His lips follow the trail of goosebumps his hands leave as he brushes them down my thighs. He plants a deep but gentle kiss on the dark purple bruise along my calf where it must have hit a rock when I fell, and the tenderness behind his touch makes tears sting my eyes.
“You’re one of the strongest people I know.” He moves to a cut on my opposite knee. “Someone who has chosen to fight over and over again. Even on days it felt like it wasn’t worth it.”
A single tear slips out, and I try to brush it away before he notices. But he does, and because he’s Beau—my sweet, kind, loving Beau—he doesn’t seem to care.
“So damn strong, Abigail.”
My hands wind through his hair as he presses a kiss over my pussy, and I tip my head back on a moan.
“Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels good, Beau. Don’t stop.”
“I could never,” he says before kissing me there again. “There is no force strong enough to make me stop.”
Then, he presses the pad of his thumb against my clit, and I fist the strands of his hair. The hiss that slips past his lips only intensifies the wave of pleasure.
“So wet for me.” Beau swings one leg over his shoulder before doing the same with my left. Grabbing onto my ass, he pulls me as close to him as he can without me falling off the desk. The move is possessive and so goddamn hot.
My skin feels like it’s on fire as my thighs tighten in anticipation around his head. “That’s right, Darlin’. Show me right where you want me.”
“Baby,”I whine as his tongue flicks my clit.
He sinks one finger inside me. “Again.”
“Baby.Please.”
“My girl.”
The term of endearment washes over me as he adds another finger, and the tempo of his pumps picks up in speed. His tongue finds my clit once more, and the combined stimulation sends a rush of heat to my pussy.
It only takes another minute before the sounds of my release echo through the empty loft, and Beau doesn’t stop pumping or licking until I fall back against the desk and my body goes limp.
I barely have time to come down from my high when Beau removes my legs from his shoulders and stands in front of me. Regardless of the fact that I just came, a wanton moan spills from my lips as I watch him lower his jeans just enough to free his throbbing cock.
Wrapping my legs around him, my eyes are glued to him as he reaches between us and wraps a hand around his dick before lining himself up at my entrance.
“I love you,” he says breathlessly as he pushes just the head inside of me.
“I—oh fuck,”I gasp as he thrusts in deeper. “I love you, Baby. I love you. I loveyou.” Three words have never felt so right. I’ve never felt love like this. And as I look up at him—as I feel him sink deeper and deeper—Iknowthat my heart was meant to find his.
A shiver runs through Beau’s body as he bottoms out inside of me. My hands wrap around his straining forearms as he wraps his hands around my waist. “I want to feel you come while I’m inside of you. I want to feel it when my girl screams my name,” he commands, his chest heaving with every breath.
He pulls out slowly, and when he thrusts forward again, my lips part on a moan. I lose count of how many times he slams into me, but he does it with enough force that the sound of Lincoln’s desk sliding across the room rings in my ear. However, it’s not enough to drown out Beau, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
I don’t fall over, though. No. I hold on as long as I can, savoring the way the man above me murmurs words of praise, all while bending over and peppering every inch of my body he can reach in gentle kisses.
A stark contrast to the way he continues to fuck me.
But my fight doesn’t last long. Because all it takes is for him to rub one small circle against my clit and I shatter beneath him, doing exactly as he asked. I call out his name as my pussy tightens around him. And with two more deep thrusts, he comes deep inside of me, reminding us both that, regardless of how hard we’ve had to fight to get here—We. Are. Here.
Loving one another.
The way it was always supposed to be.
When Beau carries me back to the house, dressed in nothing but his long sleeve—the rest of my clothes forgotten on the office floor, along with the contents of Lincoln’s desk—I don’t miss the way the other three look at me from their spots in the living room.
Lawson’s the first to see me.
