He slid a hand up my shirt, palming my breast—bruising.
I arched on the rough, wooden pole as he pushed deeper but not deep enough. Not nearly.
“Where you saved me all those years ago, now you’re going to give me everything. No more barriers, no layers between us, nothing hiding that I’m yours and you’re mine.”
Theo lifted his head enough to find my eyes. The ocean breeze blew soft chocolate strands around his face, softening the hard lines.
“You might be the artist, but you’re my masterpiece,” he said. “All my life I’ve been painting you on a canvas, and now I’m going to unravel you thread by thread.”
He captured my lips at the same moment he speared me on his cock.
The world disappeared into Theo.
The water nipped at our toes, my head on Theo’s bare chest. I dripped down my thighs, dripped him.
“I need to clean up,” I murmured into his hot skin.
In response, Theo cupped me. He stared up at the wood pier, the stars peeking through, lazily spreading his come all over my lips. One finger, then two, slid back inside, pressing it back inside me. The movement was enough to get me hot and prickly.
“I like feeling me on you,” he said casually, still staring up at the slatted sky.
I couldn’t breathe.
His free hand came to my chin, gently tipping it up, until my eyes met his. His head was tilted slightly, eyes narrow, drinking me in as he pressed in and out, in and out, a delirious rhythm. He watched me like he had the first night, only now I was wet with him. Marked—covered—in Theo.
I was still sore from Theo, but his fingers transmuted the pain into a delicious need. Soon I was working myself against his fingers. Theo using his come as lube was boiling my blood.
“I like feeling you in me,” I admitted, breathless.
His grip on my chin tightened, eyes blazing. He flipped me on my side, hot skin flush against mine. His thick, muscled arms wrapped around me, holding me close, his lips on the back of my neck, my ear, my shoulder.
I felt him at my entrance and I pushed back.
“Please,” I managed to whimper.
“Sweet girl.” He groaned my special term of endearment, sliding inside me.
Thirty-Nine
ABIGAIL
Theo wiped a bit of sauce from my lips, licking it from his thumb.
“What?” I asked. He watched me, looking too damn smug. After Theo made true on his promises, we’d dressed and were now getting burgers.
Theo insisted I needed to be fed.
“Just picturing your lips dripping with something else.” I looked away from his green eyes, which seemed to glow in the night. “Is Abigail Crowne blushing?” he asked, sounding like a startled Southern belle.
I glared, taking a bite of my burger.
I was hungry after the pier. Theo was… insatiable.
Theo hadn’t stopped touching me. When we walked here, his arm was around me. Now he kept one hand on my shoulder, his other between my thighs. It was intoxicating, distracting, marvelous. I still wore his hoodie, and it was soft and smelled like him. I kept lifting the fabric to my nose, inhaling the musky, spicy scent.
“Not Crowne,” I said, dropping the sleeve after Theo gave me a knowing look. “Not anymore. Hound… maybe…” I chewed my lip, nervous at suggesting I take his last name.
When I looked up, a need blazed in his eyes that nearly floored me. Then a slow, intoxicating smile curved his pink lips and broke his cheeks, white teeth and all.