Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(24)

Russell broke away on a growl to scoop her backside into his hands. Abby stared in awe at the transformation in him. His eyes were bright, as if he was running a fever. “If you weren’t a virgin, I’d have two fingers nice and deep.” He laid a kiss on top of her clit. “We’re going to keep this baby innocent today, though. Mostly. Nothing innocent about your legs wrapped around my head, is there?”

Abby double-checked through hazy vision and saw her legs were still spread. “L-legs wrapped around—” He sucked her clit into his mouth and Abby screamed, legs closing around him, thighs pressing against his ears. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

The hands on her bottom tightened, punishing her flesh with bruising strength as he sucked and released, flicked his tongue against her tortured bud, then sucked again. She loved the mix of pleasure and pain so much, she begged for his hands back when they suddenly disappeared. In the far-off distance, she heard the metallic zing of a zipper and the grunt that followed. His lips shook around her clit a moment, before they firmed again and gave one final pull, shooting Abby over the finish line.

“Russell,” she cried, reaching out to tug his head closer, without shame. She had no capacity to feel anything but beautiful, blazing relief as every muscle she possessed clenched like an iron fist. “I can’t breathe.”

Abby didn’t realize her eyes were closed until they opened to find Russell standing over her . . . with his erection in his hand. It looked heavy and painful as his touch moved base to tip in hurried movements, his ridged abdomen flexing as he stroked. “Jesus, I’m sorry. It’s too much. You know how f*cking sweet you taste?”

“What do you need?” The words tumbled out before she knew what they meant. Russell’s agonized groan hit her with a brutal punch, forcing her into a sitting position. “Do you want me to—”

He let go of his erection. Abby only had a second to watch in fascination as it bobbed against his belly, before he yanked her off the table, spun her around and bent her forward. “Say what you were going to say,” he demanded, laying his arousal on her backside and pumping his fist around it once more. “Do I want you to what?”

A mixture of shock and renewed heat coursed through her. She focused on the latter, marveling over how desired it made her feel. How bad. “Do you want me to suck it, Russell?”

Her name sounded strangled as he shouted it, just before she felt warm moisture coating her bottom. “Ah, Christ. Christ. That ass has been teasing me for months. I’d love to give it a good f*cking smack.”

“Do it,” she gasped, craving the new, the unexpected. Wanting to ease the misery she’d seen etched into his face even if she didn’t fully understand how it would help. “Please.”

Abby’s body jolted against the table, hips bumping the hard edge as Russell’s palm connected with her offered bottom. Her mouth fell open in a silent cry, fingers scratching at the table’s surface. Oh. I-I want more of that. A new, almost stickier pleasure ticked the inside of her thighs, feathered the inside of her belly. She wanted Russell to do it again so she could explore the new development, but her backside was covered with soft material—a T-shirt?—the evidence of what they’d done being wiped away.

When Russell finished, she turned to find him facing the other direction, refastening his jeans. His shoulder and back muscles were tense, movements jerky. Abby’s self-consciousness didn’t just creep in—it roared—until he glanced at her over his shoulder and she saw shame in his gaze as it moved over her.

“Goddammit.” His hands found his hips, head falling forward. “I told you, Abby. I told you, and you wouldn’t listen.” Then quieter, “I’m sorry, angel.”

Abby crossed to her discarded dress and stepped inside, pulling it back up around her, feeling as though she was preparing for battle. No . . . there was a battle there, right in front of her. Intuition wouldn’t let her deny it. The battle might not end today or in the near future. She didn’t know what the outcome would be should she lose or win. But she had no choice but to fight. Starting now. “I’m not sorry.”

“Oh, yeah?” His boots scraped on the floor as he turned, visibly pissed off. “Do you have any idea where these . . . things I want to do to you end? I don’t. I don’t know.” His Adam’s apple rose and fell. “How can I want to protect you and want to do them at the same time?”

Abby’s heart lurched. “Do you only want to do them to me?”

His breath whooshed out. An answer seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, but he turned away and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “This can’t be permanent, Abby. I’m sorry if that’s what you expected, but—”

“You’re not in the market for a girlfriend. I remember that part.” Pain and embarrassment threatened, but she kept her features schooled. Again, she experienced the feeling that something was eluding her. Sure, her physical relationships with men had been limited to awkward high-school dances and the rare kiss, but she couldn’t remember any of them behaving like Russell did when they touched. Would he treat any girl the same way? Her intuition said no, but if she pushed and turned out to be wrong, the resulting humiliation would be awful.

So he didn’t want a girlfriend. Did she want Russell to be her boyfriend? She hadn’t allowed herself to consider it, but now that her mind had presented the question?