Breaking the Rules: The Breaking Series #1 Read online

  She disconnected from his cock, licking her lips. “Mmm. Such a tasty treat.”

  “You like my lollipop?” He grinned, kneeling onto the bed, urging her forward. “Get on all fours, babe.”

  She did as she was told, her ass high and expectant in the air. He smoothed his palm over it and then gave her ass a sharp thwack. She sucked at her teeth, wiggling her butt in his face.

  “Do it again.”

  He rubbed his palm over the other cheek this time and then smacked it. She laughed throatily. “You’re so good at that.”

  “It’s hard not to spank this ass.” He came up on his knees, rubbing his cock against the crease of her butt cheeks. She arched her back, letting out a low moan.

  “Fuck me, Trav.” Her voice was a desperate plea. “I need it.”

  She drove him wild; nobody had ever taken him to the brink like this. He grabbed her hips, his cockhead lured by the warmth of her pussy, the sweet heat of her lips. After relishing the skin-on-skin contact for as long as he trusted himself, he ripped himself away, reaching into the bedside drawer for a condom.

  “Come on. Get inside me.”

  Her sultry purr was all he needed. He rolled the latex over his dick and positioned himself, distracted by the glistening edges of her pussy, eyes drifting shut as he eased himself in, inch by inch, pressing deeper until he’d buried himself.

  She tensed against him, her walls clenching, and he started a slow rhythm, easy at first but faster once she got used to it. The view of her from above like this was divine, so sexy he could barely keep it together. Her round ass, the caramel swell of her hips, her dark hair gathered to one side while she offered up her ass like a sacrifice.

  “Fuck, Amara.” He grunted, his balls slapping against her ass. “I’m close.”

  “Me too.” She grabbed fistfuls of the bedspread, face buried. “Oh, Travis. Go harder.”

  He picked up the pace as requested, his body starting the uphill buzz toward climax, fireworks beginning a slow churn in his core. She moaned and tightened around him, and he slammed against her while the pleasure mounted and then burst. He came hard, harder than any time before, which had been the norm with her. He groaned low and gravelly, doubling over her, burying his face in her back as his cock spurted the last dregs of his pleasure.

  “Shit.” She wilted a bit beneath him and then collapsed onto the bed. His chest heaved as he struggled to regain his breath.

  “That was so intense.” He moaned, rolling off her. He lay on his side, stroking her back as the high of orgasm wore off. She sighed, a lazy smile on her face.

  They lay like that, alternately sighing and stroking each other, for a blissfully long while. The silence between them stretched comfortable and warm, like they’d been together for years.

  “A girl can get used to that.” She plopped onto her side, tucking her arm under her head. “In fact, there are a lot of things you do that are easy to get used to.”

  “Oh yeah?” He reached out to trace the curve of her smile with his fingertip. “Like what?”

  “Exactly what you just did. And then what you did before that…”

  “Like when I ate you out?”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she jerked her head into a nod. “Yeah.” A moment passed, and then she said, “Be honest. Where did you learn to eat a pussy so well?”

  He grinned. There wasn’t a higher compliment than that as far as he was concerned. “You really wanna know?”

  Indecision flashed across her face. “Uh, I think so?”

  “It’s good, I promise.” He fingered a lock of hair at her neck. “When I was twenty, I was messing around with this writer. She was older than me…like maybe twenty-five at the time…and she was really, I dunno, experienced. In a whole-body way.”

  Amara lifted a brow. “Were you new to the game at twenty?”

  “I mean, I had hooked up plenty…but I still didn’t know what the fuck with all the lady bits.” He smoothed his hand over her shoulder as he recounted the story. “Sex had only ever been dick in, dick out. Plus I was dosing, so my head space was all fucked up. Most girls were trying to get with me anyway because I fought so much, you know?”

  “It has a certain allure.”

  “It never mattered if I knew how to eat anyone out. So this girl I was messing around with, she looked at me one night we hooked up, and she said—I swear to God—‘Travis…you look like a warrior, you fight like a warrior…but you don’t have the appetite of a warrior. You aren’t hungry enough for this pussy.’”

  Amara threw her head back and laughed. “No way.”

  “I’ll never forget it.” Travis laughed, hooking his hand around the curve of her waist, tugging her closer on the bed. “She taught me a lot.”

  “I should thank her.”

  “I’ll be sure to introduce you if we ever run into her.” He pressed his lips to hers. Warmth spread through him, something stealthy and calming. There were a thousand things he loved about spending time with Amara, and the fact that he could tell a story like that in the afterglow of an orgasm was one of them.

  “So.” She ran her fingers over the hairs on his breastbone. He wished she’d never stop. “Did you really get sushi?”

  “Of course. You asked for it.”

  “For both of us?”

  “Yeah… Why wouldn’t I?”

  She shrugged, smiling like she had a secret. “Most guys I’ve known get what they want instead.”

  He laughed, pulling her closer, rubbing his nose against hers. It was like the more he got of her, the more he wanted. “Don’t you know by now? I’m not most guys.”

  When her eyes met his, there was something sad there, or maybe tender. He didn’t know how to read its depth. “How can I say no to a man who brings home sushi?”

