33
Broadway
T he bedroom door bursts open, abruptly yanking me from sleep. There’s a gun in my hand before the intruder’s stepped one foot in. The light flickers on. The barrel firmly aimed at their chest jerks round toward the wall, aiming as far from the girl standing in the doorway as my arm allows.
“I—I’m sorry, I—” Violet stutters, her porcelain skin even paler, eyes wide.
“Don’t ever do that again.” I jump out of bed, dropping the gun back in my bedside drawer. “I could’ve hurt you.” I cross the room in three purposeful strides, stopping inches from her. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you asleep?”
Pushing a calming breath past her lips, she looks up at me, determination flooding her features when she rises on her toes, pressing her lips to mine.
“Violet—”
“Shh...” she hushes like she always does when we find ourselves in this situation. I try to resist because having her in my bed, almost naked, is torture. On the other hand. I love that she won’t let me talk her out of these bedtime kisses. “Less talking, more kissing.”
My mind ignites when her small hands rest on my chest, fingers scraping the ink there. Her tongue slips between my lips, and she greedily deepens the kiss.
I stop fighting.
“I’m going to lift you now,” I say, bending to wrap my arms under her thighs.
Talking her through small touches like this keeps her in the moment, aware of my next move.
She usually comes over while I’m still awake. Last time she woke me up, she knocked, saving us this kind of scare.
Knowing she just needs a little comfort, I take her to bed, dropping her on the crumpled sheets. Her back hits the mattress with a soft bounce, but when I try to pull away and get comfortable beside her, her hold around my neck tightens and the kiss evolves.
We’ve done this before.
A few times already.
But something’s different tonight.
There’s more... intent in Violet’s kisses and the way her hands roam my body.
More want.
“Baby—”
“Please,” she whispers into my mouth, holding me in a vice grip. “You want me, don’t you?”
I grasp the sheets by her head, hovering over her warm skin. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt—my t-shirt—the hem rolled up enough to almost offer a peek between her legs.
That almost drives me feral in a flash.
“I want this,” she whispers, scraping the back of my scalp. “Please. I want you.”
Fuck. We’ve never done this before. We made out like teenagers, both hot and bothered, but we didn’t hit any bases save for the kisses.
Desire erupts beneath my skin, running rampant every which way and sending tingles down my spine. I’m already hard. I’m fucking hard whenever her lips touch mine.
Three months of celibacy will do that to a man.
I scrutinize her face, a battle of want and reason raging in my mind. She’s flushed, her pupils blown, lips parted. Heat radiates off her in waves. She’s so pretty. So needy. So ready ... but it doesn’t mean shit.
Hesitation cements me in place even though she’s right, I do want her. More than anything else, but taking that step feels so fucking wrong.
Rationally, I know she’s been living with me for weeks and before that she lived with Carter and Hailey. All that time she’s been working through her trauma with Tom.
She’s been getting better, happier, calmer. Her therapy sessions have dwindled from hours upon hours every day to weekly, but still... as I stare at those pleading eyes, that innocent face, it feels like I’m taking advantage.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper, pulling myself off her. “It’s too soon. You’ll regret this.” I sit at the edge of the bed, my muscles harder than stone.
I want nothing more than to abandon my resolve and lean back over her. I want to show her how much she means to me, how much I fucking need her, but my desires are irrelevant. For months I’ve done nothing but try and ensure she’s comfortable and I’m not about to stop.
She must’ve woken up from a bad dream.
She’s confused. Dazed.
I’ll be fucking damned if I let her make a mistake. She’d hate me come morning and that’s not something I’d survive.
For a moment, she just lays there, her breathing coming out in short pants, and then, with newfound determination she pulls herself up, swings round me so her legs pin my hands to my sides, and straddles me, using her weight to push me further back onto the bed.
“Don’t overthink,” she whispers, trembling softly. “I’ve done enough of that for us both.” She cups my cheeks, her forehead dropping to mine. “I know what I want, Broadway. I’ve wanted it for a while... please. Touch me.”
I wrap my arms around her on instinct, something I’ve been doing more and more. Not only because she lets me, but because she doesn’t flinch anymore.
