CHAPTER 25 #3
Something inside me buckled. I hated when Grant called me his, flinched away from any trace of ownership from him, but the way Colt said it made me want to say yes to every dirty, possessive thing he demanded.
I felt it in the way my hips moved, in my hands clutching at his shoulders, in the need that made my body shake.
“Yes,” I whimpered. “I’m yours.”
He surged up and caught my mouth with his teeth on my lip, and I kissed him back with everything I had.
I ground down on him hard, and he met every movement with ruthless, perfect friction.
He slipped a hand between us, fingers finding the edge of my shorts, and shoved them to the side with a single motion.
His fingers skimmed gently over my clit before he buried two fingers inside me.
I moaned loudly as he moved them in and out of me, fucking me with his fingers as his thumb strummed over my clit.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered into my mouth, but then his lips fell away, trailing heat down my throat, jaw, and collarbone. He paused, watching goosebumps shimmer across my skin in the moonlight, and I could feel his smirk before he ran his tongue over my nipple.
His mouth was rough and greedy, sucking hard until I whimpered, then he licked the sting away slowly.
His thumb moved over my clit in tight circles, and I was shaking so badly.
He held me tighter, one huge hand splayed across my back, and the other was buried between my thighs, refusing to let me retreat.
My muscles tensed, straining for more, as my hands dug into his hair, yanking hard enough to make him hiss. I kissed him again, desperate for release and him, and I clamped my eyes closed as I pulled away panting.
“Eyes on me.” His rough words hit me, and I blinked my eyes open to meet his stare.
His eyes were dark with hunger, but there was something else, something like awe as he watched me. I hated how much that mattered, how the thought of him being so enamored with me made my chest ache even worse than the need between my legs.
I kept my gaze locked on his, even as my orgasm built, even as my hands shook as I traced them down his neck. Every time I tried to look away, he tightened his grip, said my name in a low warning, and pulled me back into focus.
“That’s it, Blaire,” he murmured, and I could hear how close he was to losing control.
It was the most intimate thing I’d ever done, letting him see me like this, completely unguarded. I’d spent so many years pretending, performing for men who wanted a softer, sweeter version of me, but Colt didn’t want that version.
He wanted me.
He wanted the messiest, most desperate, truest version of me—the Blaire who was too much, who never tempered herself, who wanted things louder and rougher and all-consuming. That fact alone thundered through me, breaking open something that Grant had tried to wall away for years.
Colt’s want was a holy thing.
The proof was in the way his eyes never left me, in the way he was clearly, unashamedly fighting not to come just from the sight of me riding his hand.
The proof was in the way he said my name, not as a question but a fucking invocation, like it was something to worship.
I’d spent so long trying to make myself small, and now I was too big to be contained.
I wanted to take up every fucking inch of him, and something hot and aching settled in my chest.
He pressed his thumb harder, and I broke. I moaned loudly, my thighs clamping around his hand, my nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, just fucked me through it, watching every second of my unraveling like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted.
I was shaking and boneless as Colt pulled his mouth away from mine, and in one seamless motion, he stood and took me with him. The muscles in his arms flexed as he lifted me against him, and my thighs slid open to accommodate his hips. The rough drag of his jeans against my bare skin made me gasp.
He set me down on unsteady legs, and I stumbled before I clung to his chest. He pressed his mouth to my temple, my hairline, the corner of my jaw. His hands found their way to the small of my back, then up, splaying over my ribs as he bent to murmur in my ear, “You’re incredible, you know that?”
He backed me up with slow, deliberate steps until my thighs hit the porch railing and the wood dug into my ass.
The porch was open to the night and the stars, but nothing about the exposure made me shy.
He spun me, and I had to grab onto the railing to keep from falling forward.
My pulse kicked up, and I was painfully aware of the way my body arched back into him as his fingers ran down the length of my spine.
I felt his cock straining through his jeans as he ground himself against me, like he couldn’t stand to wait another second.
His mouth found the side of my neck, tongue and teeth alternating nips and kisses as he bent me forward, lining my stomach flush with the porch rail.
I heard the metallic clink of his belt, the quick rasp of a zipper, and then his hands were yanking the waistband of my shorts and underwear down in one impatient move.