  “You don’t.” He squeezed her hips before rolling off the bed. “But you’re gonna have to show me how to eat it.”

  Chapter 16

  Amara’s first sensations upon waking the next day were threefold: Travis’s warmth, seeping into her like a heavenly nectar; the bliss of the moment—the man, the apartment, the ease with which they could be around each other; and a restfulness that seemed heaven-sent, like an angel had blessed her with complete and utter wakefulness.

  Travis groaned as he roused, gathering her against him, eliciting a giggle. He was so noisy and dramatic when he woke up—as if emerging from the bowels of the earth for the first time in years.

  She sighed, pressing her butt against him, lazily recalling their amazing evening the night before. After eating, they’d lain around for hours, chatting, diving deep, being sweet to each other—stroking hair, caressing, soft kisses that stole her breath. Only when they headed for bed did their ravenous sides emerge again, holding them hostage to the roiling passion.

  Seriously, what is it with this guy? It was like he came from a fantasy. One she hadn’t even dared consider in her life. She turned on her side to face him, nuzzling into his neck. His rough hands smoothed over her lower back, down to her bare ass.

  “I wish we could stay in bed all day.” She dragged her lips over the ridge of his clavicle, inhaling the dizzying scent of his skin. “I don’t want to go to work.”

  “Let’s do that someday. When we have a getaway.” He rubbed his chin on top of her head. “Like when you come to the mountains with me.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Soon, I hope. You tell me what weekend you can slip away, and I’ll make it work.”

  Their eyes met—he was serious. Excitement tremored through her.

  He squeezed her hips, rolled out of bed, and headed for the bathroom. In the bright gray hues of the foggy morning, she reviewed her personal to-do list for the day. Lots of social media campaigning and donor communications awaited her—so much that she already yearned for the escape at the end of her workday to visit the gym. Eight hours in the office made her stiff and irritable, even when she was doing good work. Luckily, this job was a healthy mix of office days
and field days. She shouldn’t complain.

  Travis wandered back into the bedroom, his cock shifting against his body as he headed for the closet. She observed his chiseled ass, the fascinating arc of his thighs, the firm feet that looked practically rooted into the carpet.

  “Wouldn’t it be funny if you fought against regular people?” She grinned, propping herself up on an elbow. “People who wanted to try, at least. And obviously you wouldn’t hurt them…”

  He cracked a grin, looking back at her. “I’d do it. How much would we charge?”

  She sighed. “Everything is a new business opportunity for you.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  She picked at a strand in his bedspread. There was something shrouded here, something bulky and uncomfortable. She didn’t know how to elaborate. “I mean, you’re a businessman. That’s a good thing, I guess.”

  “You guess?” He cocked a brow, tugging a pair of boxer briefs up over his hips. “Can’t make a living if you don’t make money.”

  “Right.” She studied the ground, gnawing on the inside of her lip. “All I’m getting at is that it could be a kinda cool charity thing.”

  Travis scoffed. “Beating people up for charity?”

  “You wouldn’t really beat them up,” she reminded him, feeling the air tighten. This felt a whole lot like an argument burbling between them. Her skin prickled. “But, like, I dunno. It could be some cool thing where we let the shelter girls fight you…part of their therapy or something. It would be great. It might even go viral.”

  Travis paused, narrowing his eyes. “Come on.”

  She sighed. That tone had officially irritated her. She slid her panties on and hopped off the bed. “Never mind. I’ll keep my ideas to myself.” Anger made hurried streaks through her, tightening her vision to a tunnel as she headed for the bathroom. That, right there—whatever it was—was the ugly demon lurking in the shadows. The one reservation she had about Travis, the hulking, bulky doubt.

  He’s not committed to the same things you are.

  She shut the door to the bathroom, fighting tears, feeling so silly. Why was she so emotional about it? She lifted the toilet lid and sat down glumly, picking at a nail as she waited to pee. Travis was almost perfect. Almost. And she wanted him, so desperately. More desperately than she could even properly admit.

  But he didn’t live in the same world as she did. And she’d known it from the beginning. LA bodybuilders didn’t mix with the DC world-changers.

  How did you let yourself fall for someone who could only ever be a fling?

  She wiped away a fallen tear. Ridiculous. Crying over a rejected idea, over a man who almost-was but just wasn’t. What had she even wanted in the first place? This had only ever been about sex. She should have remembered that.

  She washed her hands, splashing a little water on her face before heading back into the bedroom. Travis was fully dressed, watching her with soft, curious eyes.

  “Amara, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She crumbled at his words. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she grabbed at her overnight bag, rifling through the few items she’d brought. “I guess we’re on different pages.”

  A tense silence fell between them, one that made her ears ring. “Well, let’s get on the same page,” Travis finally said.

  “I don’t think we can,” Amara said, sniffing. She laid a pair of pressed black pants on the bed, along with a ruffled shirt. She snapped her bra on, avoiding his intense gaze.

  “That’s ridiculous. I don’t even get what just happened. Why are you mad at me?”

  She took a measured breath, studying the crease of her pants. There wasn’t really a point in bringing this up. He was who he was, and it was okay. He couldn’t be for her. “I’m not mad at you.”

