Little Lamb

40 ❦ love me

༺❦༻

This is what I ached for, his love, his attention, his body on mine. The way he finally gave in,
the way he wanted me just as much as I wanted him. It was everything I'd dreamed of, everything I craved. And now I had to leave it all behind.

The thought ripped through me, breaking me in ways I couldn't put into words.
I wanted him so much it hurt, so much it made me cry.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I lay there beneath him, my body wrecked, my heart in pieces. The lump in my throat was unbearable, the ache in my chest suffocating. I wanted to sob, to let it all out, but I didn't. I couldn't.

Riggs was still on top of me, his body warm and solid. He noticed the tears, his brows pulling together in confusion before his hand came up to brush them away with his thumb. His touch was gentle, but he didn't ask why I was crying.

He probably thought I was just overwhelmed, wrecked in every sense of the word after the way he'd ruined me completely.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, his lips lingering for a moment longer than I expected. Then, with a low grunt, he shifted, slowly easing himself off of me.

The air felt cooler without his weight, and I stayed still for a moment, catching my breath, letting my body recover. My legs felt weak, my skin flushed and damp, my mind still spinning.

Eventually, I sat up, biting my lip as I glanced at him. Riggs stood at the edge of the cot, his body gleaming with sweat and... me. Oh my god. My release was all over him, slicking his chest, dripping down his abs. My face burned as I looked away quickly, mortified.

I'd never done that before. Never.

The embarrassment curled in my stomach, mixing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. I shifted, reaching for an old shirt on the side of the cot, one I had worn a hundred times before. My fingers closed around it, hesitant as I glanced back at him.

"Here," I murmured, holding the shirt out to him. "You can, uh... clean up."

He didn't take it.

When I looked up, his eyes were on me, dark, blown wide, and unwavering. His pupils were so dilated that the blue and brown in his irises were barely visible, swallowed up by black. He looked... like he was holding himself back from devouring me all over again.

"Don't." he replied.

My brows furrowed. "But—"

"No," he cut me off. "Don't wipe it off."

I swallowed hard, my hand lowering, the shirt slipping from my grip. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as his gaze dragged over me.

"Why?" I asked, my voice quieter.

"Because I love it. You all over me."

My breath hitched.

"You know what that does to me, don't you? Seeing you like this? Feeling you all over me?" His voice dropped lower.
"It's perfect."

I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond to the way he was looking at me like I was something sacred, something he couldn't get enough of.

"You're staring," I whispered.

His lips quirked into a small, crooked smile.
"I can't stop."

Morning light spilled into the tent, accompanied by the soft chirping of birds outside. I rubbed my eyes, my body slowly waking.

For a moment I felt happy. My limbs were still sore, especially between my legs.
Riggs hadn't stayed, he'd left sometime
yesterday. I wished he'd stayed, wished he'd slept here, next to me. Just this once.