Every plea falling from her lips is my command. She doesn’t mean them as orders, but my body doesn’t care. It fulfills every demand, giving her everything she asks for even if my brain tries veering on the side of caution.
“I’m—I’m so tired of fighting my feelings. Tired of remembering all the bad things. I want new memories.”
“Don’t rush this, baby,” I huff, drowning in her affection. In the way her fingers lightly brush my cheeks, her soft lips planting ghostlike kisses along my skin, all the while pleading, begging me to touch her. “We have time.”
She shakes her head, nosing a line up my cheek, her warm lips hovering over my temple. She’s so warm, so delicate and fragile, yet not breakable.
My hands find the sides of the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, and I fist the fabric, anchoring myself in place, poised between what I think is the right thing to do and the overwhelming need to give her what she asks for.
“Please,” she hums again, dragging her lips along my forehead. “I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you.”
Please.
Please.
Please.
It’s a symphony, a melody inside my head. I think she knows my resolve’s hanging by a thread because she doesn’t stop pleading, her lips against my skin, her warm breath melting the ice walls I’ve erected to ward off exactly these feelings.
Please.
Please.
“Please, I want—”
I give up. My resolve snaps like a rubber band and I cut her off. Catching her lips with mine I sink into that sweet mouth like a starving, dying man.
She gasps in surprise but follows my lead, her dainty fingers scraping along my scalp.
“If you want me, you’ll have to take me, Violet,” I grit out, marshaling the desire that’s scorching my nerve endings. “I’m yours to use as you please. You’re in charge.” I break the kiss, resting my forehead against hers.
Noretto robbed her of control for months. Since day one, I’ve tried giving that control back bit by bit. She’d been submitting to the men who bought her, so since our first kiss, I’ve been flipping the narrative. I give her the reins, the power, and it’s me submitting to her.
It’s worked a treat. Violet’s grown in confidence quickly.
Obviously.
She trusts me not to do anything she hasn’t asked for.
Taking control flips a switch inside her mind.
“You dictate the pace, baby.” I catch her chin between my fingers and angle her head to stare into my eyes. “You decide how far we go, where I can touch, what I can do. Move my hands where you want them. Push and I’ll back away, pull and I’ll come to you.”
Without hesitation she grabs my wrists, moving them onto her thighs, and drags them up, then down, a clear instruction. As soon as she releases me, I gently palm her skin, dragging my hands up and down as instructed.
“Like this?”
She shudders on top of me, a ghost of a smile lighting up her pretty face. “Yes, just like that.”
Dipping her head, she pulls me in for a slow, erotic kiss. Her warmth seeps into my skin, stealing my attention completely. The world falls away and it’s just us. The dimmed bedroom lights illuminate the room enough that I see her flustered cheeks and blown pupils.
Every instinct urges me to grab her waist, flip her over, and take control. I never wait for instructions. Being told what to do in bed is new... I guess as new as holding all the power is for Violet.
I want to shower the column of her neck with small kisses. I want to mark the crook of her shoulder with my teeth, then run my tongue along the bite, soothing the mild sting. I want to push my hands under the hem of her t-shirt and feel the softness of her skin, her narrow waist, those small boobs filling my hands.
But I don’t. This isn’t for my benefit.
Not that I’m not benefiting.
This is for her. It’s her moment, a way to exorcise her demons, cover the bad memories with good ones, and regain a part of herself she was deprived of months ago.
“Too many clothes,” she whispers, clamping her teeth on my lower lip. She tugs, hard enough to make it sting, then releases me with an awed, almost crazed smile and grips the hem of her t-shirt.
My lungs stop working. My breath gets caught somewhere on the way out and I stare as the soft fabric glides up her body then over her head, revealing everything.
It lands on the floor by my feet and she’s near naked in my lap, almost every milky inch of her skin on display.
“Touch me,” she demands, gripping my wrists again to glide my open palms past the swell of her ass and up the curve of her narrow waist.
She lets go when my fingers cinch her ribcage, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. And when they circle both nipples at the same time, the featherlight touch makes her buck in the most sinfully delicious way.
“God,” she gasps, bracing against my shoulder, nails biting into the hard muscles.
I repeat the move, rolling those pale pink, candy-hard peaks. My cock twitches, swelling further when goosebumps sprawl over her skin. Her head lolls to the side, eyes on mine and lips parted to let out a titillating little moan.
