Page 125 of Stolen By the Billionaire
His hips rocked against her, the roughness of him against that bright spot between her legs, and the ache subsided.
The waves of pleasure he forced into her drove up her body, and she grasped his shoulders, her body gripping him inside, her mind shattered and wild with need. His body hardened in her arms and legs, and his hips pressed harder. The spiraling, suffocating clench imploded to a moment of rush, and throbs of pleasure washed over her, drowning her, destroying every last shred of her into a mindless, gasping wretch as she clung to him, wanting to never let him or that moment leave.
The swells passed over her, gentled, and she drifted down and settled with arms wrapped around Blaze, his breath harsh on her neck and his arms locked around her head, holding her against his shoulder.
He was whispering into her hair, “Be all right. You’ll be all right, Sarah. You’ll be all right.”
Yes, she was all right. Her body was her own to give to Blaze and live in as she wanted to, not a commodity to be saved for someone else.
“I’m okay,” she croaked, her throat dry.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered, pushing himself up on his elbows and brushing her hair away from where the long strands were tangled on her nose and eyelashes. “You’re amazing, kitten.
“So are you?” she ventured, trying to say something back to him.
He chuffed a chuckle. “I’m going to move now, okay?”
“Yeah.”
He reached between them and rolled off her, his withdrawal scraping the rawness inside.
“Shhh,” he hushed her as soon as he turned back, and he gathered her into his arms. “It’ll stop soon. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I wanted it. I wanted you.”
He looked down at her, and their eyes caught. “I wanted you, too, from the first time I watched you from your cornfield. I watched you, and I wanted you.”
A little creepy, a little flattering, a little of the bond she’d wanted, too. “You wanted—this?”
“This and more,” he whispered. “Much more, kitten.”
Sarah didn’t have enough brain juice left to think about more or much more, so she settled down in the crook of his arm and snuggled up to the warmth of his naked body.
With her fingertips, she traced the hard ripples of his abs, exploring how the heavy muscle wrapped him under his skin and the tattoos stained the surface.
Up close, with her chin resting on the thick muscle of his pectoral, the lines were jointed, separate, and bulbed at each end, almost like the bones of bat wings.
“Shit,” Blaze muttered, his voice no longer soft and conspiratorial.
Of course, he regretted doing that with her. Sarah was a nothing farm girl from Nowhere, Iowa, not someone worth anything.
She looked up at him.
Blaze was staring at the ceiling, and he sighed. “Logan is going to kill me.”
32
Impossibly Perfect
Sarah
The next morning, Sarah tried to steal out of bed to shower and brush her teeth before Blaze woke up.
Maybe Sarah could find some makeup to slather on to make herself look presentable, more like what a woman was supposed to look like. No matter when Sarah came downstairs in the morning, her mother had always been waiting for her with her lipstick and earrings on. She’d prided herself on it.
Blaze would think Sarah was a frizzy slob, and then—
Yeah, and then. A guy like Blaze would want a presentable woman who respected others enough to make an effort, to not let herself go, to not be seen when she was a frizzy slob.
