Page 89 of One Last Rodeo

“Do it again,” she whispers. “And do it with your cock inside me next time.”

“Stop asking me to hurt you like this!”

Her jaw tightens. “This is goodbye. We would have never lasted anyway.”

“No,” I say immediately. “It’s not.”

She turns her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder, eyes like steel now. “Yes, it is. Now fuck me, Jensen—” Her voice drops— “And make it hurt.”

That has me doing something I know that I shouldn’t do. Because the thought of Catalina with another man after I’ve had her is the only thing that could cause me to throw my morals, manners, and good judgment straight out the window. She wants it to hurt, well, she’s hurting me.

I kick her legs wider with my feet, giving myself some space, and grip her hips to pull her up to me.

“This is what you want?” I growl in her ear, brushing the soft, dark brown curls off her neck so I can sink my teeth there beforesucking on the warm skin. “You want the physical pain to match your emotional pain?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Fine.”

I unzip my denim jeans and pull out my cock. I’m already hard. I drag the tip through her pussy, wetting it with her arousal.

“But make no mistake. This isn’t over,” I say right before thrusting deep inside her.

There’s no barrier, no foreplay, and zero hesitation. I’m not thinking straight anymore, and I’m convinced neither is she.

Chapter 27 – Catalina

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that last part to Jensen.

But judging by the way his body has gone rigid behind me, the way his breath is punching out of his chest like I shook something feral loose, my words definitely lit a fire in him.

I bite down hard on my bottom lip, refusing to make a sound as he enters me in one thick, punishing thrust. The stretch is rough and slow and burning and so fucking good it knocks the air out of me. He grunts from behind me and when I glance up, I catch his gaze locked on my ass in the mirror—tracking every inch of my body instead of my face.

Of course, that’s where he’s looking.

I don’t know what I expected. Maybe some groveling. Tears. Some grand speech about how sorry he is for not shutting that shit down with Davis and how much I mean to him.

He already apologized. I heard him. I did. But this—this hit too deep. Even if he doesn't realize it. Even if I realize it’s not entirely his fault that I’m ending things with us.

Maybe I’m punishing him. Maybe I’m acting immaturely. I know the truth. I’m doing this to punish myself. Because after Davis hurt me, I swore I wouldn’t fall for another man who didn’t believe in me without question. I promised I wouldn’t hand my heart to someone who needed reassurance that I was smart enough. Pretty enough. Good enough to be with them.

And yet here I am... feet spread wide, bent over a bathroom counter, having met his grandma under the pretense that I had nothing better to do with a few days off, letting Jensen Grant fill me with his cock like he owns me.

He lifts his gaze to the mirror and catches my eyes. For half a second, I see the confusion and pain that's behind them, and for a moment I feel guilt. Then I shove the feeling down where it belongs.

I’m done wasting my emotional capacity on men who don’t fully choose me. I know I’m confusing him. I know this looks messy. A week tangled together in Tennessee sheets, laughing and fucking and pretending this could be casual, and now I’m asking him to fuck me roughly so I can feel some pain to match my hurt.

I was never going to go on the double-date with June tonight. A week ago, she’d made me swipe right on a few guys because tonight’s our only night in San Jose. She was already meeting someone and turned it into a whole double-date situation that she was excited about. I was not. That had been before Tennessee and Jensen.

I’d planned on telling her about Jensen privately this evening but had gotten caught up in reviewing Olivia’s case notes andsurgery preparation as soon as I left the hospital. And then, after the rodeo… well… Davis happened.

I don’t want to go on this date. I never wanted to go. I already know I’ll hate it. Yet there’s a part of me that thinks I should go anyway just to prove a point to myself. The point being that what Jensen and I had was always meaningless.

I bend further forward at the waist, deliberately changing the angle, giving him more. Jensen’s hands grab my hips, fingers digging in as he pulls almost all the way out just to slam back into me again. It’s so deep; I can practically feel him in my throat.

It feels good. It always does with him. And if I let my mind go there even for a second, I’ll remember that it’sonlyever felt like this with him. I'veonlyever felt this sexually free and satisfied when he’s inside me.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “You feel so good. So perfect, Kitty.”