It’s so fucking innocent, perfectly complimenting the way she looks.
Wrapping both arms around my neck, she’s back exploring my lips, greedy and needy at the same time, and that fervor tells me she’s been missing this.
This tenderness and affection.
These simple touches and desperate kisses.
Hands, lips, skin on skin.
She’s missed feeling truly desired, worshipped, cared for.
I thumb her nipple, kneading both breasts, and break the kiss, latching onto the crook of her neck without her order. I’ve done it before so it’s not like I’m reinventing the wheel. I know how she’ll react, how much she loves those open-mouthed kisses along her tendons.
She smells like strawberries, cream, and sugar, a potent mixture that drives me feral. My cock tents the loose pajama bottoms I’m wearing, and Violet purposely presses herself against that spot, igniting both our minds. I hold her close, so she’ll feel safe and stay with me in the moment.
“Still too many clothes,” she tuts, her tone breathless. “Lay back.”
I leave one last kiss in the valley between her breasts before my back connects with the crumpled sheets, hands on Violet’s hips, fingers drawing small patterns.
Not long ago, I had to keep my hands behind my back when we kissed. It’s extraordinary how much has changed. How much she trusts me.
She leans over me immediately, bracing on one elbow while her other hand dives between us and tugs down my pajama bottoms.
For such a small girl she’s got a lot of strength.
One hard tug makes my cock leap from its confinement, and another sends the fabric down my thighs.
I help, kicking them off and scooting Violet’s pussy dangerously close to my swollen head, already leaking precum. The lace of her panties brushes against it, all damp and warm.
A low groan vibrates my chest, my fingers sinking into her hips a touch harder.
Bad move.
Her eyes widen, breath hiccups, and she stills, staring at my fingers making dimples in her soft skin. I ease up immediately, moving one hand to the back of her neck, and pull her down for a kiss.
The air leaves her lungs on a soft moan, her body relaxing into me. Her pussy glides over my cock, up and down, up and down, while our lips battle for dominance, the kisses growing more feral by the second.
Her kisses.
I simply follow her lead, adjusting my pace to hers, and it’s fucking glorious. Completely different from the carnal, hard, almost brutal fucks I’m used to.
Sex has always been an outlet for me, and women never complained. Why would they? I’m not selfish. I always make sure the woman beneath me screams her orgasm at least once.
Tonight’s uncharted territory. So much different... but good different. I’m already addicted to the taste of Violet, the warmth of her small hands scraping down my chest, the sounds escaping her lips and the way every single one makes my heart stutter.
This might be the longest foreplay I’ve ever engaged in and I have a feeling that if Violet lets me touch her again, we’ll drag it out longer and longer.
The temperature soars around us, the air thick and heavy, perfumed by her scent, only growing headier when she moves my hand to the elastic of her panties.
“Rip them off,” she gasps between kisses.
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. The sound of lace ripping at the seams follows suit and the damp scrap of fabric gets tossed aside.
Testing the waters, testing how much she’ll allow, I fill my hands with her hips, kneading the flesh.
Her eyes roll back into her head, cheeks flaming, lips swollen from my kisses. My cock juts against her thigh, throbbing with a dull, but exquisite, pain. Violet arches back, her hair a snowy halo around her gorgeous face.
She grabs my cock in one hand, eyes widening. Her dainty fingers can barely close around the hilt.
My mouth parts, a multitude of questions piling up on the tip of my tongue. I want to know if she’s okay, if she wants to stop, if she’s afraid I’m too big...
Not one word makes it past my lips.
Violet lines my cock up with her pussy, coating the head in her arousal, then sinks without a second thought.
“ Fuck ,” I grit out, every muscle in my body pulling taut, hands flying to her thighs. My heart’s ramming against my ribs, a mix of adrenaline and fear. She feels divine, but she’s so, so still. “Violet... look at me.”
She doesn’t.
My pulse accelerates, whooshing in my ears, my thoughts racing. She’s perfectly still, wide eyes staring at our connection. Every inch of me fits inside her as if she were fucking made for me.
“Violet,” I coax, running my fingertips up and down her legs. “How are you doing, baby?”
