Love Me Broken by Lily Jenkins

Author:Lily Jenkins [Jenkins, Lily]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Amazon: B00MQZ2IPC
Published: 2014-09-25T23:00:00+00:00

I call Adam that night, after I’ve had time to think things over. He picks up on the second ring.

“I was wondering when you’d call,” he says. I can tell he’s smiling.

“You know,” I tease, “the phone works both ways.”

“Noted.”

“And texts don’t count as calls.”

He laughs. “Of course not.” Then he’s quiet a moment. “So,” he says, “what are you up to?”

There’s a hint of sex in his voice that makes my heart race. I’m sitting on my bed at home. It’s dark outside, and I’ve only got one lamp lit on my dresser. It fills my room with warm pink light.

I hadn’t intended on starting anything with him tonight. This was supposed to be a call to vent, perhaps ask his advice about Nicole. But now that I hear his voice, I suddenly don’t care about Nicole anymore. Suddenly, I’m too distracted by other possibilities.

I sit up a little and listen for noise in the rest of the house. Nothing.

“Not much,” I say. “Just hanging out in bed.”

Another beat of silence. Then, in a low voice, he asks, “What are you wearing?”

I look down at my pajamas: an old T-shirt and silk shorts. “Hold on,” I whisper. Then, almost shaking with nerves, I get up and lock my door. My parents never come in anymore, but no sense taking chances. I hop back onto my bed. “Just a beat-up old shirt and some shorts.”

He moans a little. “No underwear?”

“I don’t wear them to bed.” I try to keep my voice light, but my breath is increasing, and my free hand is already moving down, playing lightly on my stomach before sliding farther. “What about you?”

“Some jeans,” he says. “No shoes though, or socks.” I can almost hear him grin. “I’m not wearing a shirt either.”

I picture his chest in my imagination. I haven’t seen him shirtless yet, but I’ve felt his chest and flat stomach through his clothes.

“Although,” he continues, “thinking of you, I might have to take off my jeans pretty soon. There’s not so much room in them anymore, and it’s starting to get painful.”

Jesus. I remember his bulge, and instinctively my free hand goes down to touch myself. “You should take them off,” I say, almost shocked at my forwardness.

“I will if you will,” he says.

“Okay.” I put the phone down for a second and pull off my shirt. Then I wiggle out of my shorts and toss them to the ground, slipping naked under my cold sheets. “Okay,” I tell him. “They’re off.”

“Mmm,” he moans. “I wish I was there.”

“What would you do?” I ask.

“First,” he says, “I’d start with your neck. That spot right by your earlobe that drives you crazy. I’d lick it, and then bite your earlobe softly, before kissing my way to your mouth. Then we’d kiss, our bodies pressed up against each other.”

I imagine him doing this, feeling his skin touching mine, his lips and tongue on my mouth. “It feels good,” I tell him.

“Then I’d work my way down with my tongue.

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