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Post Breakup Sex
Post Breakup Sex
(The Copperline Series)
by
Sibylla Matilde
by
Sibylla Matilde
~ Synopsis ~
She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Pure class. Old
money. I never stood a chance... until she broke up with her dickhead of a
boyfriend and went off the rails.
Brannon Forrester doesn't expect much from
life. He coasts through aimlessly. No real ties. Nothing to hold him back.
Hanging out with his best friend, lead singer of a local bar band, he lives for
pleasure, out of the spotlight but with all the excess of the band's small-town
fame. After all, why should he be good when the only woman he really wants will
never give him the time of day?
Then, one night at an after party, Sophie
Buchanan walks through the door. In an attempt to throw caution to the wind and
dream out loud, she looks to him as a guide to the wild side. As someone who
can show her all the excitement and recklessness her world has been missing. He
plunges her into a reality of fervent passion... and heartbreaking betrayal.
Their roles have been set. He has only ever
been a good time. She has only ever been a pretty face. It would be insane for
them to fall in love. But when emotion complicates lust, can the caution of the
mind suppress the will of the heart?
*** Mature Content; Strong Language; Strong
Sexual Content with m/f, m/f/m, and a taste of f/f/m ***
~ Excerpt ~
I think it was the shirt that
sealed the deal that night. It seemed to get me laid more often than not,
really. Big white block letters that said “Orgasm Donor” across the black
fabric that, to be quite honest, was maybe a size too small. Fortunately, I was
six feet three inches and had the muscular bulk to carry it off.
I leaned against the counter that separated
the open kitchen from the great room. The house was pretty massive, but when you
had four guys and a shit ton of equipment to keep handy, you needed a pretty
big place. Not very clean, though, which you’d expect considering the band
members that lived here. More of a party spot, a place to sleep off the raucous
lifestyle. And it was my home away from home when the confines of my own
mediocre apartment started feeling a little cramped.
It had been a long week at the garage,
difficulty in finding parts, people not wanting to pay their bills, all kinds
of shit. My grampa had left me the business that had supported his family for
fifty years. Back when I was a teenager, I’d spent enough time with him to know
the headache that it entailed, but this week had just really sucked. Maybe he
should have left it to my sister. She was the steady one, the responsible one.
I was, well… not.
I was only twenty-four, for fucks sake.
So I scanned the room to see who might be
willing to slip away and entertain me for the evening. I needed to lose myself.
I was pissy and tired, which meant I needed to fight or fuck, and fucking would
hurt less in the morning.
Laura was eyeing me from across the room.
She wasn’t too bad the first time, but I was a little concerned that she might
start getting clingy if I gave her much encouragement. I couldn’t deal
with clingy. It was hard to be fun when faced with clingy, and I kinda liked
being fun. I didn’t want to be an asshole, but sometimes asshole was the only
language clingy could understand.
Looking on through the crowd, it occurred to
me that Pauline looked pretty hot tonight. And, bonus, she was a bit more laid
back about things. I’d actually done her a couple times, and she was far from
clingy, mostly because she sort of seemed to like variety. She’d also done
Denny, Justin, Cody, and Drew.
And Maggie.
One night, she did Drew and Maggie…
together. From what Drew told me, that was kinda how he and Maggie hooked up in
the first place. I took a swig of my beer wondering if I was up for her
tonight. She was quite adventurous. But then Justin sidled up beside her and proceeded
to start sucking at her neck.
I’d shared with Justin once before. Sadly, I
barely remembered the girl, which sort of made me feel shitty, but I had been
really drunk. I’d just finished off just over half of a bottle of Jack. And it
had been dark. The whole experience was a bit of a haze. Not one I was
sure I wanted to repeat.
I scoped out the room a bit more. As big as
the place was, it was damn near wall-to-wall, and people were still showing up.
I saw Lily walk in and considered her for a second. I’d never had her. Cody
had, and he seemed to think she was worth another round sometime. She turned
back to the door, still open behind her, and motioned for someone to follow
her. And then, she walked in.
Sophie fucking Buchanan.
What in the actual fuck was she doing here?
For a second, I thought I was seeing things.