The fabric dropped to my ankles, and the immediate shock of the air on my skin made me moan.
I glanced over my shoulder, just to see his face, and the sight nearly undid me.
His hair was wild from where I’d tugged it, lips swollen and red.
He held his cock in one hand, stroking himself slowly, watching as I took him in.
“So fucking perfect,” he said, voice so low I barely recognized it. “Perfect for me, perfect for my cock.”
He lined himself up behind me, and I felt the hot, blunt head of him drag through my pussy, teasing and slicking himself in my wetness.
“Wait,” I breathed, barely getting the word out. “Do you want to use a condom? I’m on birth control, and I got tested right after I found out Grant was cheating on me.”
He looked up at me, his eyes staring into mine. “It’s been a long time for me, Blaire. I’m clean. I want to feel you without anything between us.”
I could hardly breathe as I nodded my head.
He pressed the tip in, then drew back, letting me feel the stretch and the ache. Every nerve ending in my body was awake and desperate for more.
He gripped my hips with both hands, thumbs digging into the soft flesh, and slammed forward until he was flush with me. I whimpered, the sensation overwhelming, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I pushed back against him, arching even harder.
“Fuck,” he rasped as he leaned over me, his chest flush with my back. “You were made for me.” One hand slipped up to curl around my throat, and the combination of pleasure and pressure sent me reeling.
I knew, in some distant rational part of my mind, that this was the worst idea I’d ever had.
I knew I would pay for it tomorrow, and maybe every day after.
It was impossible for this not to mean everything.
But in this moment, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be careful or quiet or good. I wanted him.
Colt set a relentless pace, never slowing or softening, even as his hand on my hip slid around me to find my sensitive clit. “Give me another, Blaire.” His words burned against me. “I can feel how needy you are.”
With every word, every movement, he branded it into me, and I could feel the truth of it hollowing me out.
“Feel how good I’m fucking you,” he snarled as he slammed in harder, and I cried out when he hit a spot inside me that stole my breath. I felt him everywhere at once. He was so big it was impossible to think about anything but the way he filled me.
“Can you feel how fucking casual this is, Blaire?” he taunted, voice thick with something dangerous, and I whimpered.
It should have felt cheap, the way he said it, but there was nothing casual about the way his body worshiped mine, the way he refused to let me pretend I wasn’t falling apart for him.
“Colt—” I choked out and he slammed forward again, demanding everything I had left as his rough fingers pressed hard against my clit and I shattered. “Oh my god.”
“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.” He didn’t let up as I fell apart, his hands unyielding as he fucked me.
I clamped down around him as my orgasm crashed over me harder than the last. His hands tightened, nearly bruising as he surged forward, burying himself so deep I thought I’d split open. My name tore from his lips and I felt him shudder, felt every pulse of his release as he came inside me.
He said my name again, softer this time, almost pleading, and I collapsed against the porch railing. My body was too wrung out to do anything but take whatever he gave me.
He didn’t let go. He wrapped one arm across my front, gathering me to his chest as if he thought I might disappear if he loosened his grip. He leaned his forehead into the curve of my spine, breathing me in, and we were so tangled there was no telling where he ended and I began.
The night was warm and bright and indifferent to what we’d done, but I could feel it everywhere.
I could still feel the ache of him inside me.
My heart slammed in my chest, and my hands were numb where I gripped the rail.
I blinked hard, trying to drag myself back into my own body, trying to get Colt out of my head.
But he pressed a kiss to the ridge of my shoulder, then another at the nape of my neck.
His hands moved, steadying me as they smoothed over my sides before one hand pressed against the softness of my belly, fingers splayed wide.
We were both breathing hard, his chest rising and falling against my back, and the raw sound of it was almost more intimate than the sex itself.
When he finally drew back, he moved so carefully before he lifted me and cradled me in his arms. I clung to his shirt as I laughed.
“I can walk,” I lied, and I knew he could feel the aftershocks still rippling through my thighs beneath his palms.
“You could, but I’m not going to let you.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my mouth one last time. “This is how us cowboys do casual.”
I snorted, completely naked in his arms, and ran my thumb over his mustache. “Okay, cowboy.”