Page 82 of Live for Me

When she didn’t answer, a rough, dark chuckle left me, and I slowly rose over again, holding her eyes. My fingers brushed against her clit, the slight movement causing her back to arch, and she broke our gaze, whimpering. My head ticked to the side, jaw tight. “You want to come, you fucking beg for it. You know the rules.”

Memories of pleasure surrounded us now, lust and love filling our lungs, re-igniting the addiction to each other we’d prayed time would heal. Time didn’t heal shit. It only made me love her more, want her more, desire her more. I leaned down, brushingmy lips against hers, my fingers flicking that little bundle of nerves one more time, just to tease her. “What are you in the bedroom, Abbie?”

A sound of desperation left her, and she lifted her hips, searching and seeking my touch. I shook my head once, tightening my grip around her wrists.“What. Are. You?”I growled. Her eyes were glittering with a mix of defiance and submission.

She licked her lips, inhaling a shaky breath.

I waited.

Fuck, I waited. I needed her submission. I needed this to be fucking real. If she submitted here and now, I would have the truth. If she submitted to me, she still loved me, and the last six years had been a fucking lie.

Her next words were soft and filled with need. “I’m your little fuck toy, Beau.”

My fingers were back on her clit, rubbing in quick circles as my jaw went slack, the sight of her mouth opening on a silent scream nearly making me come in my Wranglers.

She was too beautiful for her own fucking good. She was put on this Earth to drive a cowboy like me insane.

I grunted, adjusting my hand between her legs, bringing my thumb to her clit while I slowly pushed two fingers into her slick heat. I bit down, my jaw popping at the feel of her squeezing and soaking my fingers. Jesus, she felt like heaven—my heaven. “Fuck,” I barked, pulling them out slowly before shoving them back in, my thumb still working her clit.

She bucked and bowed underneath me, her hips chasing the pleasure my hand was giving her while her back arched, pulling at the hold I had on her hands. A cry erupted from her lips, her eyes fluttering closed, her thighs shaking again. I read her body like an open fucking book, a book written for me and me alone.No other man could ever have this—no other man would have this.

Abbie Spears was mine.Forever.

“You gonna come for your cowboy like a good little fuck toy? Hm?” I taunted, my voice low as she turned her head to the side, gasping for air.

I dipped my head, my lips finding her neck, and as I fucked her roughly with my hand, I placed gentle kisses on the sensitive skin of her neck, the contrast sure to send her over the edge.

“Yes, yes, yes! Beau! Yes!” she chanted, breathless.

My lips found her ear, giving her permission. “Make a mess on me, Wildflower,” I whispered sweetly.

A low moan spilled from her lips as her walls clenched around my fingers, but that didn’t stop me from curling them, touching her G-spot with just the right amount of pressure. Warmth flooded my hand and wrist causing me to let out a low growl as the wet sounds from her filled the room. I kept at her, dragging out her pleasure, causing her to squirt again.

“That’s it. That’s my good little fuck toy,” I praised roughly, her cum covering me, the sheets my jeans. “Soak me, Abbie. Fucking mark me.”

Her head twisted from side to side, and she tried to get out of my hold. “Beau! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she chanted.

A few moments later, when her body stopped jerking from the aftershocks, I gently pulled my fingers from her heat. She watched with heated eyes as I brought them to my mouth. Her sweet tasted exploded on my tongue and I muttered a curse, my eyes dropping to stare at the mess I caused. Gently, I removed her panties and tucked them into my pocket.

“B-Beau?”

“What is it, Wildflower?” I asked, slowly looking back up to her face. Her skin was flushed, tinted pink and glowing. Shehad always been beautiful, her beauty only amplified after an orgasm.

She was an artist, but she would always be the most beautiful piece of art I’d ever seen.

“What happens now?” Her question was soft as if she was almost too afraid to ask it.

“We take it one day at time,” I answered, shifting off the bed, rising to my full height. She stared up at me, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. Without another word, I bent and lifted her out the bed, cradling her against my chest, her long legs hanging over the crook of my arm. Instantly, her arms locked around my neck, and she looked down to the bed, then to me.

“What are you doing?” she breathed out.

“Taking it one day at a time.”

There was nothing I else I could tell her, not right now.

I just added another thing to my to-do list: finding the people who made her leave me. Silently, I carried her into my bedroom. “Get settled,” I murmured, setting her on the right side of the bed and pulling the covers over her. “I’ll be back.”

After I checked the perimeter, checked the doors, and shut down the cabin for the rest of the night, I went back into my bedroom to find her asleep, curled up on her side. I stripped and crawled in behind her, locked my arm around her waist, pulling her back against me, and for the first time in a long time, things felt right.

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