Break the Sky

by Nina Lane

  “Give those to me.”

  He shook his head and put the glasses on the bedside table. I made another grab for them. He grasped my wrist, and his fingers circled it like a manacle.

  “Archer!”

  “Your hand belongs right here.” He slowly but insistently brought my hand to the front of his trousers.

  Blood rushed to my head. His grip tightened on my wrist. I spread my fingers out tentatively to cup the big, hard bulge pressing against his thigh.

  Holy mother of god. A bolt of lust fired through me, centering in my core. My mouth went dry. I ran my hand over his length, wondering at the sheer size of it, trepidation already snaking through my belly.

  He pushed his hips toward me. “Take it out.”

  Trembling, breathless, I unfastened his fly and tugged his trousers down his thighs. He wore boxer briefs that hugged his lean hips and did nothing to conceal the massive ridge of his erection. A thousand second, third, and fourth thoughts blistered through my mind. I sat back and just stared.

  He started to unbutton his shirt. I felt the sheer burn of his gaze on me. Unearthing some latent courage, I lifted my eyes. My heart crashed.

  Beautiful. Oh, he was beautiful, his torso defined with muscles so sleek and rigid they looked as if a master artist had sculpted them. His shoulders were smooth and tense, his corded arms dusted with dark hair. Enhancing the beauty of his body were the elaborate tattoos inking his right shoulder, the design flowing up from the bird’s wing coiled around his upper arm.

  I was too enthralled by the utter perfection of him to study the tattoos I hadn’t yet seen. Instead I let my gaze follow the slopes of his shoulders over his powerful chest, the ridges of his abdomen, down to where a line of hair disappeared beneath his boxer briefs.

  I was shaking. Hard.

  I tried to remember that I was a woman known for getting shit done. Taking a breath, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs. My heart hammered as I pulled them down his legs.

  I moaned. I actually moaned at the sight of it—his gorgeous, stiff cock projecting straight out. I wrapped my hand around the shaft, feeling the veins pulsing beneath his smooth, tight skin. Slowly I moved my hand up to the damp head, darkened to a deep red, and swept my thumb over the crevice at the tip. I squeezed my thighs together as I tried to imagine all that hot, hard flesh filling me.

  “On your knees.” His voice was dark and smoky.

  Unthinking, I slid to the floor in front of him. His hand pressed against the back of my head. Gentle but insistent. Blood rushed into my ears.

  “Open,” he murmured.

  I opened my mouth. He slowly pushed inside, past my lips, the taste of him flooding my tongue. He stilled, his breath rasping above me, his fingers stroking the back of my neck.

  I could do this. I remembered how. By all accounts, I used to be pretty good at it, too. Except this was Archer West, a man who had crashed into my life like a lightning bolt and set it afire. I had the growing, unnerving sense that nothing would ever be the same again. Including me.

  I closed my lips around his cock and sucked. His shaft throbbed, a beat that seemed to echo in my blood. I grasped the base and slid my lips as far as I could, stroking my tongue over the underside. His body tensed, and his fingers tightened on the back of my neck.

  I moved one hand to cup the weight of his sac, tight and hard, before easing back and letting him slide out. I pressed a kiss to the smooth head and started to draw him in again. He clenched his fingers on my neck. I stopped.

  “I’m going to fuck your mouth,” he said.

  My trepidation increased. But I relaxed my jaw, my throat, and took a breath before he thrust. I squirmed. Oh, it felt good. His thick cock pumping in and out of my mouth, his hand gripping my neck. Above me, his breath sawed through the air. The salty, male taste of him spread over my tongue.

  “Pretty mouth,” he whispered, brushing my hair away from my forehead, sliding his hand down my cheek. “You want more?”

  I pulled back only long enough to nod. I wanted more than more. I wanted everything he could give me. I wanted to find out just how much I could take.

  He buried his hands in my hair, his fingers digging into my scalp as he pushed into my mouth again. I pressed my tongue against the vein throbbing on the underside of his cock. A groan rumbled his chest.

