

  Once inside my room, I dumped the clothes into the laundry basket, burying them so I wouldn’t have to see them later, then I gathered up some pajamas and hurried into the shower. Turning up the water as hot as I could stand it, I showered, scrubbing my skin with a loofah sponge until I was bright pink all over. My skin stung a little when I climbed out, and I still felt like I could smell him on me.

  “No, you can’t,” I muttered. To further convince myself, I used the lavender-scented body oil and smoothed it across my skin before slipping on my pajamas. I spent twenty minutes blow-drying my hair, brushing it with long, patient strokes, closing my eyes so I could pretend it was my mother doing it, the way she’d done when I was a child.

  When the tears started to fall, I didn’t bother wiping them away.

  My emotions had been hovering just under the surface all day—for several days, probably, and now all that raw emptiness was exposed, torn open by Sean’s callousness.

  I knew it wasn’t entirely his fault.

  It wasn’t like he was to blame for the pain I’d been living with since my parents died.

  But I’d been empty and hurting for so long, and for some stupid reason, I’d given into that neediness earlier, and when he kissed me, I hadn’t turned him away like I should have.

  No.

  I’d given in.

  And then he’d fucked me and basically thrown me out.

  There’s more to it than that, a small voice inside chided.

  “I don’t care,” I muttered. Turning off the blow dryer, I put it up and gave my hair one final brush.

  Feeling naked and vulnerable, I stared in the mirror. My blue eyes were now red, tears streaking down my face. Angry with myself, I swiped them away.

  I’d been stupid and careless.

  There were reasons I didn’t like to be careless. Carelessness led to mistakes. Caution helped one avoid such things.

  If I’d been cautious earlier, I could have avoided this mistake, and I wouldn’t be hurting like this.

  In that moment, I desperately missed my mother.

  Turning away from the mirror, I moved into the bedroom and turned off the lights. Lost and empty, I slid under the covers and grabbed one of the fat, fluffy pillows, pulling it to my chest.

  It didn’t do anything to ease the ache inside.

  I missed my mother.

  I missed my father.

  I wanted them both back desperately, but just then, I would have given anything—anything—to have my mom with me so I could cuddle up next to her and have her hug me close, ask me what was wrong.

  “I was stupid, Mama,” I whispered.

  Tears burned my eyes and leaked out.

  “I was lonely, and I thought maybe I’d just have one night where I wasn’t alone, and now it’s even worse than before.”

  What would she tell me?

  I had no idea.

  I’d never been in this position before, had never acted so recklessly and put myself in a position to be hurt.

  You learned a lesson, I decided. That’s what she’d say. And it hurt.

  And she’d hug me close and tell me she was sorry, that life was sometimes shitty, and it wasn’t fair that pain sometimes came along with the lessons we needed to learn.

  The thought of her soft, understanding voice murmuring that in my ear made me cry even more.

  I didn’t even try to stop the tears.

  Sometimes, the only thing to do was let them come and ride out the storm.

  I woke with my head, heart, and body aching.

  My throat wasn’t feeling all that great either.

  Sunshine glared into my eyes, and I lifted a hand to block it out, confused. I had my alarm set to go off every morning at seven-thirty but judging by the angle of the sunlight shining in my eyes, it was way past seven-thirty.

  I fumbled on the table for my phone but came up empty.

  Slowly, I sat up and looked around. Tumbled, tangled hair fell into my eyes. I pushed it back and impatiently fought my way out of the twisted sheets and blankets.

  The pounding in my head only increased, and once I was able to sit on the edge of the bed, I took a few moments and did just that, whimpering a little as the pounding increased.

  Memories from the past night pieced themselves together, and I swallowed. The rawness of my throat made more sense now. I’d bawled my eyes out, crying myself to sleep. The crying jag accounted for both my headache and the sore throat.

  As for the soreness of my body…

  With a sigh, I lifted my head to stare at my reflection in the large mirror hanging over the bureau across the room.

  The expression of disgust was quite appropriate, I decided. It suited how I felt right down to a T.

  I was disgusted with myself for just about everything that had happened last night, from the time Sean had kissed me to the moment I’d finally fallen asleep.

  I should have pushed him away.

  I hadn’t.

  I shouldn’t have slept with him.

  I had.

  I should have expected him to lash out.

  When he did, I reacted like a kicked puppy.

  Then I’d spent a good hour, at least, crying like a girl who’d been dumped on prom night.

  All because he’d acted exactly as he had from the beginning. How could I let that hurt me?

  It didn’t make any sense.

  Sean was acting as he had from pretty much the beginning. The moment anyone tried to get close or help him, he shoved them away. He’d been vulnerable after the nightmare, and I’d witnessed it. Of course, he was going to act badly over it.

  I should have expected it.

  Looking at it through a filter of a few hours, it was a little easier to set that pain aside.

  Last night had been an aberration. I’d been hurting and vulnerable too. I couldn’t completely absolve myself of responsibility, but I was human.

  I was allowed to have weaknesses.

  I’d learned my lesson, and it wouldn’t happen again.

  But even as I sat there, heat bloomed through my belly, hot enough to scorch even now, and I gripped the edge of the mattress, curling my fingers into it as I fought to steady my breathing.

  Sex with Wylie had never been like that.

  Sean had done more to turn me on with a single kiss than Wylie had managed through kisses, foreplay, and even intercourse.

  “He’s clearly had a lot of practice,” I muttered, needing to hear the words voiced out loud. “Remember what Ayiesha told you.” I thought of the way I’d seen him flirting with people at the sports bar, how he’d tried to lure me in that first night I’d seen h
im. Not even an hour later, he’d been leaving with another woman entirely. “The guy’s a playboy.”

  And he’d dissolved the bones inside me like they were just putty.

  Huffing out a breath, I pushed off the bed.

  “Sex,” I told myself. “It was just sex.”

  Sex with a guy I found myself thinking about way too often, yes.

  But still…it was just sex.

  Once more, a pang of longing hit me. I wanted my mother. I wanted somebody to talk to, damn it, and all my life, the person I’d talked to the most had been my mother. I’d had friends, but nobody I’d been that close to. Nobody like her.

  I’d never regretted that, but now I found myself wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have worked on building deeper friendships with others. If I had, at least I’d have somebody to reach out to now.

  “Brooding isn’t going to help,” I told myself. Squaring my shoulders, I made myself climb out of bed. Muscles twinged in protest, aching in ways I hadn’t ever ached. Sex with Wylie paled in comparison to what I’d experienced last night.

  Damn Sean for ruining it too.

  I hadn’t been expecting him to fall onto his knees and start making profound confessions or anything, but I also hadn’t expected him to be such an outright jerk about things either.

  We’re done.

  Disgusted with myself all over, I strode into the bathroom and peeled off my pajamas. Even though I’d only worn them once, I stuffed them into the hamper, studiously avoiding thoughts about the last pieces of clothing I’d buried.

  Pinning up my hair, I climbed into the shower and turned the hot water up. Even though I’d practically scalded my skin off the night before, I spent a good ten minutes under the spray trying to ease tight, stiff muscles, trying to wash away the memories of the night.

  I succeeded, partially, when it came to easing the muscle aches.

  As for the second…well, I had a feeling only time would help there.

  After showering and getting dressed, I spent a good thirty minutes searching my room for my phone and coming up short. My face heated as I thought of where it most likely was. Approaching Sean to ask if it was in his room pretty much topped the list of things I didn’t want to do.