Page 19 of Breaking Him

He’d said that to me before, and it killed me he thought I felt that way. “I don’t pity you. I feel…” I released a shaky breath, trying to release some of the anger suddenly surging through me. “I feel fucking furious that you had to go through that, that half this shitty town knew and did nothing.”

His hand stilled on my hip, and his fingers flexed, pressing into my skin, something new and beautiful transforming his rugged face. “I’m okay, darlin’,” he said roughly.

In some ways, yes, he was more than okay. But my belly had barely rumbled, and he’d bolted out of bed to get me food, like the sheets were on fire. He would’ve been very young when he became aware of the abuse in his home. His mother must have suffered at the hands of his bastard father for a lot of years before Eli was old enough to do something about it. I got the feeling that’s where this need to take care of me came from. Did he believe he’d failed her in some way?

“Is it true? Did you kill him?” I could barely believe I’d said it out loud, but I realized as soon as I did that the answer didn’t matter to me. It never had.

His eyes lifted to mine, held, and I could see him physically brace himself. “Yes.”

“Good,” I rasped.

His entire body quaked. “Good?”

“You had to protect yourself and your mom. No one else was doing it. You did the only thing you could.”

“Christ, darlin’.” He dropped his head to my lap, wrapping his arms around my legs, and I ran my fingers through his rumpled hair. We didn’t talk anymore about that. We didn’t need to. It changed nothing, not for me.

Instead we talked about the ranch, plans to get things back on track, what I’d make for dinner that night. If he wanted to share more with me, I’d be here, but I wasn’t going to push.

I still had half a piece of toast left, but I’d had enough. “I’m full,” I said, and he lifted his head.

I held it to his lips. He obviously believed me, because he bit it in half. I handed him my tea and watched him finish it off. Even the way he ate was appealing, the way the muscles in his jaw jumped when he chewed. Damn, it was sexy.

He finished the drink, then handed the cup to me to put on the side table. He shifted closer then, leaning over me, taking me to my back, one hand on the mattress at my side, the other lifting to my jaw. He touched me with such tenderness my heart squeezed. Those fingers skimmed my throat, my breasts. He cupped one, holding it in a grip that could only be described as possessive, and squeezed, swiping his thumb over the hard peak until I was panting. He kept going, trailing the coarse, callused tips of his fingers over my quivering belly. The expression on his face, the way he touched me, it was like I was uncharted territory and he was discovering every dip, curve, and valley for the first time.

“I like knowing you’re full. It makes me feel”—he looked like he was struggling to find the right words—“full as well, but in a different way. It’s hard to explain.” He slid farther down my body and gripped my thighs, spreading them, exposing my bare sex to his hungry gaze.

I whimpered, his words swirling through my head mixed with the way he was affecting my body. I didn’t know which way was up. Just his eyes on me, his voice sliding over me, had me squirming.

He moved between my legs and dropped lower. “Only thing I’m hungry for is you.” Nuzzling my inner thigh, he spread me open with his fingers, and I watched him suck in a sharp breath, his eyes glazing over. “You like the way my hands feel on you?” His voice had gotten rougher.

He slid his fingers through my drenched slit, and I arched against the mattress. “Yes.”

“I like having you all over me. The way you smell. The way you taste.” He groaned, nose gliding higher up my thigh. “Ah, you’re soaking, Abi. So wet. I do that to you, don’t I, sweetheart? You get this way because of the way I touch you?”

I was trembling, thigh muscles twitching. “Yes.” I reached down and threaded my fingers in his sleep-rumpled hair. “Please, Eli. I need your mouth on me.”

He growled, wrapped his hands around my thighs, and buried his face between my legs. His deep moan as he dragged his nose through my slick lips, covering himself in me, had me trying to grind against him. I didn’t get very far, though; those strong hands held me immobile, held me tight against his mouth. And dear God, the sounds he made, the pleasure he was taking from going down on me, was one of the hottest things I’d ever experienced.

He lapped and sucked, growling as he worked me. It was so damn good. My moans were constant now, filling the room. I learned last night, the last few days, the man knew how to make me come, which meant he was purposely holding off. “Please, Eli,” I begged, and tightened my grip on his hair. “Let me come, baby. Please let me come.”

He pulled back, and I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. The man loved it when he made me beg. He lifted his mouth away, and I cried out, ready to beg all over again, but then he replaced his lips and tongue with his fingers. His head dropped to my inner thigh, getting a close-up view of my quivering sex. I loved watching him like this. He circled my clit like I’d shown him, making me writhe and buck. “More?” he asked, warm breath tickling my damp skin.

I bucked. “More.”

He continued to circle my clit, then dipped down, spreading more of my arousal, then up again. Rubbing back and forth over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He leaned in and lapped at my opening, again and again—then he pushed his tongue inside me and I shattered. Crying out, body shaking. And somehow through my haze, I heard Eli’s groan of approval.

I was still spasming when his tongue slid over my sensitive flesh, lapping up my come. His hands gripped my butt, and he spread my cheeks, swiping down the crease, getting every drop. I shuddered and spread my legs wider for him. He paused, just for a second, then he was at my ass. He circled my puckered hole with his tongue, up and back, groaning the whole time.

Nerves kicked up in my belly, blended with excitement. How the hell could I still want more after the orgasm he’d just given me? But that’s what Eli did to me.

God, it was so good, all of it. Everything he did to me made me wet and achy.

He licked and sucked me, played with me until I was swollen and aching and wet again. I was getting restless, desperate. I needed him inside me, and he obviously felt the same way, because he rose up, and after wiping his face on the sheet, positioned himself over me.

His cock jutted from his huge, muscled body, long and so damn hard. Thick veins bulged along the length, and the tip was dark. Jesus, I wanted him. I spread my legs wider, inviting him to take me. My skin was burning up, slick, and I was close to undulating on the bed. I was that desperate for him.

His expression was all heat…fierce. “I need inside you again, Abigail,” he said. “Will you let me fuck you, sweetheart?” Despite the possessiveness in his eyes, the way he touched me, there were still these traces of uncertainty. He was still questioning what was happening between us. How much I wanted him.