Finally, she lifts her gaze to mine. A sort of incredulous wonder twists her features the moment our eyes lock. She leans over me, simultaneously lifting her hips. My cock drags against her tight walls while I hold my breath, wondering if she’ll jump off or sink back down.
Just when my cock is about to slide out of her, she slips back down, taking me back in fast.
“Oh God,” she mewls in my lips. “You’re so big.”
Way to stroke my ego.
I smirk into her mouth, brushing a few loose strands of hair over her ears. “Gorgeous. So fucking pretty. Use me.”
“We should grab a condom.”
Fuck no almost comes out of my mouth. She feels so good clenching around me that protection sounds like a felony. I trap the words behind my teeth and lean out to grab a condom from my bedside drawer.
Violet rolls it on in a flash, as eager to put me inside as I am to be inside her. She lifts her hips, sinking onto me in one smooth motion. I swear that keeping my ass firmly down instead of pumping up into her is damn near impossible.
I pour that fervor into our kisses, into the way I worship her body, into keeping her close and calm.
Bracing one hand against my chest, she arches back, her boobs bouncing as she rides me. She’s not taking her time like I expected. She’s not timid or uncertain. Her hips buck back and forth, the column of her throat on display, soft moans ricocheting off the walls.
My fingers sink into her hips, aiding her moves, my chest heaving with the effort it takes not to bend my knees, plant my feet on the bed and thrust into her.
“I... I—” she stutters, cheeks pink, hair damp at her temples. She falls forward, moaning in my mouth through a hasty kiss. “I want you on top.”
The gallop of my pulse turns unforgiving. “No. If I’m on top, you’re not in control.”
“I don’t care. I’m safe with you. You won’t hurt me.”
“I’ll never hurt you, but this is too soon.”
“Don’t tell me what I can handle,” she hisses, biting my lower lip. “Flip me over.”
“Violet...” I groan, fear gripping my throat. “Baby, if you’re under me—”
“God, shut up ,” she snaps, slapping my chest. “Can you please , just this once, forget my past, stop patronizing me and show me how much you want me? I can pick a safe word if it makes you—”
“Fuck no.” Shoving the unease and worry aside, I wrap my arms around her and flip us over.
Her wish is my fucking command.
“Just say stop or no . I’ll listen, baby. I’ll understand even when you just push me away.”
Now I know what she’s missing, what she desperately needs from me, all my reservations about intimacy have dissipated.
I move her to lay comfortably with her head propped against the pillow and then do something I’ve never done before. Reaching back, I drape the comforter over us, creating a more intimate atmosphere.
Her body melts into the mattress and her arms circle my neck. There’s so much... relief in her eyes. So much trust it’s blinding. Her legs fall apart when I reach between us, gripping the base of my shaft and guiding it to her entrance. My arms box her in and I take her lips as my hips push slowly forward, thrusting me inside one inch at a time.
“Oh God,” she mewls.
The angle takes me deeper than when she rode me, but it’s still not enough. I want her ecstatic, writhing in pleasure, and I want her to come. Hooking one hand under her knee, I drape it over my back and sink as far as I can go.
The angle changes again, letting me hit her G spot. She trembles when it happens.
“Right there,” I whisper, my lips hovering over hers. “Do you feel that?”
She nods, clinging to me harder, her limbs quivering when I target that spot, sliding in and out at a lazy pace.
This is as far from fucking as it gets and that’s exactly what she needs. She needs to feel cherished and cared for. She needs to feel she’s more than a sex toy. Had I known she’d come to me tonight, I’d have lit some candles and put on some music.
Cheesy as fuck, but who cares? As long as it helps her cage the demons, it’s worth it.
I dip my head, kissing the crook of her neck, our bodies misting with sweat. It’s so fucking hot under the covers, but I can tell it makes her feel safe. She clings to me, touches everywhere she can reach, and moves with me, her hips bucking to meet every unhurried thrust.
The orgasm builds at the base of my spine in sync with hers. I can feel how close she is, but she’s fighting it. Every time I think she’s about to fall apart, she grits her teeth and pushes the pleasure down until her walls stop spasming around me.
I thought she was making the moment last, but now, panic flickers in her eyes and I halt, rising on both elbows, still buried deep inside her but rigid as a statue.
