Page 99 of Breaking Hollywood

“Fuck,” he groans, stilling. “You feel incredible.” His hand slides up my spine, and he gathers my hair up and winds it around his hand.

He presses a kiss to my back and then tugs my hair. “Hold on tight ’cause I’m gonna fuck you hard.”

Biting my lip, I stare over my shoulder at him.

He looks beautiful. Stunning.

And he’s all mine.

Every rough, gorgeous, dirty part of him.

“I like hard. So, give me everything you’ve got.”

His nostrils flare. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

His fingers on my hip bite into my skin. He tightens his hold on my hair, and then he starts to fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.

Hard and raw and maddening.

And I never want it to end.

Any of it.

Gabe

Life is good. Actually, it’s fucking great.

Things with Speedy are going really well. For the past three weeks, we’ve stuck to our rule. We keep our hands to ourselves during the day, and at night, we fuck like rabbits on Viagra.

I’m surprised I’ve managed not to fuck her in the daylight hours because she’s so damn sexy. But the wait until she’s off the clock is like the best kind of foreplay.

I can’t get enough of her. And it’s not just the sex. It’s her. She’s smart and funny—no one has ever made me laugh like she does—and she’s just so fucking gorgeous. I love spending time with her. She’s like no woman I’ve ever known before.

She sleeps in my bed every night, and of course, with her comes Gucci, who has set up a permanent sleeping residence on the chair in my bedroom.

But I don’t care. The goat has surprisingly started to grow on me. And, to have Speedy, I’ll take anything. Even a head-butting goat.

Speedy just got back from having an early dinner with her friend Logan. He’s gay. And, yes, I checked. Not that I don’t trust her. I just don’t trust other guys. I mean, look at her; she’s fucking beautiful.

She brought back take-out dessert. My favorite, raspberry cheesecake, because my girlfriend is awesome like that.

Hold the fuck up.

Girlfriend?

Is she?

We fuck. She spends every night in my bed. We live together.

So, yeah, I guess I’d say she’s my girlfriend.

Well, fuck me sideways. I have a girlfriend.

Not that we’ve actually put a verbal label on this thing between us, but she must know that she’s my girl.

And, right at this moment, my girl is in the kitchen, making me pizza for dinner.

Homemade pizza and cheesecake for dessert. A beer in my hand and the Lakers game about to start soon.