Chapter 16 Stella
Stella
My head is buzzing pleasantly as Colt and I climb the stairs back to the main level of the house. We wander around the house until we find his friends on the back deck.
Drew and Beau are playing a heated game of beer pong with a couple of guys I don’t recognize. Booker is sitting on one of the porch chairs, a pretty, dark-haired girl on his lap, kissing him senselessly.
I trip over the step out the back door, giggling as Colt catches me.
“Easy, there, hotshot,” he says, gripping my arm.
“Sorry,” I giggle again. “It’s been a while since I’ve had this much to drink.”
“Sweetheart, you only had, like, five seltzers. There’s no way you’re drunk after that.”
“I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in nearly six months. My tolerance is stunted. But, no, I’m not drunk. Just buzzed.”
“Hey, guys!” Drew says, slightly slurring.
“Having fun, Stella?” Beau asks as he sinks a ball in a cup across the table.
“Oh, yeah,” I drawl, “a blast.” I can see him smirk at the slip of my southern accent, but I don’t particularly care.
“Are you ready to leave?” Colt asks, whispering in my ear.
“Are we done dancing?” I ask, spinning to face him and wrapping my arms around his neck again.
“Yeah, Stell, I think we’re done dancing. You aren’t even standing on your own,” he replies with a cocky half-smile, raising his eyebrows in challenge.
“Maybe I just like it when you hold me,” I argue with a devious grin.
He pulls me in tighter to his large body, wrapping his arms securely around my waist. “All you have to do is ask,” he says as he brushes a soft kiss to my lips.
It’s the first kiss he’s given me all night, and I can’t say I haven’t been waiting for it. The anticipation has been driving me insane.
I latch onto his lips, kissing him like I’m dying of thirst and he’s my oasis. It feels good to be able to let go. Now that we’ve cleared the air between us and are going to give this whole dating thing a chance, I feel light, free.
I melt into him, letting him support my body weight. My fingers find their way into the soft hair at the base of his neck, and I smile into his lips.
Colt takes a couple of steps backward so that he’s leaning against the wall by the door we just walked through. I guess he doesn’t care to let his friends see us kiss, since he hasn’t tried to pull away.
Though he keeps his hands firmly on my hips, not going any lower, I can feel the hard length of his cock pressing into my stomach.
“We should go back to your place,” I whisper against his mouth.
He groans as he pulls his face away from mine as if it physically pained him to do so. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but despite how good you look in that dress, I’m not going to have sex with you tonight, sweetheart.”
“I’m not drunk, Colt. I want you to fuck me,” I whisper. I would get on my knees and beg if I thought it would get him to change his mind.
“The only offer on the table tonight is a long make-out sesh and some ibuprofen. Take it or leave it.”
“Buzz kill,” I mumble, leaning back in to reignite the kiss. I’m not really upset. In fact, the opposite is true. I admire him for wanting to protect me, even from myself. And, although I’m really not drunk, I understand why he’s doing this.
He kisses me lazily against the wall until Beau announces that their beer pong game has ended. With the hockey game they’re all to play tomorrow, we decide to call it a night.
Colt tosses me an extra-large t-shirt. “You can change in the bathroom, if you want. The toothbrush you used last time is still in the drawer.”
“You kept my toothbrush even though I rejected you?” I ask, a small grin playing on my lips.
He shrugs with a knowing smirk. “What can I say? I had a feeling you’d come around.” He stands in the middle of the room, waiting for me to decide where I’m going to change.
He’s being chivalrous, and the sentiment is both charming and annoying. I want him to touch me, to admire me. I’m not drunk, but no matter how many times I insist on that fact, he remains firm in his refusal to do more than kiss me.
After dropping Booker and Drew off at home, Colt came straight here. He didn’t ask if I wanted to go back to my dorm. The answer would’ve been no, and he’s all too aware of that.
I lock eyes with him. His are bright, playful, and I decide to up my game of seduction to the next level.
I slowly let my jacket fall from my shoulders to the floor. When he realizes what I’m doing, his jaw tenses and his eyebrows raise, both in surprise and desire.
Next, I reach up and let my hair down from its clip, running it through with my fingers. I take a few steps toward him until we’re only inches apart. When I reach back for the zipper of my dress, he finally finds his voice.
“Stella…” he groans, barely a whisper. “You don’t have to. You shouldn’t.”
“I want to. I’m not drunk. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, that you’re trying to be good. But unless you tell me that you don’t want to have sex with me right now, then I’m not going to stop.”
“Of course I want to. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about all night.” His eyes roam over my face, checking for signs of hesitation where he’ll find none.
With that admission, I reach back and unzip the silver dress, letting it fall to pool around my ankles. Standing before him in nothing but knee-high boots and a black thong, I’ve never felt more wanted.
His gaze is devouring, perusing, not skimping over a single detail while he looks at every single part of my body.
Finally, he looks back at my face, where the sweat from dancing and kissing him has all but removed my makeup.
“Keep the boots on.” With those final words, he grabs me by the hips and pulls my naked body against his fully clothed one.
Ravenous. It’s the only word to describe how he kisses me, as if he didn’t spend all evening doing just that. His rough hands roam over my body as I push his shirt up his chest, needing to feel his skin.
“God, Stella, I’m obsessed with you,” he says as he pulls his black t-shirt over his head.
I run my nails over the planes of his stomach, taking in every muscular line.
I lean forward and plant a kiss on his peck, then another on the other side.
I don’t know if it’s the lingering effects of my buzz, or the confidence given to me by these damn leather boots, or just the fact that this man makes me crazy, but I toss any restraint I had been holding onto out the window.
I trail my tongue down the center line of his abs, kneeling as I get lower. When I reach for his belt, he grabs both sides of my face and forces me to look at him.
His eyes are desperate, but he’s stopping me because he’s trying to be chivalrous again. I continue to undo his belt and then the button on his jeans, all without breaking eye contact.
“Stop being good, Colt.” I tug the zipper down and reach my hand into his pants, palming his erection over his boxers. “Stop being nice.” When I pull his clothes down low enough to let his cock free, he groans.
I finally break eye contact long enough to wrap my hand around the base of him and lick the underside of his dick from root to tip. “Just let go,” I command, sucking him into my mouth as far as I can.
He throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, and I can feel the change instantly.
Every muscle in his body relaxes as he gives in to his most basic urges.
When he looks back down at me, his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire.
He moves his hands up into my hair and wraps the strands around his fingers in a death grip.
“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”