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“Good to know we have all night,” he says.

He rocks against me, but I can tell he’s moving like he’s trying not to hurt me. It’s slow and gentle. Too slow. “Lawton?”

All I get is a groan into my neck in response.

“I need more,” I say, almost a whine.

“Okay.” Another curse. “I’ll give you whatever you need. Whatever you want, you can have it,” he groans, thrusting deeper into me. “It’s just me and you, here.”

No ropes, no toys necessary, just us.

He starts driving into me with a relentless rhythm, slamming the headboard against the wall. I like that he’s taking what he wants from me. Every pump makes me gasp, and I try to meet him thrust for thrust as I clench my legs around his waist. My core tightens as he works me right up to that exquisite edge. Again. How, I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting it to feel this good. My fingers curl against his back as I try to steady myself, but there’s no fighting the way my body arches for more of him.

“So fucking good. Why is it so fucking good?” he says, more to himself.

I try to tell him I know, but I can only manage a breathless gasp.

The tension builds and builds until it splinters apart, my body tingling and pulsing in places I didn’t know it could. I cry out his name from somewhere deep inside and he groans against my skin, shuddering with his release. The only thing left is this intense pleasure that makes my bones feel like a melted candle.

I moan. “That was…”

“Yeah,” he pants, nuzzling into my neck.

I mean to pat his scratchy cheek, but my fingers decide on a caress. “You have another round in you?”

He chuckles, and then presses a lingering, soft kiss to my forehead. “Just let me grab one of those habanero beef jerky sticks. If we’re going all night, I need some more fuel.”

When the afterglow sets in, he slides out of me slowly. Then, he grabs a towel and gently wipes away the mess he made of me. He handles me with such care that I almost open my mouth to tell him about the picture of Walker, but that would mean telling him the truth.

And I can’t hurt him like that. Not anymore.

48Lawton

I wake up dead.

Must be, because whatever is happening here feels like heaven. Actually, I don’t think heaven is this warm. Or this wet. Or has this much—fuck—suction.

I crack open my eyes to find Sabrina’s head bobbing over my cock. Holy… She licks up my shaft, and I let out a loud moan that rattles the barn window.

She smirks up at me but doesn’t stop. Her hair’s fallen forward so that it covers her face, and I grab a fistful and lift it up.

“So much better than being dead,” I groan, my head thumping back into the pillow.

She lifts her head, and I almost complain when my cock pops out of her mouth. “What?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Please, don’t stop.”

She squeezes me, and my thighs shake. “Just so we’re clear, that sounds an awful lot like begging to me, Montoya.”

She licks me again, keeping me on edge. That’s it. This woman can have whatever she wants. I’ll hand over my custom Damascus steel machete as long as she keeps doing that tongue-flick thing.

“That’s ’cause it is,” I say, holding up her hair. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want your lips on me.”

“That’s more like it.”

She sucks me into her mouth again, and I can feel her smile around my cock like she knows exactly how close I am to the edge, but she doesn’t slow down. She keeps bobbing, sucking, licking, and I really wish I had more self-control, so I could make this last, but I don’t.

I watch her, and she’s… fuck, she’s stunning. I have to physically remind myself to breathe. Naked Sabrina is on a whole new level. I study all the scars on her body, all the little white zigzags that tell the story of her life. She’s tougher than most men I know. I blow out a breath, trying to hide that I’m two seconds from losing all control.