Broken Enagement

by Gage Grayson

“Fuck me, Jaxon. Please fuck me.”

  He stands up, slowly. He keeps his eyes on mine and doesn’t let me look down as he opens his pants. The jumpsuit opens all the way down the front, and it takes him a few seconds to undo it.

  He looks right at me the whole time.

  I grin and undo my blouse, opening it to reveal my black, lacy bra.

  He leans down and caresses my breasts with his lips and tongue, rolling them gently from beneath with his hands. Not looking for the nipples—which are hard and tight and begging for his touch—just worshipping my skin with his tongue as his hands graze the undersides in the silky fabric.

  One hand snakes around my back. The other I can feel, down low, between my legs. He lifts me, head still in my breasts.

  I know what’s coming next.

  I’m scared. God, I can’t help it, I’m scared.

  I feel him fiddling with his hand, low between my thighs. Then he shifts the hand around my waist, and I feel it.

  Warm, so warm. I didn’t think it would be this hot. But it is.

  Hot and hard and slowly driving into me, sliding on my wetness.

  He lowers me slowly, his hips coming up until I’m pinned between his hips and the wall. He waits until he is all the way in, no space between us, before he looks up.

  He raises one slightly sticky hand to stroke my hair out of my face.

  “Okay?”

  He looks so sweet. So beautiful. I feel my muscles clench, right along the shaft of his cock, and it’s a sensation so delicious, I feel it happening again and again, all by itself.

  “What is that?” I gasp, barely able to speak.

  He laughs, a sound of pure joy. “That, my darling, is a multiple orgasm. Never had one before?”

  I shake my head, feeling my pussy muscles clenching and softening around his hardness.

  There’s an ache as my pussy clamps down on his hard cock. Something right. Instinctive in its perfection.

  The hand around my waist creeps up to the small of my back. He buries his face in my breasts, and I lean back against the wall, opening my legs. Letting him support me with the weight from his hips and his bent legs.

  Then, he starts to thrust.

  Jaxon

  There’s no way my cock could get any harder.

  I’ve got one arm around her slender, gorgeous little waist, the other around her shoulders. I keep my face buried in her shoulder and chest as I thrust hard from the hips, jerking her against the wall.

  I grip her between my arms hard, so hard that she bends and gasps. Her pussy is drenched, just dripping for me, and—despite whatever it is her head is thinking—her body wants this. It’s like her pussy lips and deep clenching muscles are inviting me in, begging to be pounded and slammed by my hardness.

  My bent legs are starting to ache along the back from being half-bent and holding her weight. I don’t give a fuck.

  I bring both hands to her waist and lean back so I can get an even harder thrust. Her eyes are half closed, head swaying against the wall as I fuck her.

  When she whispered, so sweetly, that she had never been with a man before, I almost blew my stack right there. Everything so far had been a tease—sparks meant to inflame her desire.

  I wanted her to choose me of her own will. I didn’t want to force her. I wanted her to give.

  Only then did I take her.

  “Ali,” I groan, slamming my hips against her, thrusting upwards hard, and straightening my legs to force myself in as far as I will go.

  She grabs my shoulders and writhes, making small cries. I let her slide gently down the wall as I bend my knees again, my hot, hard cock drawing out of her easily.

  She looks at me, eyes fluttering. “W-why did you stop?”

  I step back. “Would you take off the bra for me?” I run my hand over her tits, just lightly. Loving the warm, damp skin and the soft touch of the lace on top.

  She takes a small step forward, loosening the blouse from her shoulders and letting it slide down her arms. She reaches behind, and I see the cups go loose. She lets the bra drop.

  Her tits are much bigger than I thought they would be. Perfectly white and round, with strawberry pink nipples. Nipples that are puckered and hard.

  I lean down, using my hands to push them up into my mouth, trying to ravage both at once. One hand slips down into her wet pussy, fingers sliding between clit and cunt.

  It just doesn’t get any better than this.

