Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(45)

Abby nodded and placed her lips where he’d indicated. They plumped against his shoulder, reminding him they’d been on his dick just hours earlier. Don’t even think about a replay, or you’ll never last. The anticipation, the excitement in her eyes, the churning need for release clawing to get out became too much, and he shoved deeper, wincing at the tight fit. Something else was happening, too. A bone-deep impulse to ram himself home and lay claim to her in an irreversible way. Dammit, this is what he’d been terrified of. This ever-present conflict when it came to Abby. Never—ever—wanting to harm her while experiencing the sense that she wanted an unknown amount of . . . force.

“Russell, more plea—”

He drove his remaining inches inside Abby, her choked cry splitting the air between them. His instincts propelled him forward to cut it off with his mouth. Comforting words tried to find their way up his throat, but the pleasure choked him, made it impossible to speak. He hadn’t been ready. Never would have been ready for the tight clutch of her *, the sensation of her feet digging into his ass. Was she struggling or attempting to move, to get closer? He couldn’t hear or discern a goddamn thing over the rushing between his ears. Wake up, *.

“I won’t move. I won’t. Just tell me when—”

“Now. Now, please.”

“Thank f*ck,” he growled, rearing back with his hips and f*cking into her with a satisfying slap of damp flesh. “Ahhh God. Am I hurting you?” How would he stop if he was? It would be worse than losing a limb. Getting impatient for a response, he pushed her knees up toward her elbows and bore down. “An answer, Abby.”

“A little. It hurts a little.” Her teeth raked over her bottom lip. “But if you stop, it’ll hurt worse. Please.”

Not helping. She was as conflicted as him. “I waited too long. Let it build up too much. All this f*cking want.” Another tether inside him snapped loose, setting free the enveloping need to shake the confusion out of them both, force a decision. Russell lost his grip on control, or maybe he did it voluntarily. In one hand, he pinned Abby’s wrists over her head, bringing them face-to-face. A flicker of relief and encouragement made her eyes sparkle. Please don’t let me be imagining it. With the opposite hand, he gripped her jaw and tilted her head back in a single, rough movement. When he spoke, it was right up against her ear. “What did I tell you in my house that day, Abby? What do I want to do to you?”

He could feel the pulse in her neck racing, beating against the base of his hand. Trapped. He had her trapped, but she liked it. Her hips moved in restless figure eights beneath him, entreating him to thrust. Those heels were doing their thing, trying to find purchase on the backs of his thighs. “You . . .” She sucked in a breath, pushing her pointed tits into his chest. “You said you want to bang my little virgin brains out.”

“I meant it.” Attempting to bring himself down from the insane high of hearing those forbidden words out of Abby’s innocent mouth, Russell licked past her lips for a searing kiss. It didn’t work. All he could feel was the hot sensation of her * contracting around him. Pulse. Pulse. “Are you doing that? Are you . . . stop.”

“No.” Her swallow was audible because of the angle he still held her jaw. “You’re thinking too hard. We both know what . . . what you need. I need to be the one who gives it to you. Don’t take that away from me.” She writhed on the chair, gasping when he tightened his hold automatically.

“Stay still.”

He hated the almost total darkness and loved it simultaneously. Wanted to see her face in the light but didn’t want her to see his. As he released her jaw and used both hands to pin her, he had to look like an animal. He felt like one. He jerked his hips back and slammed forward, groaning at the welcoming slickness. The narrow perfection of her. Abby’s cry was absorbed by his chest, and f*ck, he loved that. Loved looking down and seeing her beneath him, feeling the vibration of his name as it passed her lips.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Again.”

If any remaining reservations still had a foothold, they slipped down the slope on which he’d been desperately attempting to balance. He didn’t recognize the words or sounds that left his mouth as he f*cked Abby, the girl he loved. Their bodies slid up and down against one another, moving in a frantic rhythm. His cock felt so full already, ready to spill, and Abby did nothing to help postpone the inevitable, wrapping her long legs around him and begging, begging. God, she was so gorgeous he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t deal with her beauty on top of the driving demand to claim her body. Satisfy her. Himself.

Knowing he only had a small window to get her off, Russell released her manacled hands and wedged a forearm beneath her hips. “Tilt them up, angel. Same way you did when I used my mouth. We’re going to find that sweet spot, aren’t we? I might be banging my little virgin, but I’m going to make her come, too. Always. That’s another one of my jobs, and I love it. Your come is mine.”

He broke off into a groan as Abby angled her hips with the aid of his lifting forearm. The new angle brought the base of his length into contact with her clit, and f*ck . . . the unsteady whimper of his name almost made him bust. She threw her head back on the chair and started to roll her body, meeting his pumps with incredible accuracy.

Meant to be with her. This was all part of some plan. His thoughts collided with his heart, sending it speeding out of control.