Break Me (The Wolf Hotel Book 2)
Break Me: Chapter 13

“No! It’s your turn first this time,” the girl whispers.

“I can’t. I’ve been watching your ass in those tight jeans all night. I won’t last through it. But I won’t take long, I promise. And then I’ll be ready again by the time you’re done. Please,” James negotiates.

He must have convinced her because a moment later he lets out a low, “Fuck, yeah. All the way, baby.”

The muscles in Michael’s arms begin to cord, but otherwise he remains silent and still as we listen to some girl suck his roommate off.

I’m now wide awake, and suddenly feeling the urge to giggle, the reality of my night just too much.

“Shhh,” Michael whispers into my ear, but I can hear the amusement in his tone. He wants to laugh, too.

“How often do they do this?”

“A few times a week. That’s the problem with this setup. I mean, come on. There’s no privacy, so people either abstain for months or relax their need for privacy. Guess which option most people are leaning toward?”

I don’t know that Katie and Rachel have ever had a need for privacy to begin with.

James’s moans and whispered instructions are growing louder and more frequent as the minutes pass, and Michael’s heartbeat against my back is speeding up. He’s breathing heavier, too, and has shifted his lower half away from my body.

He’s turned on, listening to his friend get a blow job. I guess I can’t blame him for it. Listening and watching to Katie and Rachel in bed together affected me, too.

Finally, we hear James groan a warning of, “I’m coming.” It’s followed by a series of primal grunting sounds that sparks a tingling between my thighs, my own breaths coming harder and faster, by body naturally tensing.

The bed creaks loudly as they shift positions.

And the girl lets out a soft gasp.

I close my eyes and grope for Michael’s hand in the dark. He takes it, weaving his fingers within mine, tightening his hold as she moans.

I remember what that feels like, to have Henry’s face there. The first swipe of Henry’s tongue over my clit, the delicious burn of his stubble against my skin. It was excitement, and nerves, and anxiety, all mixed together.

All that time Michael spent working the knots out of my back seems pointless now, as tension seeps into my body once again, the knowledge that I’ll never feel Henry’s touch like that again excruciating.

The realization that his face is between someone else’s legs tonight, agonizing. I fight against the urge to begin crying again, focusing instead on the girl’s pants, picturing their naked bodies—tangled; imagining what it would feel like to be on my back, feeling that right now.

If this attractive, nice guy, who I would probably be fantasizing about had I never crossed paths with Henry Wolf, who is holding me tightly, had his face between my legs.

My chest is rising and falling with quick breaths, and a deep throb grows between my legs. I can’t relieve the pain in my heart, but I can relieve that discomfort, at least.

And why shouldn’t I?

Henry doesn’t care.

There’s a voice in the back of my mind, screaming at me to stop, to rethink this, to think about my values and what I’ve already given up. I force it aside, because neither that voice nor my values will help ease the emotional ache.

Steeling my nerve, I tighten my grip over Michael’s hand, and I move it toward my chest, pulling it under the covers, down along my curves, his knuckles skating over my nipple as I drag his hand farther down, all the way to the waistband of the boxers I borrowed from him, so loose they’ve practically slipped off me anyway.

I hesitate, but only for a second, until I remind myself that I want to not think about Henry and what he’s doing right now.

Michael tenses behind me, and for just a moment I worry that he’s going to refuse.

But then he shifts his body to press his long, hard erection against my backside.

I close my eyes and hold my breath as I drag his hand farther down, pushing the boxers down and unfurling my fingers from his to settle his hand on my smooth mound.

His shaky sigh skates across the side of my cheek, but he doesn’t hesitate, slipping a long finger through my wet folds, slowly and gently, the arm that my head is resting against curling, pulling my head tighter against his. Over and over, his finger slides back and forth, skating over my clit, never pushing inside me.

Making me grow incredibly wet with anticipation.

I’ve tuned out the girl next to us, my lips pressed firmly together to keep my own moans from escaping as Michael teases me mercilessly. I’m torn between staying still and rolling onto my back to give him better access.

Finally, on one of those lingering strokes over my opening, his finger doesn’t glide past, instead slipping inside me. My stomach muscles clench with the intrusion. “Is this because of me? Or them?” he whispers, his mouth pressed against my ear.

“Both,” I answer honestly, shamelessly.