“What’s wrong?” I brush her hair away from her face. “Why are you fighting it?”
She bites her bottom lip, eyes darting away from mine. “I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I don’t mind you on top, I don’t mind that you’re in control, but this just feels like giving up too much.”
Fuck. Of course.
She’s feeling vulnerable.
Giving in to pleasure relinquishes every ounce of control. I wonder if her orgasms have been used against her. If she fought against coming but some torturous fucker wouldn’t stop until she fell over that edge, taking away her free will.
I rack my brain for a moment, unsure how to get through this. I want her to trust me enough that she lets go in my arms but...
“Baby steps,” I say. “Do you think you can get yourself off while I’m watching?”
Her eyes spring open, wide and guarded. “No, it’s okay, I’ll... I’ll try to let it happen this time.”
I smirk, kissing the tip of her nose. “I don’t want you to fight your instincts. You need some semblance of control, Violet. If I make you come you’re submitting entirely and you’re not ready for that.”
I slip out of her pussy, leaning back on my calves. The comforter pools behind my back, exposing Violet’s glistening body. An involuntary groan fills the room, the visual of her clammy skin, pink everywhere we’ve touched, will forever remain at the forefront of my mind.
I grip the base of my cock, pumping slowly. “Touch yourself. Show me how fucking gorgeous you are when you come for me.”
She hesitates a moment, eyes dropping from my face to my fingers stroking my shaft in a lazy tempo. Precum beads at the tip and, by the look of Violet, it sends her spiraling.
Releasing all air from her lungs, she ghosts her fingers down her flat stomach until they brush against her clit. That tiny contact sends a shiver through her and she visibly trembles, her eyes hooding over. She doesn’t look away from my hand tightly wrapped around my dick and she seems to match my rhythm, moving her fingers in small, slow circles.
Despite wanting to stay in control, she unconsciously demands that I lead. And I do, upping the tempo of my strokes, my breaths turning ragged, almost growled when she follows, playing her clit faster.
She palms her breast, sinks her teeth in her bottom lip and arches softly off the bed, hurtling toward her orgasm.
“That’s it, baby, don’t stop,” I grunt, jerking faster to encourage her fingers to do the same.
With every passing second her moans grow louder, more breathless, her palm kneading her breast grips so hard her fingernails turn white.
“There, right there.” I twist my hand at the tip, so close to blowing my load it’s not even funny.
My thigh muscles are on fire, orgasm so close it’s a struggle to keep it in check. No way I’ll come before she does. I want to see it. I want to stare as she comes apart.
“Oh God,” she mewls, pinching her nipple. “Fuck I—” She chokes on the words and her eyes fly to meet mine. “In,” she pants, shaking softly from the effort it’s taking to keep herself poised on the edge. “I want you inside.”
I fall forward, bracing on one elbow to not crush her into the mattress, and sink into her in one smooth push that scoops her up the bed.
Her fingers are still playing her clit, moans growing erratic. It takes five, maybe eight, fast, thorough thrusts before she gasps, stills, then shakes when the orgasm washes over her like some biblical fucking flood.
Her eyes roll back into her head, arms grip my neck to yank me down, and her pussy spasms around my shaft, pulling me over the edge right along with her.
“Beautiful,” I grunt, the movement of my hips erratic as I empty inside her. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. Show me those pretty eyes.”
Her nails sink into my shoulder blades, the orgasm so potent she’s out of breath. She forces her eyes open and, if it were possible, I’d come again just seeing the bliss, the awe, the calmness in her violet irises.
Diving lower, I catch her lips, drinking the last of her moans, my hips slowing until I come to a halt deep inside, not yet ready to leave.
Violet lets out a strangled sigh, her hands tangling in my hair when I shift to pepper her neck with small kisses. She toys with the dark strands, tugging and twirling them between her fingers in the most affectionate way.
“Thank you,” she whispers when I come back for her lips. “I needed this... I needed you.”
I stamp one last kiss on her head before pulling out to lay beside her. “I’m here whenever you want me.”
She turns to face me, then climbs over me, her chest nuzzling into the crook of my neck, and she inhales a deep, content breath. “Hold me for a while?”
How about forever?