Breakaway (Beyond the Play #2)

by Grace Reilly

“Sweetheart?” I say just before I lose her in the aisles. She looks over her shoulder. “Yeah?” “And pick out whatever you want. But choose wisely, because whatever you get, I’m using on you later.”

She goes to look, but I hang back, distracted by a mannequin wearing a leather corset. That would look hot as fuck on Penny. If she added heels and put her hair up? I think I might have a heart attack.

I notice a rack of videotapes—the old-fashioned kind, not even DVDs—filled with vintage porn, and riffle through the bunch. Some of the ladies on the covers are hot enough to make me wish I had a way to play them. The one redhead in the bunch doesn’t hold a candle to my Red, though.

“You have excellent taste,” she says. “I wish I had a boyfriend to buy me fancy vibrators.” “He’s not my boyfriend,” Penny says automatically. “He’s my . . .” “Sexual educator,” I say as I put the oil on the counter too.

She rolls her eyes. “No.” “What? It’s apt. I have more experience than you and I’m showing you the ropes. Like a teacher.”

She’s a freak in the sheets, sure, but she doesn’t strike me as the type to want people besides her partner to see her pleasure. This is supposed to be a fun day, though, so when I spot a little remote-controlled vibrator, I snag it from the shelf and slide it over to the cashier too. The least I can do is make it up to her by crossing another item off her list.

He kisses me as we sit down—on the same side this time—and puts his hand on my thigh, underneath my skirt. Past Penny knew what she was doing when she opted for the skirt and tights today.

“Callahan,” I murmur as he traces a nonsense pattern into the tights. “What are you doing?” “What number is public sex?”

“Skipping ahead a little,” he says as he kisses my neck. “Still need to fuck your ass sometime soon, sweetheart. But not here.” He digs his nails into my tights—and then rips them to get at my panties.

“Those were my good tights,” I protest, my voice fading as he rubs his knuckles over the front of my thong. “I’ll buy you new ones.” He keeps kissing my neck, unwinding my scarf and flinging it onto the seat across from us. “I’ll buy you ten new pairs. Whatever you want.”

He keeps teasing me over my panties as he rummages around in the bag from Dark Allure, and the underlying level of arousal I’ve been feeling whenever I’m around him gains steam.

When he finds the remote-controlled vibrator, he curses at the packaging; I take it from his hands and rip it open at the exact moment he ruins my panties, too.

“Cooper!” I say, scandalized. The tights are one thing, but my underwear? He definitely owes me new ones. “You’re acting like a barbarian.” “I’ve had a fucking hard on since the store,” he says against my ...

and I can’t fucking focus on a thing but Cooper’s fingers teasing my clit. “Wanna put my fingers in,” he murmurs against my ear. “Can I finger-fuck you right here, where anyone could see us the moment we’re out of the tunnel?”

I nod against his shoulder; I don’t trust myself with words right now. He presses in one of his long, thick fingers, deliciously slow, and I moan again, grabbing the air until I settle my hand on his arm. He kisses the side of my head as he adds another finger, scissoring them roughly. I cry out, but fortunately the sound gets swallowed up by the train whistle.

The world around us explodes into light again. Cooper keeps fingering me, angling his body so I’m hidden as much as possible. It’s like he doesn’t want anyone to see not only because it would be mortifying, but because he wants me all to himself. Right when I start rocking...

I look at him pleadingly, a protest already on my lips, but he grabs the little vibrator—which I now see is shaped, abstractly but still recognizably, like a fox, complete with a pointed nose perfect fo...

He tugs my skirt down. I smooth out my wrinkled sweater. You’d be able to glance at us without finding anything out of the ordinary—other than the bulge in his pants and my flush, that is. He grins as he h...

bite my lip as he turns on the vibrator. The sudden burst of motion has me gasping, but he kisses me to tamp down the noise, his hand stroking over my skirt. The remote is hidden in his pal...

The tail part of the vibrator, just barely pushed into me, vibrates rapidly, while the head—and that nubby nose, bumping right up against my clit—pulses in long, slow strokes. I’m thinking it’s going to be hard not to come in approximately thirty secon...

“We’re McKee students,” Cooper says. He puts his arm around me casually—and then he must press the button on the remote again, because the vibrations ratchet up higher on both ends of the toy. It’s all I can do not to moan aloud, aching for relief.

Cooper, the bastard, chats with the conductor for a few minutes as he changes the speeds and rhythms of the toy. I just smile tightly, trying desperately to avoid making it clear what’s going on through an ill-timed gasp or whimper. Not that I want him to stop—I don’t want that. I just want to come, and then get on my knees and suck his cock until he calls me a slut again.

“Need to taste you so fucking bad,” he says as he presses me against the door and slides the lock into place. The train rocks, and I nearly fall, but he holds me up. He looks as desperate as I feel, licking his lips, his backward baseball cap knocked askew. I swear his irises are several shades darker.

He drops to his knees, onto a floor that has to be filthier than the closet we first hooked up in, and sticks his head right up my skirt. Stars burst in my vision as his tongue swipes over my clit. He groans like he’s the one being pleasured, nuzzling his beard against my folds.

“You’re my favorite taste in the whole goddamn world.” I knock his baseball cap off his head so I can grab his hair, push...