I guess he’s okay with that answer. He tugs my boxers down, stretching to push them past my knees. I easily kick them off the rest of the way. With a hand on my inner thigh, he guides my leg up to curl over his, pulling my body back into him, opening me up to him. And then his hand is back between my legs, and he’s plunging two fingers deep inside me, as far as they can go. He replaces my clit with the pad of his thumb, and he begins circling it with the same skill he used to work the knots in my back.

I close my eyes and lose myself in both Michael’s hand and his lips, now trailing wet kisses along my neck, making me shiver.

Next to us, the girl lets out a deep, guttural moan, followed by a cry. That’s two girls I’ve heard come tonight.

I’m going to be the third.

The sounds of a bed creaking and foil tearing tells me they’re moving on to the third act next to us. It doesn’t bother me much, now that I’m minutes away from coming myself. “Oh, yeah,” James groans deeply, and I know he’s just pushed himself into her. My muscles clench against Michael’s fingers.

The repetitive squeak of the mattress and skin slapping begins. Michael grinds his hips into my ass, pressing his hard length against me. He’s practically panting, his warm breath kissing my skin in little puffs.

I begin to feel guilty. Everyone in here is about to get off, but him.

So I reach back and, with tentative fingers, slip inside his track pants, under his boxers, and wrap my hand around his girth. He’s big. Not as big as Henry, but still impressive. And so incredibly hard.

“Abbi,” he whispers against my ear as I slide my hand up and down his cock, the angle and the fact that he’s wearing pants making it awkward.

“Yeah?”

He hesitates before whispering, so quietly, “You can say no, and it’ll be okay but… I really need to be inside you.”

My hands stills, his request stealing my breath. Sex? With Michael? Just days ago, I was still a virgin. How did this happen?

Because I met Henry Wolf. That’s how this happened.

A pang twists my heart.

“Okay,” I hear myself whisper without thought. Because I don’t want to give room to focus on consequences or regrets or anything but my physical needs right now. Because I have this deep throb between my legs that I want relief from. Because I do like Michael and I replace him attractive.

We quickly adjust our bodies, me shifting to my back and him kneeling between my legs. The blankets have fallen off me, leaving me completely naked and exposed, but thankfully only as much as the low glow of the nightlight allows.

He’s fumbling with his things on the ledge, knocking stuff over. “Fuck, I know I have one somewhere here,” he mutters. He switches on the reading light.

Suddenly our little nook is flooded with light.

I tense, the urge to cover myself strong. Michael pauses in his search, his eyes flaring with desire as they take my body in, drifting from my breasts to my stomach, to the bareness between my legs. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Reaching over his head, he yanks his t-shirt off, and then pushes his track pants down past his thighs, letting me take in his naked body, his chest firm, his torso long and lean but layered with defined muscle, his erection standing tall, a bead of moisture resting on top. With another quick top-to-bottom look at me, his eyes like finger trails along my body, he focuses on the small ledge by the wall again, seizing a condom.

Ripping the wrapper with his teeth, I watch him roll the condom over himself. They’re still going strong next door, both of them grunting and moaning, completely unconcerned with us.

And I’m going to do this. I’m really going to have sex with Michael tonight.

“Can I?” I reach for the lamp, switching it off before he can deny me the option.

In the dim light, I watch Michael climb on top of me, my thighs spreading wide apart to accommodate his hips, and his cock, which is now sliding along my slit, the tip lining up with my entrance.

One quick thrust will get him inside me.

But instead of thrusting in, he leans down to cover my lips with his. His touch is soft, the gentle tentative strokes of a first kiss, as if we’re not seconds away from having sex. I open my mouth for him, and welcome his tongue against mine, tasting Michael for the first time. He eases my nerves with each pass of his tongue, his kisses growing deeper until the stubble from his chin scrapes across my skin.

He’s propped up on one elbow, but his free arm moves down my body to fill his hand with my breast, the pad of his thumb rubbing over my pebbled nipple in small circles. A thrill shoots down to my stomach, straight to my clit.

And so suddenly, he thrusts himself into me.

I cry out with the odd mix of pleasure and pain.

“You’re so tight,” he whispers against my lips, drawing his hips back and then pushing in again, sliding in deeper. I’m only somewhat conscious of the fact that James may be able to hear him say that, if they’re listening.

With each thrust, he moves deeper, until I’m stretched and completely full.

