Break Me (Brayshaw, #5)

by Meagan Brandy

“You think you’ve seen some part of me others haven’t? That I opened up to you more than I do all the girls I’m preparing to fuck? ‘Cause if that’s the case, little Bishop, you’re as pathetic as I expected you to be.”

Brielle nods, and when she turns away, I catch the gloss now covering her eyes. Hiding my favorite shade of turquoise, dulling the most perfect color I’ve ever seen, in the most perfect pair of eyes I’ve ever looked into. Stared into. Found in my fuckin’ dreams. Cursed in my nightmares.

A tear slips from her eyes and Brielle dashes left, running for the side of the house, toward the gate that’ll help her escape. Help her run from me.

In my nightmares, when I curse her, she never runs. She stays and smiles and understands. I’m broken. She’s breaking me. My hands...

“What do you want from me?” she whispers, desperate for an answer I can’t give.

With me. Don’t go.

She leans into my touch, the edges of her eyes smoothing, her unease fading away into the darkness surrounding us. I did that, comforted her with my touch. Me, the throwaway Bray. I soothed her.

When she blinks, the moisture that was building in her eyes falls, and my knuckle flies up to catch it. I bring it to my mouth, rubbing her tears across my lips, tasting a tiny piece of her. Big fucking mistake.

I crowd her, fully and completely, and the little sliver of a thread left, the one wrapped around my sanity, the one that’s been thinning and splitting hair by fucking hair since the day she took over my mind... it snaps. Splits in fucking two and all that’s left is her. Me. And greed. I slam my mouth to hers and she gasps, but not a second’s hesitation comes from her.

My tongue drives inside, raring to explore every bit of her. Desperate for more. Starved for it. I might fuckin’ pass out, the need’s too strong. A need to get closer. To kiss lon...

Her chest swells then, right against mine, and it’s too fucking much. Suf...

“What do I want from you?” I rasp, my eyes hard, hers tense and tangled, even more so when I slowly slip away. “Absolutely nothing.”

Who is she to make me ache? Nobody. That’s who.

Dumbass

Royce stands in front of me, body pressed to mine, alcohol blanketing his breath and hazing his brown eyes. Eyes that grow darker the longer he stares.

“Baby girl,” he rasps, and his eyes slam into mine.

He fights it, his want, and he fights it well. But I don’t want him to, and he came here for a reason. Because just as I felt tonight, his kiss of anger wasn’t enough. We need more. We need real.

I want him to kiss me again, to devour me. I want him to break me. It’ll be worth it.

Demand and receive he once told me.

Chest to chest, my legs wrapped tight around his hips, I press down, my ass meeting the head of his swollen cock. And my god... does he respond.

His breaths turn ragged, his hand shoving into my hair, and then the world stops turning. The sun meets the moon. And my soul, it wraps around his.

Royce takes my lips in a deep, devilish, exhilarating kiss. There is no anger in it this time. It’s a pure, thrilling—terrifying—need to drown in one anot...

Royce kisses me slow, lazy, and long. And somehow, this kiss is more than the ones before. It’s honest. It’s an apology. It’s us. It’s him. It’s more.

“My little Tink,” he rasps. “Help me fly...”

“Help me fly, ‘cause this lost boy is on his way down, baby girl...” He quiets, his hold tightening.

Those tingles, they turn into fireworks. He’s on his way down... He’s falling.

“What are you doing to me” follows.

Royce Brayshaw has the ability to feed my soul... or feast on it. And me? I must be as sick as my mother was... because I’m pretty sure I’d let him do both.

Royce can only work off what his mind allows.

I step back, smiling at the girl in the mirror, and unexpected moisture fills my eyes, because for the first time, the girl who smiles back? I believe her.

“Daddy said I was mean,” she whispers or tries to. It’s loud enough for everyone around to hear. “Did I hurt your heart?”

I shake my head. “No, sweet girl, you didn’t hurt my heart, but it’s very nice of you to ask.”

He shakes the empty pizza pocket box in the air, tosses it behind him, and takes the stairs two at a time. He places himself right in front of me. “Little Bishop.” “Playboy.” “I’m a fucking pizza pocket.” I laugh, and his eyes roam my face. “But when you’re hot...” I tease.

“Hop in my ride, we’re going to the zoo.” “Not going to ask me if I have plans or even want to go?” His frown is instant, and I laugh. “I’m kidding.” “Wouldn’t matter if you weren’t.” He glares at my shirt. “You’re mine today.”

grin, nodding. “She calls you Uncle Bro?” His smile grows wide at that, a softness in his eyes that’s new to me. It’s calm and gentle. I’d like to see it more often. “Maddoc’s Uncle D, I’m Uncle Bro, RaeRae is... well, RaeRae.” He chuckles. “She picked up on my nickname for Raven and it stuck.”

“And her mom, she calls her Rora?”

“Victoria isn’t her birth mother,” he shares as he watches them, a tenderness in his tone that can’t be described it’s so raw. So real.

“Her mom is gone, not dead, but she might as well be. She never wanted Zoey, and maybe one day I think she’ll regret her choices. It will be too late when or if she does.” His eyes flick to mine and back.

“Zoey is too much like us, loyal to a fault. Honest. She doesn’t realize it yet because she’s not around anyone to hear the word mom, we have no mothers, but she’ll see it soon, with Raven, and then who knows what will follow. But it’s just a word.” He shakes his head fiercely. “That girl right there.” He speaks of Victoria. “She’s the reason Zoey was born.”

“It doesn’t matter what she calls her, what that little girl feels is the love of a mother. Victoria is her mother, in every way that counts, and more.” Captain looks my way.

The corner of my mouth lifts, and my nostrils flare so I don’t tear up in front of him. “She’s very lucky.”

“I’m lucky,” he replies instantly. “We’re lucky. She’s just a child, getting what every child should. The...

“And yet places like Brayshaw, and the Brayshaw group home exists. Because even though no child should be raised in hate or anger or pain... we are.” I don’t realize I was whisperin...

stand, but Captain doesn’t let me pass. I look up and he gives a small smile. “You’ve been through some shit, more than I know, but you’re not hardened or bitter.” He shakes his head,...

“If you’re worried your little girl will grow and—” “I’m not,” he cuts me off. “I know she’ll be okay, better than. I want to know about you. How ...

My lips pinch into a tight smile as my shoulders lift and hold. “I had a brother who loved me, who I loved back. He told me our life was not what life was about, that we’d have more. I don’t think he believed it, but I believed him, and when things were da...

“It would have been easy to fall into the ugly surrounding us, and sometimes it took a lot of self-convincing to remember my brother’s promises, but living with what we did, it made the world around me so much clearer. It only took one glance or one nervous conversation of no importance with kids at school or wherever, to know they lived with darkness, too.” I look off. “Their eyes were a little dead, and I realized they didn’t have a brother like mine, someone to give them hope... a North Star to believe in, to... seek out for guidance when they felt lost.”

“So you gave them one.”

“You were strong for strangers. You helped them see there’s more. You were t...

“I tried.” My lips pull into a one-sided smile. “It was only words, a smile or someone to sit with at lunch, play with at recess.” “And the idea of more, the possibility of hope not lost. You gave them something they could reach for in the dark if all they had was themselves and the sky above them. That’s a fucking lot, Brielle.”

“It wasn’t really,” I say quietly. “But it was all I had to offer.”