  Or maybe it does.

  “Put it in me again. Jaxon, please! It’s like I’m hurting inside.”

  I can’t help it—I laugh, nipples sliding out of my mouth. I look into her eyes, and they are blank with desire.

  I pull her towards me, turning so I can push her to the armchair in the center of the room. She throws her hands out and grabs it to hold herself up.

  Leaving her gorgeous ass up and exposed, exactly as I hoped. I stroke her hips, lightly, as I run the skirt up around her waist.

  I push my cock against her wet pussy, not putting it in, just teasing her opening with the head. I do this a couple of times until she cries out, clawing at the chair, rocking her hips.

  “Put it in, Jaxon! Please!” She’s really gasping and crying now, hips twisting from side to side.

  I grab her hips and slide my cock into her tight, virgin hole.

  Oh, the thought that I am the first. The only.

  This. Is. Mine!

  I watch as I slide my cock in—slowly, watching the hardness of me pushing apart those soft wet lips. I slide in all the way until I can go no further, and then I hold the position.

  She starts to squirm, trying to relieve the pressure of my cock so deep in her and the burning desire of her outer lips, always hungry for more friction.

  I keep her pinned against the chair, as hard as I can.

  “Say I’m the first.”

  “Huh?” she moans in response.

  I jerk my hips hard against her, feeling my cock grinding against the end of her cunt. “Say I’m the first.”

  She moans, letting out small cries as she twists her hips. “You’re the first! I swear!”

  I rock back, giving her release, then slam back in again.

  “Say I’m the only.”

  “You’re my first! My only! Jaxon, please!”

  I stretch my head back, feeling trickles of pleasure running through my body. An emotional release, while my cock is hard and high, deep inside her.

  I grab her hips, thrusting hard, long and fast. I feel her pussy shivering from deep inside, getting wetter as her muscles clutch at me. Every deep, shuddering tremble brings cries of delight and surprise as she claws at the arm chair, legs opening wider to let me in.

  I slow down, enjoying the long strokes.

  She’s whimpering. I don’t want to finish like this. I slide out and stand up, pulling her with me and turning her around.

  Her mouth is deep red, her eyes watery, cheeks flushed. Her hair drifts around her like it has a life of its own.

  “I want to look in your eyes while I come.”

  She nods, seeming to understand. I swing the armchair around and fall into it, pulling the jumpsuit off my upper body. Her eyes roam over my hard muscles, one hand to her mouth as she looks over me, eyes finally resting on my cock.

  She stares at it, coming closer. I hold it up for her from the base, hard and pointing at the ceiling. Some men wish for length. Others for width.

  What the fuck should I care, when god gave me both?

  She stares are my cock, reaching out hesitantly.

  “Suck on it,” I whisper, like we’re two virgins hiding under the bleachers.

  She looks up at me, cheeky smile flashing across her face. She leans forward and gently rolls her tongue across the head. Sampling it. Taking it into her mouth, just an inch.

  “It’s so big!” she exclaims. “I can’t fit it in.”

  “I’ll help you.” My voice is catching in my throat. Dear god, does she have any idea how hot she is?<
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  She puts her lips around the end, sucking uncertainly, rubbing her tongue along the base of the shaft. I put one hand on the back of her head, fingers sliding in her hair, and push her head down, thrusting my hips up.

  Once. Twice. Third time, really deep, hold her there for a second, then let her go.

  She comes up gasping, gagging for air. Eyes watering. She gives me a hurt, pouty look that makes me want to shove it back down her throat.

  “I…I don’t know about that.”

  “Sorry, baby,” I whisper, reaching out a hand. “I forgot how inexperienced you were. You have plenty of time to learn.”

  Yes, I feel a sick twist of dominance over that. It’s a very special elixir, running through my bones.

  She nods, looking back at my cock.

  “Just climb on. You can still feel it…throbbing, right up in your pussy, can’t you?”

  She nods.

  “That means we’re not done, honey. Climb on.”