I’ve now officially had sex with two men. It’s an odd mental declaration to make. I wonder if every woman does this at that pivotal moment of a guy entering them for the first time, or is it just inexperienced women like me?

Michael’s so different from Henry. Where Henry took and demanded, Michael has tested and hesitated and waited. Up until now. Now there’s no hesitation, the bed creaking with each one of his thrusts, competing with his roommate. Two couples having sex no more than ten feet apart. I should be mortified but right now all I can focus on is how good this feels.

My hands slide all over him—over the stubble coating his jaw, over his broad, strong shoulders, tensing with his exertion, over the ridges of his sweat-slicked back—as my head falls back and I revel in the feeling of being joined with such an attractive man.

Of Michael wanting me.

“Oh, fuck! Yeah!” Next to us, James yells as he comes for a second time tonight.

A few hard, quick thrusts and Michael follows his roommate quickly with a deep moan, pulsing inside me.

That’s it?

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” he whispers against my mouth, his words between ragged breaths. “I tried to hold off, but I couldn’t help it.”

“That’s okay.” I swallow my disappointment, the heaviness in my belly still there but quickly morphing to a dull ache.

“Finish her off, man!” James hollers. “Come on, let’s race. Winner gets to watch.”

“Fuck off,” Michael growls.

“Fine. But still, race you.”

Michael chuckles. Planting a deep kiss on my lips, he whispers, “Just relax,” and then calls back, “You’re on,” as he slips down my body, taking the covers with him once again.

Oh my God. This isn’t happening, is it? They’re not actually going to—

A gasp escapes my lips as Michael’s tongue swirls around my clit for the first time. A second later, the girl echoes me.

This is actually happening.

Michael pushes my thighs apart as far as they can go and then, slipping both hands under my body, he angles my pelvis up, opening me up even more. I can see the glint in his eyes as he pushes his tongue into me.

As much as I want to stay quiet, I can’t. I revel in his talented mouth as he alternates between sliding it through my seam and sucking on my clit, the sound echoing through the cabin along with my whimpers and moans.

That now familiar burn begins to build in my lower belly again, the one that tells me I’m going to come soon, the one that makes me no longer care about who can hear or see what. I reach down to run my fingers through his short hair, using the leverage to pull his face tighter to me.

He answers by slipping first two, then three fingers in me, turning them sideways to stretch me, rubbing my inner wall, while his tongue laves over my clit, over and over and over again.

I’m moments away from coming and I’ve spread my legs wide. I wouldn’t care if we lose the race and earn an audience as James threatened. I buck against Michael’s face, my orgasm coming hard and fast. I let myself cry out, I let them all hear me come. Because there’s no point hiding it. And because I’ve already heard all of them come so we’re in this together. And because tonight, I just don’t care.

The girl orgasms seconds after me, maybe from sheer luck, or maybe because hearing me set her off.

Either way, all is suddenly and eerily quiet in the cabin.

Michael pulls his fingers out and kisses the insides of my thighs. He reaches for a tissue from the ledge. I quietly watch him slide off the cum-filled condom from his still-erect cock. “I’ll be back in a sec.” Tugging his pants up, he slips off the end of the bed, pushing the curtain open a touch. I listen to his feet pad softly along the floor to the powder room directly across. Light floods over me a second before the door shuts, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

And a sudden onslaught of guilt, something I don’t understand. Henry doesn’t care, so why would I feel guilty?

Maybe it has nothing to do with Henry. Maybe it has everything to do with becoming this person I never thought I’d be, who has casual sex, who listens and watches others having sex.

Who am I becoming?

I pull Michael’s t-shirt over me and tell myself that this isn’t a big deal. That Michael is a good guy who Mama would probably approve of, and if I was going to have sex with anyone tonight that wasn’t Henry, it should be Michael.

It’s really not a big deal.

The toilet flushes and a moment later the door opens again, giving me a great view of Michael’s taut stomach.

“Leave the light on,” James calls out. I hear his bare feet hit the wood floor.

“Dude! Come on!”

“What?”

A second later I see get my first look at James. Or, James from the waist down and buck naked, his semi-flaccid dick bobbing with his step. I close my eyes. I’ve seen three dicks tonight. Three!

James’s voice drops to a soft whisper, but I can still hear him when he asks, “Who?”

“Good night.”

“Fuck. Come on!”

“Night, Lorraine! Always a pleasure.”