  He paused. She could feel his gaze sweeping over her, like testing out the claim. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She slid her silky shirt over her head. “I just think it would be cool if you…”—she forced the words out of her mouth—“did more. With your position. To balance out the ways in which glorified fighting still supports the culture of abuse.”

  Something dark came over his face. “Do more? I have been doing more. You’ve seen me do more. How much more will be enough?”

  His words held something sarcastic, and alarm bells screamed in her head, making her skin feel pulled tight like plastic wrap.

  “My career has nothing to do with abuse,” he added, an edge to his words that she’d never heard before. “And if you think that what I do promotes that, then you have no idea what I’m even about.”

  His words fell like an ax in the room. She swallowed a knot in her throat, willing the words to come out of her mouth. “It might not be about abuse for you, but that’s not the case for everyone else. You’re well-rounded. Not everyone is.”

  They watched each other for a moment until Travis nodded.

  “Yeah.” The fire was gone from his voice. “But shit. I can only do so much.”

  Amara packed up her night clothes, her thoughts like a cyclone in her skull. She wanted someone who got her. Who understood why charity was important, why giving back to the wounded should be the priority.

  Travis paused like he was about to add something, then went out into the kitchen. “You want some coffee?”

  “Sure.” She took a cleansing breath, trying to shake the dark clamp of her emotions. She needed to be clearheaded about all this. The amazing sex muddied things. She had to remember where she was going—which was back to DC, once Mama got better.

  But do you really want to?

  The doubt had been niggling at her for a while now. Somewhere in between moving home and finding her routine in the city, she’d grown comfortable. Even come to cherish it. But her place was still on the East Coast.

  It had to be.

  Once she was dressed, she breezed into the kitchen, Travis’s powerful frame making her breath catch in her throat. She dropped her overnight bag by the island, sliding onto a barstool.

  He looked up at her while he poured two cups of coffee. “I feel like I did something wrong.”

  She sighed, nibbling on her bottom lip. “You didn’t. I swear.”

  “I don’t want you running away from me.”

  His words jarred something loose inside her, as if he could sense her trying to detach already, before the decision was even minutes old. She met his eyes and looked away quickly. There was too much depth there, too many emotions she didn’t want to face.

  “I’m not for now,” she offered, trying to muster a smile.

  The tenderness on his face disappeared. “What do you mean ‘for now’?”

  She shrugged, receiving the mug of coffee he slid her way. “I’m not moving back to DC yet. But when I do… I mean…” She let the implication hang in the air. So she wouldn’t have to say it.

  “So you’re going back.” His gaze burned a hole through her. “When?”

  The hurt in his voice sliced her in two. And the tears were back—tightening her throat this time. Why was this so hard? It wasn’t supposed to be this hard with a fling. A dalliance. A multiple-night-stand that had blossomed into…so much more. “I don’t know. Whenever my mom is better.”

  “Why don’t you stay? Your family is here.” His jaw flexed as he studied his coffee. More quietly he added, “I want you to stay.”

  Her belly tightened into a dense nut. “I know… I just… I think I have a greater impact on the East Coast.”

  He watched her for a few moments, an unsettling array of unknown emotions crossing his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was edged with something raw. “I feel like an idiot now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought we had something going here.” He turned away from her, dumping his coffee in the sink.

  Amara let her face fall into her hands, squeezing out a few tears pressing at the edges. Mother of all intensity. She wanted to melt into his arms and erase the entire
ty of the morning. Start from scratch.

  “We do,” she blurted out, which felt like a relief. To admit it—to herself, most of all. “I’m confused right now, Travis. I don’t know what else to say.”

  He gnawed at the inside of his lip, watching her with soft eyes. “Amara, I want to be with you. But I can’t do that if you’re only gonna leave me. It won’t work unless we both want it.”

  She nodded, studying her coffee. “I know. I mean, I don’t know.”

  “It’s crystal clear for me.” Travis raised his hands like surrendering. “I know what I want. It’s you.”

  Amara looked up at him, tears blurring her vision. I want you too.

  “You should figure out what you want too.” Travis held her gaze for a moment before ripping away, heading back into the bathroom. She blinked out a couple of tears, taking a deep breath while she checked her phone. Time to get to work—and start figuring out how to reconcile all these conflicting feelings.

  The thought of not seeing Travis again jarred a cold fear into her. This couldn’t be the end. She hadn’t wanted that, yet it felt like a distant inevitability. They would never mesh long term. But for now…

  Travis came back into the kitchen with a backpack slung over his shoulder, his face totally neutral. She straightened, trying to regain some grip on her composure.

  “We should go,” he said.

  She nodded, sliding off the barstool. Grabbing her own bag, she looked up at him, searching his face. “I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I wasn’t—I don’t…”

  Travis squeezed the strap of his backpack. “Take some time to figure it out.”

  “This isn’t the end,” she insisted.

  He smiled sadly. “Not unless you make it that way.”

  She drew a shaky breath and then collapsed forward onto his chest. She hugged him like he’d float away if she didn’t, and his arms encircled her a moment later; a warm hand stroked her hair.