You Broke Me First – Danda K.

This book is recommended for mature readers due to its graphic language, explicit sexual content, and sensitive subjects including bipolar moodswings, depression, and mentions of suicide. If you or anyone you know is suffering with depression, thoughts of suicide, or self harm help is available and it’s confidential: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255 You are loved, you are wanted, and you are not alone. The world is a better place with you in it. PROLOGUE H MORGAN “Number is the ruler of forms and ideas, and the cause of gods and demons.” -Pythagoras ope. It’s embedded into the human mind from the earliest stages in life. No aspiration is too large for a kid with a mom or a dad spoon feeding them fables and other bullshit fairy tales their own parents fed to them. And so the cycle continues. They’re told all is possible as long as they try their best. Ace that test. Study hard. Shoot for the stars. But the stars have been around so much longer than we have, forced to be the sole targets of our shotgun ambitions. That’s why it shouldn’t come as a surprise when they become experts at dodging each of our bullets. Whether the words come from the caregivers, teachers, or an annoying as fuck uncle —kids are programmed to believe they’ll have the world at their feet as long as they want it bad enough.

It’s a great sentiment, except it’s complete and utter bullshit. Especially as they get older and come face to face with the real expectations and responsibilities these same parents so conveniently left out of their agenda to condition said kids. It’s even worse when you come from a family of obstinate, overbearing, and wealthy parents. They expect even more from the world, for less. It’s only their own hope they see, and it usually consists of their adult offspring wanting to be like them, to dream like them, to live like them. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t. This time, they don’t. Well, I don’t. What was once my father’s “you can do it” attitude at my tender age of five turned into “you better get it done” by the age of twenty-three. Truth. It’s what my parents failed to include in their endless array of childhood false promises. While I was busy dreaming of what’s to come—reality was sitting back, watching, waiting, and laughing in my unsuspecting face. Life is not lemons turned to lemonade, or some other catchphrase posted on a Facebook timeline in an attempt to uplift someone’s spirits. You can’t squeeze out the bitter truth, drop it into a large pitcher of water, and sprinkle some sugar in it to make it sweet.

It’s permanent, unrelenting, and you’d have a better shot of wringing out liquid from a stone than trying to escape it. Here’s my truth: I’ve wanted only one thing my entire twenty-three years on this planet: to be surrounded by numbers. Numbers are safe, calculable, and almost never lie. Unless, of course, you’re in the business of cooking them. Which I’m obviously not. Numbers will never fail you, never judge you, never try to force you into marriage or a different career path. Numbers don’t require hope, or complain when you never call after sex. They’re unwavering, precise, and never lead you astray. I never needed anything more than a warm body in my bed and the stability that I’ve learned to achieve on my own, without my parents’ money and status lurking in the shadows ready to take all the credit. Until one night, when reality decided to raise its ugly head and swing hard and fast. Tactics were sent crashing through the window, obliterating any chance I had at maintaining the balance. One party is all it took to form a crack in my plans. One girl is all it took to shatter them completely. 1 “Y MORGAN ou’re quiet tonight…” Casey frowns as she nudges my legs apart with her knees, bending over to undo my belt buckle. “Just enjoying the view, sweetheart.

” I spread my arms across the back of my gray leather couch, watching carefully as she undoes the button on my jeans. “I like the Gucci belt,” she traces the two G’s along the clasp with her thumb and quickly pulls it out through the loops of my pants. “Maybe next time you’ll buy me one, too?” She lifts a shoulder. “Maybe one that matches?” I give her the look. The same one she gets each time she presses further, trying to slither her way into making this something more than it is. It’s a mixture between a quirked eyebrow and a grin—telling her it will never be anything other than what we have right here for the next six hours, until the sun comes up and she’s out the door like always. Because that’s what she agreed to. “You know I can’t do that, Case.” There’s the slightest pout to her lips, but she doesn’t persist. Lifting her red dress over her head, Casey throws it to the side where it lands in front of the fireplace. The glow from the fire creates dancing shadows on her skin as her tits overflow from the sheer lace bra, making my cock jump to life in my pants. “I bought these just for you.” She hooks her fingers over the top of her stockings and shimmies out of them, revealing a black thong that matches. “Wasn’t that nice of you.” A devilish grin spreads across her face as she pulls down my pants and boxer briefs in unison.

I lift my ass for her, my cock springing free as they pass my hips on the way to my feet. Throwing my clothes aside, Casey drops to her knees, securing her long blonde hair in a high ponytail as her lust filled eyes bore into mine. Wasting no time, she wraps her hands around my hardened cock, her head descending too painfully slow toward the tip. She laps at the base a few times with her tongue before drawing me inside her mouth in one long movement. “You have the perfect cock.” She mewls as she begins to stroke it tightly in her hand. My head falls back, staring up at the ceiling as I feel her lips and hand squeeze around me. She bobs up and down, the strangled sound from my dick invading her throat filling the space between us. I close my eyes, my hips bucking as she relaxes her jaw to take me even deeper. “Just like that, sweetheart. You’re taking it so well.” I grip Casey’s ponytail, wrapping it around my fist as I guide her up and down with just enough force to bring me closer to the brink.


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Updated: 14 January 2022 — 11:05

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