I hear a muffled “Night,” and my mouth drops open. Lorraine? My roommate, Lorraine?

Michael pulls the curtain closed behind him and crawls into bed with me, resuming our precoital spooning position with a kiss along the back of my neck. He clearly wants me to stay the night. And, truth be told, I don’t want to be alone tonight.

“Did that make you feel better?”

I smile, and nod.

And close my eyes as the heavy weight settles on my chest once again.

~ ~ ~

I wake, my body draped over Michael’s, my head resting against his chest.

“…the fucking guy was so damn drunk, he pissed all over himself. And me!” A guy complains. “He couldn’t even remember his name. We had to carry him to his room. Fucking guy reeked of piss. So, yeah. Shitty night. I hate working foot security at these events.”

“Don’t blame you,” another guy mumbles, and I instantly recognize the Australian accent. That’s Andy, the guy assigned to be liaison to Roshana.

Damn her. Between Tillie cleaning her room and now Andy, Michael’s roommate and her liaison, I feel like I’m always two degrees of separation between knowing what she’s doing with Henry.

The security guy chuckles. “What the hell happened to you, anyway? She lock you up all weekend?”

“Dude. I don’t even know where to begin with her and her multiple personalities.”

“Yeah. Jerry said she’s prime-grade bitch. She returned a hard-boiled egg three times, yesterday? Something like that, anyway.”

Andy groans. “I think I’ve slept all of five hours since Friday. She made me sit in that little room and listen to her fuck all night on Friday.”

“Who?”

Andy snorts. “Who do you think?”

“Of course. Chick like that goes straight for the top dog.”

The top dog would be Henry Wolf.

I flinch, the brutal reality opening the emotional gash wide again. I feel sick. But not just sick. Anger is stirring deep within me. He had the nerve to deny it! To make me feel like not believing him would be my fault!

“At least you could tug one off in the privacy of your own little room, unlike this fucking place.”

Andy chuckles. “Yeah, there’s that. Still, she should have let me go home.”

A zipper unfastens somewhere in the cabin. “Maybe she was hoping you’d go a round with them. She looks like the type that’d take two dicks at once.”

“Two of something, anyway. Last night she came home with this smokin’ blonde and the boss, and—hey…” Andy’s voice drops. “Did Aspen finally hook up with someone?”

Aspen. It takes me a minute to clue in that he’s talking about Michael, who works at the Aspen Wolf during the winter.

Andy must have seen my clothes on the hanger.

The curtain shifts at the foot of the bed and Andy’s handsome face peers into our space. Thank God the covers are pulled over me to cover my naked bottom half.

“Fuck off,” a groggy Michael calls out. I didn’t even realize he was awake.

Andy ignores him, grinning at me. “Oh. Hey.”

I feel my cheeks flush. “Hi.” Great. Now Andy knows I slept over. How long before this gets around?

Andy climbs the ladder. The frame creaks as he stretches out in his bed. “I’ll be sleeping ’til Tuesday if anyone needs me.”

“Yeah. Hittin’ the showers. All this fucking piss,” the other guy mutters. The door opens and shuts, and all is silent in the cabin once again.

“Hey.” Michael’s fingers slide under my chin, lifting my face to his. He lays a light kiss on my lips, and his arm tightens around my body. “Are you feeling better, today?”

I offer him a weak smile.

No, I’m not. This all feels wrong. Being here, in Michael’s bed. In his arms. I should never have slept with him last night. I used him. Like, really and truly used him, and he doesn’t deserve that. He’s a nice guy, and I think he may like me.

His fingers graze over my cheek, pushing strands away. “What are you thinking about?”

Henry.

Going to Henry’s house at 1:00 p.m. Telling him… what? He demanded an answer today on whether I’m staying or going. I don’t know yet. All I know is that I can’t work for him anymore.

Why is he doing this to me? Isn’t it better for him if I’m not there every day? Maybe he doesn’t want to outright fire me, though. Me quitting to go back home would probably look better than him firing me and looking for a new assistant.

But, heck, I’d think he’d want to appease me. I’m a risk to him now, all emotional and hurt. He has that mess with Kiera to deal with. The last thing he needs is me around, telling people that he screwed me, too.

A thought strikes me.

Maybe I need to remind him of that.

I wriggle free of Michael’s arms. “I’ve gotta get to work.”