  He moved back, letting me slide my lips up the shaft again, licking the tip before I looked up at him. From my position kneeling on the floor, he was bigger and more intimidating than ever, his eyes intense and his tattoos blazing.

  “One day soon I’ll come in your mouth,” he said, grasping my arms to pull me to my feet. “But right now I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”

  A wave of heat poured through me. I backed up until my legs hit the bed, and then I fell backward, my arms spread out at my sides.

  Archer’s gaze raked over me. I was so aroused I couldn’t even muster up any embarrassment over how I must look with my chemise half off, my lips swollen, and my legs already spread—a messy, disheveled slut aching to be fucked.

  He undressed, pulling off his shoes and socks, pushing his trousers and briefs to the floor. Before kicking them aside, he reached into his pants pocket.

  “It’s okay.” I struggled to push up to my elbows. “I’m… I’m protected, and I want… I want to feel you…”

  He pushed his clothes aside and moved to the side of the bed. He grabbed my legs and tugged me toward him. Sweat glistened on his muscular chest. His eyes burned into mine.

  “I won’t be gentle,” he warned.

  Anxiety twisted in my belly. “I know.”

  He grabbed the top of my chemise, which had been pushed down to my midriff. With one tug, he ripped the thin material right off me. My heart slammed against my chest. I was naked. Completely. He pressed his hands against my inner thighs and pushed them apart.

  Oh, god. The preliminaries were over.

  Archer took hold of his cock and pushed inside me, slipping past the entrance of my body. My breath stuck in my throat. I arched my back and spread my legs wider, opening for him. He hissed out a noise of pleasure and put his hands on my bent knees as he thrust hard.

  “Oh!” The cry ripped from me as he surged, filling me, stretching me.

  I squirmed backward instinctively, like I was trying to escape an invasion, drenched in sudden, overwhelming chaos. Archer clutched my waist and forced me down onto his cock. I shrieked. He thrust again. Our bodies slammed together.

  I couldn’t take it. It was too much, he was too big…

  “Take it deep,” he whispered harshly.

  I twisted, unable to think past this onslaught of sensations, my hands fisting in the bedspread.

  “I knew you’d like it rough,” he continued, and his voice was like a hot, drenching rainstorm pouring over me. “Ah, you’re tight… grip my cock hard… that’s it… Christ, you’re so fucking sexy all spread open and hot.”

  I tried to drag air into my tight lungs. He throbbed inside me. So hard. If he moved again… he pulled back and thrust, jarring me to the core. A whimper escaped me. Sweat ran down my neck, my breasts.

  He climbed onto the bed, pushing between my legs and coming over me like a thundercloud. He grabbed my wrists, pinning my hands to the bed, his flat belly hitting mine, his hair-roughened legs abrading my thighs.

  I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. I only wanted to feel his weight, his incredible strength, his thrusts inside of me. So good. More than good. More than I’d ever imagined.

  I strained against him, bucking my hips as if trying to dislodge him. He was locked tight against me, his powerful body pressing me into the mattress, trapping me. He shifted, thrusting again and again and again, the friction of his cock driving my tension to breaking point. My body writhed beneath his, my legs aching from the strain of being spread so wide apart.

  His grip clenched on my wrists. My breasts rubbed against his chest with every surge. Electric currents streamed thro
ugh my blood, lighting me on fire.

  He increased the rhythm of his thrusts, pounding into me so hard that the headboard slammed against the wall and all I could do was concentrate on accepting his heavy thrusts. I tightened my legs around his hips, moaning every time he surged into me, my fists clenching and unclenching, my wrists still trapped in his grip.

  “Come on, storm girl.” His hot breath caressed my cheek, my neck, his chest a solid wall of sweat-slick muscles against my breasts. “Show me how hard you can come.”

  Oh, god. I barely felt that final tipping over the edge into bliss. I only knew that my world exploded with the sudden intensity of a supernova, and I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything about it. I was helpless, capable only of taking this man’s cock deep into my body, unable to silence the scream that tore from the very center of my being as I shattered beneath him.