  She puts her hands on the arms, sliding up one knee, then the other. She pulls up her skirt as she lowers herself.

  I reach down and direct my cock, feeling how wet and slippery she is. She grips the back of the armchair as she slowly impales herself.

  “Oh-o-oh!” She closes her eyes as she presses her body against mine, cock all the way in.

  I feel her pussy start clenching and shuddering again, and she trembles from the core outward. Her head is still thrown up, eyes closed, as she begins to rise up and down. Faster.

  “Hey,” I try to get her attention.

  She keeps her eyes closed, head up, as she focuses on the sensation of my cock and the delicious friction inside. I’m getting closer.

  “Hey!” I snap, forcing her to look at me. I grab her hips as she stops, eyes wide.

  “I told you. I want to see your eyes.”

  She looks right at me, a flash of uncertainty across her features. She kind of flops in my lap, eyes fixed on mine like a deer in headlights.

  “Good,” I whisper, one arm around her hips. The other hand snakes between us, thumb pressing against her clit as I look her deep in the eyes, and start thrusting with my hips.

  She sits still, letting me control the motion as I force the friction in between my arm and hips, rubbing her clit. She gasps, grabbing my shoulders, as her clit quakes and her deep insides spasm.

  “Yes,” I growl as I fuck her, holding her tight with my arm, rocking my hips into hers, fiercely rubbing her clit.

  “Yes, come for me. Come for me, Ali, come!”

  I thrust into her so hard, I almost throw us off the chair as her arms grip my shoulders and she trembles all over, hips going loose, goosebumps appearing up her spine and down her arms and legs. My cock is pumping deep inside her, mixing our juices, joining us as one being.

  She collapses against me, arms loosely around my shoulders.

  “Jaxon. Oh, Jaxon. I…you’re incredible.”

  I pull her tight against me, crushing her sweet weight into my chest, smiling wide at the words she almost said. The time for that will come. Even still…

  She’s mine.

  Alison

  What have I done?

  Much like on my way in, my leaving the prison is to the soundtrack of a persistent refrain.

  What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?

  One minute, I have power, and I’m in control, and the next—I’m undone.

  One minute, we’re patient and doctor, and the next, we’re fucking in my office like rabbits, ethical codes be damned.

  I’m still shocked that no one heard us. I was able to straighten my office and my clothes, then coolly escort him back down into the prison. A model of professional conduct even as I felt his cum slide into my underwear.

  The memory makes me shudder with a fresh flame of desire.

  I’m not sure what possessed me, but I couldn’t control myself. Can’t seem to, even now, away from temptation. My body doesn’t feel like my own.

  However, with distance from Jaxon Covington comes at least some degree of clarity.

  Stopped at a red light, I bury my face in my hands.

  Oh, god.

  What have I done?

  I was right: he’s a collapsed star, a cosmic void—and I just crossed the event horizon.

  I might have been staring into it when I plucked him from Gen Pop for his surprise session, but I passed the point of no return when he rammed his cock down my throat. Because even though I gagged and it made me a bit sick, I liked it.

  There’s no turning back now. And even if I could take it all back…

  I’m not sure I want to.

  And that’s what scares me.

  As a student of psychiatry as well as psychology, I respect drugs. However, unlike many of my peers, I’ve never dabbled in street drugs.

  But as I drive home from work, I feel drugged.

  I feel full and empty at the same time. I’m utterly exhausted, yet I’m…edgy and filled with an almost manic energy. I want to scream and laugh and gorge myself on honey and vanilla ice cream.

  I want to turn the car around to go fuck him all over again.

  While everyone watches.

  I want to weep.

  Instead, I just drive.

  In a sense, I guess I am drugged. I’m still riding an adrenaline and orgasm high after my brain’s repeated flooding of estrogen, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, and oxytocin—lust, attraction, and orgasms, respectively.

  I flatten my hands on the steering wheel and watch, mystified, as they tremor. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Never in my entire life have I ever felt so, so…out of control.