Not only was she here, at a band party, but that preppie dickhead boyfriend
wasn’t with her. She looked different. Way different. My first thought was that
Lily had likely given her a slutty makeover. Thick black eyeliner, ruby red
lips, her blonde hair wild and full and falling in luscious waves around her
bare shoulders with bright streaks of pink and purple and blue. Her little
strappy shirt displayed the top curves of her breasts and ended just above an
incredibly short, tight skirt. A skirt that ended a few good inches above some
killer thigh-high boots.
Boldly holding Sophie’s gaze as she locked
onto mine, I did the whole smolder thing that generally made panties drop all
over town. Her head tilted a bit to the side and, even from a distance, I could
see a flush color her cheeks. I could see her breath catch.
She glanced down at my shirt, and for just a
moment, her eyes showed a faint hint of shock. She quickly schooled her
features, though, masking her expression as Lily murmured something into her
ear. Sophie looked over at her pensively, then glanced back in my direction.
Lily told her something else which made Sophie shake her head ever so slightly.
Then she took a deep breath, grazed her tongue across her lips, and left Lily
to weave her way through the crowd.
Towards me.
And I felt a huge surge of blood rush right
to my junk.
The closer she got, the harder I got. I’d
only ever seen her from a distance, and she was way hotter than I’d thought,
even under the thick make-up. I could imagine her plump lips wrapped around my
cock. My mouth watered to taste the smooth, buttery skin of those spectacular
tits. As she stepped up to me, I realized that her eyes were almost a deep
blue-green, not the baby-blue I’d imagined, and I wondered how they’d look all
heavy with lust as she rode me to exhaustion. The tousled blonde of her hair
framed her heart-shaped face, the multicolored streaks grazing the opalescent
bare skin of her shoulders.
She stepped up to me and glanced pointedly
back down at my shirt. I prepared myself for a scathing comment. Every time I’d
seen her before, she simply oozed class. Money. Style. High society, and, once
again, I could only wonder what the fuck she was doing here.
I coolly took a sip of my beer, tipping the
bottle back between my thumb and forefinger, and waited for her to talk.
Lowering the bottle, I offered it to her. A dare. A test. She hesitated just a
second before taking it and, not taking her eyes off mine, sucked it back.
Oh... The way her lips curved around the
bottle had my already dirty thoughts turning truly sordid. Those lips would
feel awesome wrapped around my dick. With the first taste, she hardly contained
the clear indication that she rarely, if ever, drank beer. The tip of her
tongue slipped out to catch a stray drop as she tilted the neck of the bottle
to touch the letters on my shirt.
“Can you deliver on that promise?” she
asked.
~Links to Buy ~
~About the Author ~
Sibylla
Matilde grew up in the mountain valleys of Southwest Montana exploring the
dusty Old West gold country on the back of a horse. She attended a two-room
schoolhouse beginning in 1st grade & had the same teacher until
she changed schools after 7th. Beginning at about age 12, Sibylla
discovered historical romance, feeding off of work of Jude Deveraux & Lisa
Kleypas. She loves a book that can make the reader run the gamut of emotions,
from the sweet glow of new love to gut-wrenching heartache. She is a true
romantic & always has stories floating around in her head, living in a
fantasyland until she writes them down to free them.
Music is her emotional trigger.
Growing up with a Wagnarian-loving mother, Sibylla was raised to treasure music
that digs deep into the psyche, drawing out elation, sorrow, grief, desire. The
soundtrack to her life includes many genres spanning centuries. She
looooooooves Thirty Seconds to Mars (rather obsessively, actually…
but, really, how can you NOT be crazy about this guy!? Jared
Leto. Shhh. ) & pimps
them out to all her friends through Spotify. She also delights in Met Opera
HD broadcasts at her local movie theater & hopes (listening Met?)
to someday see Diana Damrau reprise her role as Mozart’s Queen of the Night in
Die Zauberflöte. Sibylla lives with her husband and hero who saved her from her
own calamitous, young-adult self. He makes her laugh daily, even when things
are tough. He’s proved to her that love really can heal a shattered soul. In 18
years, they have never had a fight, although argue regularly with their two
teenage kids who have, unfortunately, inherited their father’s quick wit
(unfortunate as it is a quick wit that Sibylla, herself, definitely does not
possess – there is a reason she is a writer & not a stand-up comedian).
They live a quiet life with their two weird little rescued Chiweenies. Wait…
teenagers & little yap-dogs? OK, maybe not so quiet.
~ Connect with Sibylla ~
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