Heart Broke (Hard Rock Roots Book 8) by C.M. Stunich Page B

sucked into the dead and the bones and the ashes.
    “I really want to give it a go,” I tell Sydney as she turns around and looks up at me, her blue eyes searching my face for a long, long moment. Something flickers there, a flash of fear that makes my chest tighten and the breath rush from my lungs. I'm waiting with bated breath for an answer, following the path this girl takes through the garden of stone and statues, weeping angels with faces tilted towards a quiet sky. “Tell me you're along for the ride. I mean, we're basically living together now, right?”
    “About that …” Sydney says turning around and perching on the top of a headstone. Her yellow earrings swing enticingly, this splash of neon in an otherwise colorless world. I tuck my fingertips into my pockets and step close. If this is a rejection … well, fuck. It better not be. “I figure if we're gonna fuck on a regular basis, we might as well share a room.”
    Sydney glances up with a grin.
    “What do you say, Little Drummer Boy? You want to share a room with me? It'll make Trey and Turner flip a bitch, that's for sure. Just to see their reactions, it'd be worth it.”
    “Just to be with you it'd be worth it,” I tell her and then step close, pulling my hands from my pockets and resting my fingers on Sydney's bare knees, pushing them apart and drawing a sharp gasp from those bubblegum pink lips. “So that's a yes to dating? I need to hear you say it.”
    “That's a yes,” Sydney says as I reach down and pop the button on her shorts, curl my fingers around the waistband and draw them down her hips. “You're really down for doin' it in a graveyard?” she asks, her voice breathy and husky with need. “Some people might call this sacrilegious, a one way ticket to hell and all that jazz.”
    “It was your idea,” I say, dragging the shorts off and over Sydney's boots, dropping them to the grass beneath our feet. No panties. Dear God, help me. “So I figure you'll be the one paying the piper.” I take a small step back, pushing Sydney's knees even further apart. She spreads them wide, no hint of embarrassment or shame in her gaze as I take a long, lingering look at her bare cunt. Well, her almost bare cunt. “Is that a heart?” I ask with raised brows. “And a … ring? How did I miss this before?”
    Sydney runs her hand down her tummy and traces the pink fucking heart of hair above her clit.
    “I'm a stripper, remember? Everyone has to have a gimmick. This is mine. And come on, the last two times we fucked, you weren't exactly looking. ” She smiles, and it's wicked hot, slicing across her face in a curved pink line. “I felt all your little secrets though.” Sydney plays with the ring through her clit.
    She's got her pussy pierced; my dick is pierced.
    Maybe we're a match made in heaven?
    “Fucking Christ, Sydney, you're going to undo me.” I suck in a harsh breath, my cock tight and thick against the inside of my jeans. I'm sure I've already wet my pants, leaked pre-ejac all over the denim. I can't help myself. When I look at this girl, I'm beyond ready. Desperate. Wild.
    I kneel down and slide my fingers along the smooth, bare skin of her inner thighs, my knees sinking into the dirt. Beneath us, there's a coffin buried six feet under. Up here, there's a girl with fish tattooed on her ankles, a pierced clit and … a pink fucking heart above her pussy.
    “You're like fucking dirty candy or some shit,” I whisper, lost for words, dropping my mouth to Sydney's warm heat, sliding my tongue along her slit and tasting that same wild floral taste that's all over her skin. She's frigging flavored, this chick.
    Sydney buries her fingers in my hair, squeezing hard, letting her head fall back, moonlight slicing across her throat and drawing silver lines on her pale skin. I kiss my way up to that heart, slide my tongue around it and then move back to her piercing. I can't keep my teeth away from it, nibbling on the warm metal and tugging it