  I grip the wheel until my knuckles turn white, as if I’m grasping at the last vestiges of who I was. No matter how hard I grip, I still feel as if my old self is slipping away.

  I make my way back up to my apartment with all of my files and go through my post-arrival customs—purse on hook, keys in bowl, shoes by door, files on table.

  But everything feels surreal—no, absurd. I’m attempting to maintain the monotony of everyday while my life is imploding, like the doomed star I fell in love with.

  I stop short.

  Love?

  Do I really love him?

  Is it even possible?

  Is it just my chemical-laced brain making me feel this way? Sex can do that. I would know, I’m a doctor.

  I hear laughter and find myself leaning against my kitchen counter, trying to hold myself upright as I shake from mirthless, unhinged giggles.

  How stupid and foolish can I be to fall in love with someone who is more than likely incapable of loving me back?

  Pretty damn stupid, it seems. And it feels like a sucker punch to the gut.

  Then suddenly, I’m on the floor, and it feels like an entire lifetime’s worth of emotions is pouring out of me.

  I just had sex with a possible psychopath. And it wasn’t just sex, but “losing my virginity” sex.

  Despite knowing virginity is a social construct placed on women by the patriarchy, it still feels deeply personal and profound. It meant something to me and to have allowed myself to be deflowered by such a violent criminal seems not only unwise, but excessively reckless.

  And I am neither of those things.

  Usually.

  Tears are pouring down my face as I rock myself on the cold tiles of my kitchen floor in an attempt to self-soothe. The enormity of what I have just done has finally hit me, and with it came a fresh fount of conflicting emotions.

  But it was so good. Yet at the same time, what we did was also so incredibly wrong— socially, professionally, and ethically. Morally, too, depending on whom one asks.

  Once again, I find myself strangely flustered, unable to organize my thoughts.

  My brain—formerly a cleanly compartmentalized space, a paradigm of organization, and clear, concise thinking machine—now feels like the jumbled mess of my patient’s. Not only that, but I also seem wholly incapable of logical, reason
ed discourse.

  Even with myself.

  I am all emotion. My ego and superego have fled.

  Because despite the fact that he lies to me at every turn about everything; despite not knowing a single thing about him, outside of what’s found in his file, half of which I think is false anyway; despite the fact that he’s violent, conniving, manipulative, arrogant, narcissistic, and remorseless…

  And despite ethics and reason and rational thinking…

  I want him.

  Jaxon

  The next day, I’m enjoying a nice lie-down in my bunk, reading a newspaper. The other guys bring me anything I need, and I’ve allowed that old dog to resume his business under the stairwell.

  Why not? I’m a nice guy. People need their drugs.

  I’m wondering if any news can interest me when I see Bear wandering by.

  “Hey there, old buddy! What you doing down here in the tough guys room?” I throw down the newspaper and move to the door.

  “I just wanted to show my gratitude.” Bear is trying to smile wide, but his throat is still bruised, and he winces with each word and expression. He leans in, speaking quietly.

  “I know you’re rich. I know you do good by your people. I’m real sorry I said something wrong, so I just wanted to made up for it.”

  He presents me with a bottle of aged country brandy and an exquisitely worked crystal glass. He beams proudly, even though it must hurt around the bruises on his face.

  “From my own private stock. The brandy was my granddaddy’s.”

  I take a close look at the bottle. Aged brandy, a good century old.

  “Thank you.” I look back at Bear. “Really. I appreciate this. Even with my resources, things like this are difficult to find. Especially in a hellhole like this.” I give him a big grin.

  “Like I said, Mr. Covington, sir, just want to show my appreciation. If at any time you see fit to come through on the promises you made, I’ll be mighty happy about it. Now I better run along before they miss me upstairs.”

  I wave my hand dismissively, still looking at the label on the brandy. I have a look at the nicely cut glass in the light. Benny shows up a few seconds later as I’m looking at the glass.