Break Me by Evelyn Glass Read Free Book Online Page B

at all—and closed his eyes. Just this once. Just this one time, he would imagine that she was walking into the room right now, pulling the stall door open, and sliding in without a word. She was naked, too—no, wearing a tank top, just one dark green cotton tank top, nothing else. The water would soak it through in seconds, leaving it clinging to her breasts, the peaks of her nipples achingly hard as she lowered herself down over his erection, wrapping him in her heated body. She’d arch as she fucked him, taking him all the way down into her as the spray soaked her hair, her back, spilling in rivulets down her torso. “Mmm, yes,” she'd whisper, and grind down a little harder, a little faster. She’d start to whimper as she thrust down, her body finding the spots that made her wild, and she’d scream as she came, pounding down onto him as her body convulsed around him—but that wasn’t enough for her. He could feel her body begging her to collapse into boneless release around him, but his princess wanted more, deserved more, and she would keep her body slamming down over him, grinding her clit over his pubic bone over and over until she found an even higher pinnacle. And then her eyes would fly open as she gasped, her pussy clenching iron tight around him, squeezing him, milking him, tipping him over the edge because she was too tight, to overwhelmed to even cry out.
     
    He spurted into the shower, biting sharply at his lip to choke off his own desperate, needy cries, and felt no release. Physical, sure, his balls ached a little less than they had when he was in his office with his cock semi-hard and demanding all of his attention, but mentally? Emotionally? He felt no better.
     
    He wasn’t enough of an idiot to call this hungry desire love. Love was something that built up over time, that was made out of shared experience and shared goals, not just a shared desire for spanking. But there was also no denying that she fit against him particularly well. He loved how bratty she got in the bedroom. So many of the subs he’d played with were into the role so very much that they had difficulty even following the scripts he gave them to voice their desires within the scenes they played out. It was fun sometimes, but sometimes he wanted someone who gave as good as they got, who would fight him for control, or who would even win now and then.
     
    It wasn’t love, but he had a funny idea that, given time and the right environment, it could become love. But he wasn’t sure he could give her either one, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much she deserved it.
     
    He washed the sweat from his body and got ready for the board meeting.
     
    ***
     
    Zoey barely made it out of the building before the tears started. She’d tossed the straps of her duffle over one shoulder, and carried her laptop across her chest. She’d planned on getting a cab as soon as she got out of the building, but the tears that were streaming down her cheeks were too humiliating. She could stomach the subway in tears; there was no way she was getting into a cab looking like the jilted girlfriend who’d just been kicked out on the rich side of town. Besides, she’d kicked herself out, dammit. And with good reason.
     
    She hadn’t even taken the coffee that Claire had left out for her. That had been a strategic error, really. Sophia made amazing coffee. But it had been left out in a (gorgeous, expensive, beautiful) stainless steel travel mug, and even though Alex would probably never realize it was gone, she’d feel compelled to return it, and she did not want to do that. She didn’t want to go back. She’d come up with some sort of excuse for Claire’s party, offer to take the girl out to lunch or—something. Make her lunch, more likely. In her pathetic excuse for a galley kitchen.
     
    The sorrow and the shame threatened to overwhelm her, almost made her double over in the street. Her stomach was empty, but it twisted and