Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(58)

“I can live with that,” she gasped. He gathered a handful of shower spray to wash away the soap, his cock jerking at the sight of water rushing over her smoothness. Compelled, he licked out and took his first taste, just a gentle lapping of her clit. And oh shit. That white-grape scent that drove him crazy was now a flavor, going all the way back to his throat. His hands moved on their own, digging into her ass cheeks and yanking her forward, grinding her * against his mouth. He delved with his tongue and sucked, her cries to keep going entirely unnecessary. Making him stop would be like dragging an alcoholic from their first morning drink. “Russell, I’m . . . going to—”

When she broke off in a scream, the wet, shaking perfection against his lips would have sent him crashing to his knees if he weren’t already there. His hand dropped from her ass to stroke his length, fast and rough, mind spinning in circles with the taste of Abby. But when her foot slipped on the bathtub floor, and she wobbled, Russell shot forward with a shout, wrapping his arms around her middle. Somehow, the residual fear of Abby’s getting hurt only made his urgency to get inside her soar. “Need to get you out of this tub . . . you could slip—”

“No. Please, I need—”

“Can’t chance it.” He was already out of the shower, dragging Abby into his arms and carrying her to the sink vanity. And Jesus, Abby dripping wet, looking well pleasured and slightly miffed, was just about the sexiest goddamn thing he’d ever seen in his life. Feeling a surge of love and protectiveness so strong he could barely breathe, Russell pressed their foreheads together. “Do I need to remind you I’d lose my mind if something happened to you? Do I?”

“No,” she whispered, the irritation fading from her eyes, once again being replaced with heat. “Even if I don’t understand it . . . it’s you. My Russell.”

“Say that again,” he begged, squeezing her hips in his hands.

She surprised him by turning around, locking her gaze on his reflection in the fogged-up mirror. Then she pressed her ass into his lap and twisted her hips, ruining him for any other experience life had to offer. “My Russell.”

His cock surged under her declaration of ownership—ownership he hadn’t known he’d been craving—blowing his restraint out of the water. He gripped his throbbing inches and tucked the head between her smooth thighs. “This how you want it, angel? A little dirty? You want to watch me try to hold back and fail?” He pushed the top half of her body forward, looked down at her sweet, perked-up ass. “Ah, Christ. This is going to end with you screaming.”

She reached back and urged his hips forward. “I want to scream.”

Goddamn. Russell wedged his forearm between her stomach and the vanity, refusing to leave a single mark on her body this time. He gripped her chin in the opposite hand, tilting her face up. “I don’t ever want to be inside anyone else, Abby. I want you to unzip my pants whenever you’re wet and know I’ve been waiting—just f*cking waiting—to get inside my girl’s *. I want you to forget how it feels to sit down anywhere but my lap, right on top of my dick. Yours. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

Her eyes had darkened with each word, her breath joining the steam to fog up the mirror. “I want that, too. All of it.”

“You have it.” He pressed his mouth to her ear, gave a quick pump of his hips against her still-slippery ass. “You’re tight enough without your thighs squeezed together. Spread them for me, Abby.”

She’d only put a sliver of room between her legs when Russell thrust his entire length inside her. His hand dropped from her chin to catch her when she fell forward with a muffled cry. “Oh my God. So big . . . so big.”

“Jesus.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Don’t say that.”

Her breaths came out sounding more like sobs. “Y-you don’t like hearing that?”

“Every guy likes hearing that, Abby.” He ran his teeth up the side of her neck, struggling like hell to maintain some sense of control. Over his body. Over his emotions. “Just save it for next time, okay? When I don’t have five days’ worth of needing to f*ck you weighing down my balls.” He reared back and thrust deep, felt her * stretch around him. “You feel it?”

“Yes. I feel it, I feel it.”

Knowing he only had a few minutes before he lost the battle with his lust, Russell dropped his forehead onto Abby’s shoulder and set a slow rhythm. “It’s got to be inside you this time. I’m not pulling out of all this tightness.”

“I don’t want you to,” she breathed. “Please, don’t.”

Ah God, the little muscles in her * were gripping him, making each stroke mind-blowing. So f*cking hot that his pace kicked up a notch, as he’d known it would. The heavy flesh hanging between his thighs slapped her with each pleasure-seeking drive, echoing off the slick bathroom tile. He was grunting like a goddamn animal, and he didn’t give a f*ck, it felt so good.

Abby pushed her legs apart a few more inches, and white light flashed in his vision. No way he’d just sunk even deeper. No way. He lifted his head to see her eyes closed tight, mouth open, tits bouncing as he broke her off.

And felt his control begin to slip. “Hips tilted back. The way you do when I’m giving you my mouth. I want your ass up on my stomach. Do it.” His hand found her backside, palm tingling with the need to slap it. But he tamped down on the impulse and drove into her harder, instead. Harder, harder. “Ask me for it, Abby. Ask me to give you what I’ve been storing up.”