  All thought broke apart. His voice was a low rumble against my ear, but I couldn’t make out his words past the dizziness in my head. He was still pumping into me, still rock-hard, and he was so big it was starting to hurt, but I wanted it to go on and on, never ending. My muscles ached. Everything inside me throbbed.

  He released my wrists. I groaned as blood rushed back into my arms with tingles and prickles. Archer planted his hands on either side of my head and stared down at me, his face a hard mask of restrained, burning lust. His eyes were so black I couldn’t see the brown of his pupils. I licked my dry lips. His mouth came down on mine, hot and possessive

  “You want more?” he murmured, low and deep.

  Heat flooded me anew. My throat constricted.

  “I want more,” I whispered against his mouth.

  He lifted his head and got to his knees, putting his hands on my inner thighs as he plunged into me again, all hot, sweaty, demanding male. More than I could handle. More than I could take.

  My face was wet. I pressed my hands to my eyes. I was fucking crying.

  Archer put his hand on my damp torso and slid it down to my clit. I jerked in reaction when he splayed his fingers over the sensitive flesh. He murmured something and stroked, urging me higher.

  This time, the wave trembled low in my belly before it spiraled outward in ripples of sensation. I gripped Archer’s forearms, shuddering as I tightened my body around his cock.

  “Inside me,” I pleaded, digging my fingers into his arms, urging him to lie on top of me again, positive he was the only solid element left in the world. “I want… need you to come inside me. I want to feel it.”

  “You’ll feel it,” he growled, increasing the pace, his pelvis slamming against mine. “And you’ll take it all, as deep as you can… squeeze your pussy tighter… you feel so damn good, baby… fucking incredible.”

  He plunged into me with a groan, his muscles tensing and contracting, and then his seed filled me. Shivers raced across my skin. Archer lowered himself on top of me, heavy and damp, his face against my shoulder, and his chest heaving.

  I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Tears still stung my eyes. I blinked them back furiously, refusing to let them fall again.

  Slowly Archer rolled off me and onto his back. He threw his arm over his face, still breathing hard. I moved away from him, realizing I didn’t have anything within reach that I could put on. I started to ease off the bed when his arm clamped around my waist from behind.

  “Archer, I—”

  The words stopped in my throat as he dragged me back to him. With a low mutter, he pulled me hard against his side, burying his face in my hair. The bulk of his body blocked out everything but the heat of his skin and the smell of sex. He draped his arm around my shoulders and his leg across my hips. Trapping me.

  Or… enveloping me. Before I could figure out which, his body shifted into the heavy rhythm of sleep.

  And, before long, so did mine.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  KELSEY

  ARCHER WAS GONE WHEN I WOKE the next morning. He hadn’t left a note or even made a pot of coffee, a fact for which I was inordinately grateful. I didn’t want any thoughtful little gestures. I just wanted some time to get my head together, and it was a relief to be left alone.

  I was sore, of course, the pulsing between my legs reminding me of him with every step. I took a bath and scrubbed our mingled scents off my skin. Because I didn’t have to be on campus until my late-afternoon office hours, I spent the morning lounging around in a dreamy sort of haze. I logged in to my computer and tried to get some work done, but my brain was so fuzzy that all my thoughts kept slipping away.

  The only work I did was changing a light bulb on my computer desk. I went to the basement to retrieve a box of new bulbs, which were stamped with a corporate logo and the words Edison Power Company.

  Something tickled the back of my mind. Edison. Archer had used Thomas Edison’s invention of the light bulb to shut down my condescending colleagues.

  Feeling a sudden kinship with old Mr. Edison and his string of failures, I changed the bulb and returned the box to the basement. I went online again and looked up Edison Power, curious about the structure and programs of the corporation.

  Grant-Funding Opportunities.

  I clicked the link on the menu bar and read about the grants and proposals Edison Power had recently funded. Nothing meteorological. I knew power companies were heavily invested in improved weather forecasting, as sudden storms, hurricanes, and tornados could damage electrical grids and impact power in urban areas.

  Edison Power hadn’t funded anything weather-related, though that didn’t necessarily mean they wouldn’t. Maybe.