The door rattles loudly. I freeze, but Cooper just keeps going. I stuff my fist into my mouth to keep from making noise, and good thing, because he works two fingers into me at once. I clench around him, and he moans, turning his face into my thigh and biting down. I dig my fingers into his hair in retaliation, tugging hard.

I relax, but only for a moment, because Cooper seems determined to make me lose any scrap of decency I have left. As he pushes in a third finger, I plummet over the edge, dropping my fist so I can cry out.

He’s on his feet in an instant, cupping my face in his hands and leaning in to kiss me. I taste myself on his tongue as I work my hand into his pants, gripping him tightly. He moans into my mouth, pressing me against the door with enough of his weight that I feel deliciously trapped.

The train slows to a stop, which I’m grateful for because I still feel wobbly but would very much like to be on my knees to return the favor. When he sees where I’m going with this, he braces himself agains...

Would it look just like this? Day trips into the city, double dates with his brother? Mind-blowing sex and deep conversations about literature? Maybe a label would change the whole thing. Maybe it would force us into territory that neither of us is equipped to handle.

As I take him into my mouth, he sighs, like I really am offering him much needed, much anticipated relief, and strokes his hand through my hair. I look up at him through my lashes; his eyes are screwed shut, his mouth slack. He’s so beautiful it hurts. I’m too scared to name, even in my mind, the tendril of emotion running through me.

I need the strings to tether me down, and once he’s captain, this whole thing will probably fizzle out. The friendship and the hookups both. But I can’t deny that I haven’t felt this happy or settled in a long time. Here, specifically, on my knees in a bathroom on a moving train, hoping that I can drink down the come of the guy who just told me I’m his favorite taste of all.

When I ran into her on my way out of the gym this morning and she invited me to come to the library with her, I couldn’t help but say yes. She looked so cute in her forest green sweater and pleated black skirt, her gold butterfly necklace shining in the hollow of her throat, that I couldn’t have said no if I tried.

She kisses me instead, surprising me with the force of her lips against mine, her delicate fingers working through my hair. We haven’t fucked since a couple days ago on the train, and every second of that was worth the ache in my knees.

I become aware all over again of the fact we’re underneath a table, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the library, but just when my dick twitches with interest, she pulls away.

When I do, she hops in and kisses me without a second thought. That’s been happening a lot recently; kissing with our clothes on and everything. It’s like our kiss underneath the table in the library opened that possibility. I don’t hate it—I love it way more than I should, in fact—but it surprises me every time. She rips open her coat.

“Holy fuck,” I say. Did I get into a car accident on the way here and this is my brain’s last-ditch effort to wake me from a coma? There’s no fucking way that Penny’s wearing those thigh-high boots I love along with a black lace bodysuit. I pinch myself on the arm, and it hurts like a bitch, so I guess I’m not dreaming.

She’s wearing dark lipstick. Her mouth curves into a delectable smile as she takes in my expression. “You like it?” “Like it?” I say. My voice cracks like I’m a teen...

The bodysuit is practically painted on; it pushes her tiny breasts together in a sticky-sweet curve, and the ribs of the suit accentuate her shape in a way that makes me want to ha...

The bikini cut shows off her thighs to delicious perfection. My cock throbs. I want to be inside her so...

“You said you need to relax,” she says. I did say that, not in so many words, but she got the drift and ...

“Now hurry up, I didn’t take this shower for nothing.” “Why did you?” I ask, reluctantly tearing away my gaze so I can focus on getting us back to my place in one piece....

I hit the brakes and practically throw the truck into park. Her eyes widen, like she really has no fucking clue what she’s giving me right now. I want to fuck her pussy, of course I do, but after her ...

If we get to the end of the list, that will be the last hurrah. Fucking her sweet bottom, though? I can’t stop fantasizing about it. I fingered her ass the other day, licked her there too afte...

I lean over and kiss her. I’m probably messing up her lipstick, but I don’t give a shit. She smells clean, like lavender and mint, and she licks right into my mout...

We make out for what must be a couple of minutes; my hands tangle in her wet hair and hers come around to clutch at my back. Eventually, though, I make myself pull away. If we go any further, I’m either going to be too distracted to drive or come in my pants, and neither sound all that appealing when...

I toss her onto the bed, drinking in the sight of her. The coat’s open, her chest is heaving, and she looks good enough to eat. “Callahan,” she says, sitting up on her elbows. “I’d have pushed for this sooner if I knew it would turn you into a werewolf.”

“Is that what your werewolves do?” I say as I tear off my jacket and fling it aside. I take off my shirt next, then work on my pants. She takes off her coat and throws it onto the floor, but thankfully doesn’t touch the rest. “Kidnap unsuspecting women and carry them away to their dens?” “Sometimes,” she says cheekily.

I join her on the bed, pulling her into my arms and kissing her neck. I scrape my teeth down the column of her throat just to feel her shiver. “What about this?” I murmur. Her breath stutters. “Always,” she says. Her nails ...

I do bite her then, lightly, drawing out a hitched moan. “Is that what you want, sweetheart? A bite?” “As long as it comes with your cock.” “There’s my girl.” I sit up, running my hand down her bare thigh. Her skin is smooth...