Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(13)

Her body jolted forward as Russell’s hips bucked behind her—once, twice—then started to move in tandem with his fingers’ movements. A tight stroke of her sensitive nub, a sensual drag of his arousal up and down the curve of her ass. There was no ending this, no way. Reason had gotten tangled up in the lusty fog encompassing the bed. Her thighs were a restless mess on either side of his hand, her belly shuddering, her back bowing against his chest. She gasped and cried into the pillow as her body sprinted toward the finish line. Yes, yes.

When the orgasm crested over her, Abby’s heels dug into the mattress to push herself back into the welcoming strength of his body, bearing down on his pleasure-giving hand at the same time. And God, even with the wicked climax turning her inside out, she wanted to feel his erection against her backside. Wanted to tempt him to do something about relieving the hunger she sensed in him. Already, his movements were growing uneven, staggered, his breathing ragged at the back of her neck.

“Yes,” he grated. “That’s how I make you come. Hard as f*ck when you’re in my bed. That’s the way I do it.”

Still shaken, Abby found herself nodding, because holy crap, he was right. She’d never come that hard in her life. But this wasn’t his bed, like he’d said. It was hers. Russell still wasn’t fully awake, and she’d already let this situation go on too long.

“Russell,” she breathed, biting her lip when he started to strum her clitoris with his thumb and her muscles tightened with anticipation once again. “Russell, we can’t—”

“I know, angel. I know.” He sounded miserable, giving her immediate pause. When had Russell ever sounded like that? “Can’t get what I need in real life. Fuck, I won’t even let myself take it when I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not dr—”

Russell rolled Abby onto her belly with one, whip-tight action. Then he . . . climbed on top of her, wedged an arm beneath her hips, and yanked them up into the cradle of his lap. Ohhh. Her insides were clamoring with the new, sudden position. It was bad. And incredible. She hadn’t managed to get leverage with her arms, leaving her cheek pressed down into the pillow where her harsh breaths were absorbed. What was he going to do? She should stop him now, but if he did, she would always wonder what came next. Twenty-four years old and a virgin. This had been so long in coming, and she’d dreamed of it so many times. The flesh between her legs craved the feeling of fullness, didn’t care if it hurt. God, at this point, she’d welcome the promised flash of pain just to feel something.

Russell took hold of her skirt’s hem and lifted, leaving the material gathered around her waist. The arm beneath her hips flexed and tightened as his hips started to move, his denim-clad arousal using the damp friction to pump between her thighs, making love to Abby through the barrier of her panties. Light winked behind her eyes as a new, kinkier kind of desire burrowed itself under her skin, raising goose bumps as it went.

“More, Russell,” she cried out, shuddering as he drove against her faster. “Please.”

“Can’t have that *. Can’t have it. Stop trying to give it to me.” She felt his forehead press into the crook of her neck and turn, his mouth finding her ear. “This is my dream, isn’t it, angel? Always a f*cking dream.” His hand worked between their bodies, his big fingers hooking into the top of her underwear and dragging it down, exposing her. “Maybe I’ll work myself into your tight ass tonight.”

Then he slapped her bottom. Hard.

“Russell,” Abby shouted, staggered by what she’d just heard. Felt. The unexpectedness of it, by the usually overprotective Russell making her flesh sting. Mostly her mind reeled over the fact that she still didn’t want him to stop. One of the primary reasons she’d been attracted to Russell’s personality was his irreverence. The way he treated her like she wouldn’t break under a little disapproval . . . and his palm snapping against her backside took those feelings and turned them up full blast.

Abby’s thoughts had distracted her from Russell’s sudden stillness, but she noticed it now. Noticed his panting breaths echoing in the dim bedroom. His hardness was still nestled in the valley of her bottom, but he didn’t move. With every ounce of her will, she silently begged him to continue but knew deep down, he wouldn’t. She’d shouted his name for that very reason. Or maybe her conscience had forced it out of her. The situation had gotten beyond her. She’d already let it go too far, and any further would be catastrophic. Maybe it already was.

“What the hell, Abby?”





Chapter 5



RUSSELL HAD BEEN having the best dream. When you’re hard up for a virgin, dreams were really all you had, so he dreamed a lot. Fantasized more than was probably healthy. In bed, in the shower, while operating heavy machinery. It was never anyone but Abby. Christ, the pathetic truth was, he couldn’t even get his cock up for anyone else. There had been opportunities in bars with flirtatious girls, chances for a possible hookup, and every time—every single time—he had walked away, gone home, and dreamed about making Abby come. With his hands and mouth, almost every time. Another sad detail of his f*cked-up condition. His dreams were about making her come, all the while leaving her virginity intact. Fantasies that were more satisfying than some random one-nighter with a stranger.