Page 94 of Live for Me

It was supposed to make this easier.

Finding a valid reason to hate him would give me the freedom to walk away—for good.

He didn’t need me. I was nothing but a mess, a fucking burden.

“All that fucking time we lost,” he growled, pulling me from my thoughts. I blinked, and my cowboy shook his head, his upper lip curling. “All that fucking heartbreak and pain.”

“B-Beau,” I pushed out on a gasp, my hands going to his forearm. “You don’t—”

“—Understand?” he cut me off, raising a brow. A dark chuckle left him then, and he began moving me again. “Oh, Wildflower, I understand completely.”

The back of my legs hit the edge of the dining table, and my eyes widened as he leaned me back. He forced a strong, jean-clad leg between mine as his hand on my hip slid down to my thigh and underneath my dress. His rough fingers traced the line of my panties seconds later, and my nipples pebbled.

Great to know my body had never been on board with my plan.

His eyes dropped down, a slow, arrogant smirk forming on his handsome face. “Bet that needy cunt is soaked too,” he rumbled before finding out for himself, cupping me.

“What is it?” I breathed, trying to ignore my body’s reaction, the need pulsing in my clit at the absence of him between my legs. “W-what do y-you understand?” My words were choppy, the heat of his body against mine making me dizzy with need.

Those eyes snapped back up to mine, and my breath caught. “I understand why you had to completely destroy me, baby,” he murmured as he pressed the heel of his palm against me, moving it in a slight circle.

The pressure was almost too much.

Logic faded away, and my hands scrambled to find his shoulders.

“But I’m about to get what I’m owed,” he added, his attention dropping to his hand between my legs. My eyes followed his and even more arousal flooded my core.God, this fucking cowboy.

His strong, thick, tanned forearm poked out from my dress, the feminine fabric against it driving me insane. My fingers curled into his flannel as my eyes traced the length of his veins, the shape of his muscles, all the way to his bicep where his sleeve was folded. He moved his hand against my core again and muttered, “Pussy’s already making a mess, and I haven’t even fucking started.”

“Beau,” I whispered.

He said nothing, his eyes going back to my chest as he shifted his hand, fisting the fabric of my underwear before shredding it away from my body on a low grunt.

“I’m sorry.” My apology was barely a whisper, a confession meant only for his ears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Told you not to stay those words to me ever again,” he warned, his hand around my neck tightening.

“So this is it, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice trembling now. My mind didn’t know what to do. Give in or fight against him—against what was about to happen. My heart wanted to surrender, and my body just wanted him. Wetness pooled in my core as he stuffed the delicate, dark purple fabric in the front pocket of his Wranglers. “One more time?”

The next thing I knew, I was being bent over the table. I braced my hands on the old cedar, crying out in shock as he fisted my hair, yanking my head back. Then, he kicked my feet open, and I heard the sound of him undoing his belt. I couldn’t deny I wanted this. I did, but I couldn’t handle this as a goodbye. He found out the truth, and now, he was in danger—I put him in danger. Tears filled my eyes as he pushed my dress up, and I looked at the ceiling, bracing for him.

His hand smoothed over my ass before grabbing a greedy handful, a raw, deep sound coming for him. I’d never been wetter in my entire life, never wanted him more in my entire life.

“Say yes,” he ordered.

I dropped my head, wishing I was stronger. I wished I could resist him. I wished I could hate the monster he’d become. I wished I could find a way to save us, but this was our end.

When I didn’t answer, his rough, calloused hand moved to my hip again. A second later, I felt the tip of his thick cock at my entrance, and my knees nearly gave out.

“Give your cowboy consent, Wildflower.”

A single tear hit the wood as I whispered, “It will always be yes with you, Beau.”

“You better still be on fucking birth control,” he growled just before pushing inside me.

My back arched at the same time he yanked my head back, my mouth falling open as a desperate moan climbed up mythroat. Inch by damn inch, Beau Marks filled me for the first time in six long years, and it was almost too much. My walls stretched around him, and when I felt his balls against my clit, his unbuttoned jeans against my ass, he groaned my name. My pussy tightened in response to the hottest sound in the world: the sound of a cowboy about to come undone.

“Gonna milk me before I even get to fuck you properly, beautiful,” he muttered roughly, holding himself in place.

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