  Somewhat heartened, I got dressed and walked to the Wonderland Café. It was past two, so I’d missed the lunch crowd, and the place was relatively quiet.

  I sat in an empty seat at the counter just as Liv came out of the kitchen with a tray of edible teacups and ice-cream sandwiches.

  “Oh, hey, Kels,” she said. “Hold on a sec. Let me drop these off.” She hurried past to distribute the food, then returned to the counter and poured me a glass of water. “What’s going on?”

  “Just thought I’d drop by for lunch.”

  “Oh.” She looked vaguely disappointed. “I thought you were here to meet Archer.”

  My heart did a ridiculous sort of twirl that irritated me. “Why would I come here to meet Archer?”

  Liv blinked at my annoyed tone. “He’s upstairs. Said he wanted lunch too, so I thought you were meeting him.”

  Heart twirl. Again.

  “Archer is here?” I asked.

  “Upstairs.” Liv nodded to the stairs, eyeing me with speculation.

  “Liv, we got the new birthday party brochures in.” Allie Lyons came through the kitchen doors, her red hair swinging in a ponytail. “Hi, Kelsey.”

  “Hey, Allie.”

  “Check them out.” She handed the brochures to me and Liv, then turned to the cash register.

  I opened a brochure and pretended to study it. Liv glanced at me, leaning her elbows on the counter. I sensed what was coming.

  “So if you’re not here to meet him, tell me… how was the date?” she whispered, all brown-eyed curiosity.

  “Date?” Allie turned from the register. “Kelsey went on a date? With who?”

  “Whom,” I corrected. I guessed Liv’s question meant that Dean hadn’t told her about finding Archer at my house.

  “Archer West,” Liv told Allie, ignoring my death glare. “That’s whom.”

  “Really?” Allie looked at me with awe. “You went out with Professor Hottie’s brother?”

  “And he wore a suit and tie,” Liv added.

  “Oh, wow.” Allie shook her head, as if that image was too much to bear. “Where did you go? What did you do? Did he kiss you?”

  “Answer that last one first,” Liv suggested.

  I took a sip of water and tried to keep glaring at both of them, which wasn’t easy in the onslaught of their unbearably cute eagerness.

  “He came with me to a university dinner because
Dean couldn’t go,” I told Allie. “There was nothing romantic about it.”

  “Oh.” She looked disappointed. “You know he’s here, right? Archer, I mean. The girls almost got into a catfight over who’d get to serve him. What room is he in, Liv?”

  “Castle Room.” Liv was looking at me with way too much perceptiveness. “Hey, Allie, could you get Kelsey her usual?”

  “Sure thing.” Allie turned and went back into the kitchen.

  Liv leaned closer to me. “What’s going on with Archer?”

  “Dean didn’t tell you?”

  “He said Archer was at your place the morning after your date.”

  It was just like Liv not to have called me immediately, demanding to know all the details. She knew some things were private.

  “Dean wasn’t all that happy about it,” I admitted.

  “He has reason not to be,” Liv said. “But he also knows you, and he knows when to back off.”

  I rubbed my finger across a crack in the counter. Though I’d told myself a hundred times that I was making up my own mind about Archer West, I was still on very shaky ground after last night. And Liv was one of the few people I trusted most in the world.

  “What do you think of Archer?” I asked.

  She was quiet for a minute.

  “I think he got a raw deal,” she said. “That he was blamed for something that wasn’t his fault and that he’s probably made a lot of bad choices because of it. And I think he got stuck in a downward spiral he didn’t know how to get out of. But I also think he’s a good guy at heart. He’s Dean’s brother. I think he just got lost somewhere along the way.”

  I knew all about getting lost.

  I stared at my glass. A drop of water ran down the side.

  “So… um, if I were to start something with Archer… you know, theoretically…” My mind flashed with images of me spread out on the bed with him. I cleared my throat. “…you wouldn’t tell me I was making a mistake?”

  Amusement flashed in Liv’s eyes. “I would never presume to tell Kelsey March she was making a mistake.”