Page 71 of Beautifully Wounded

A ripple of arousal flutters through my core, and I keep pressing, circling, letting myself feel the pleasure that has been gone for so long.

I need more. I need more than my hands. I need someone else’s hands. Lips…

A moan escapes me, and my hand slaps over my mouth right as Ringo’s eyes snap open.

17

If she thinks I don’t know what she was doing, then she’s dead fucking wrong. There was no mistaking what that moan was, and the fact she’s hightailing to the bathroom just fucking confirms that my Angel was touching herself.

Sitting up, I palm my hard cock through my jeans, wondering if she saw it while I was napping.

I’d been dreaming, but man, it felt so fucking real.

We were on the bed, just the way we were when I must have fallen asleep, and she kept rubbing her thighs together, just the way she was beforehand as well.

It’s clear she’s horny. Aroused and aching, and my dream state took me there.

I’d asked her if I could touch her, and dream Abbey said yes. She’d spread her legs for me, an invitation to access her body, and I’d rolled over to situate myself between her legs, although suddenly,her clothes were gone, and her cream skin led a trail to the pink flesh between her thighs.

Fuuuuck the way dream Abbey looked down her body at me, biting her lip just like she does sometimes, her caramel gaze lust drunk, as she rolled her hips, trying to get her needy little bud closer to my lips.

Then, I blew hot air over it, and she moaned, but the moan was so loud, it woke me.

And here we fucking are. Me hard as fucking stone on the bed, with her, probably mashing away the ache in the bathroom.

Fuck.

Why do I want to go into that fucking bathroom so much?

If it were any other woman, I’d be kicking that fucking door down and claiming her sweet cunt in a heartbeat.

But Abbey isn’t any other woman. It’s clear her fear of the way she’s been feeling relates to whatever has happened in her past. The last thing she needs is a fucking brute biker mauling her.

Needing a fucking minute, I get up off the bed, shove my feet into my shit kickers, and head outside.

“You okay, man?” JD asks, offering me a dart, which I accept, lighting it up and savouring the first few drags. “Blondie keeping you busy?”

There’s amusement in JD’s tone, and I can’t help but smirk, even as I shrug.

“Just trying to keep up the ruse,” I say quietly, and he nods.

I haven’t seen much of my closest mate over the last few days, but that’s not unusual after what we did the other night.

Going in to kidnap Abbey—or rescue her, depending on how you look at it—would have really hit home for JD after what happened to his sister.

“Are you good?” I ask him, watching his expression as I take another deep drag of my cigarette before blowing the smoke off to the side.

He nods, not making eye contact. “Going into her house really kicked my arse.”

“Yeah, I figured. I’m sorr—”

JD holds his hand up, rounding on me and keeping his voice low. “No. We did a good thing. Don’t apologise for asking me to help you.”

Reaching out, I grip my best mate’s shoulder, and with the cigarette between two fingers on my other hand, I point at him. “You are a good fucking man, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel fucking bad for putting you in that situation.”

“I know.” JD nods, dropping his gaze to our feet, and I know he’s taking a fucking moment to compose himself. “What did you say to Brody that has him pissing his pants?”

When JD’s troubled gaze peers back up to mine, I can’t help but smirk.

---