CHAPTER 28
BLAIRE
H is fingers dug into the nape of my neck as he shoved the bathroom door open and hauled me inside. The door slammed shut, cutting off the bar noise and leaving only my thundering pulse in my ears and the rasp of his breathing.
He clicked the lock before his gaze turned back to me, and I stumbled backward.
“Colt, you’re insane. We can’t—” My ass hit the counter, and I grabbed the edge with both hands as he stalked toward me.
He caught my jaw, his callused thumb dragging across my bottom lip hard enough to make me whimper.
“The hell we can’t.” His voice lacked his normal control as his grip slid down my throat while his other hand clamped around my hip.
His fingers blazed a path from my neck to my collarbone before hooking beneath the thin strap of my dress.
He yanked it down my arm until my bare breast was exposed to the cool air. The groan that tore from his throat was almost unrecognizable as he cupped my breast in his rough palm, fingers digging into soft flesh.
I shuddered when his other hand gripped my waist, fingers twisting into the delicate fabric of my dress.
The satin bunched between his knuckles, the hem climbing my thighs as his head dipped low.
His breath was a hot caress against my exposed skin before his mouth found me.
His tongue circled my nipple before drawing it between his teeth with devastating precision.
“Oh God.” My head fell back as his mouth drew a long, desperate moan from my lips. Each flick of his tongue, every greedy tug of his lips, was stoking a fire in my belly until the wetness between my thighs became a slick, unignorable ache.
Colt lifted his head, breathing harshly through his nose, and he spun me around with a force that had me gasping. My palms slapped the counter, and I steadied myself, catching my own startled expression in the mirror.
And behind me, Colt looked like some kind of fucking god.
His hands closed over my hips, so damn big they nearly spanned my waist, and he held me flush to the counter until I could feel every hard ridge of him against my ass.
“Look at you,” he ground out as his gaze traveled down my back.
His eyes met mine in the mirror, pupils blown wide with hunger. “Look at us.”
I stared into the mirror, breath catching as his thumb traced slow circles on my hipbone. My dress fell from one shoulder, one breast exposed while the other strained against the fabric that suddenly felt too tight. There was a wild, desperate look in my eyes I hardly recognized.
His fingers dug into my dress, the satin crumpling in his fists, and he hauled it up inch by excruciating inch until it bunched around my waist. I felt the cool air kiss my exposed skin, felt his eyes burning into me before I heard his sharp inhale.
The scrap of black lace I’d worn tonight was all that stood between us now.
His palms glided up the backs of my thighs before they found my ass.
His fingers pressed into my flesh before he slowly spread me open for him.
The first slap to my ass was so unexpected I gasped, more from surprise than pain, and my knees nearly gave out from under me.
I’d never let anyone touch me like that, never thought I’d want it, but the sting bloomed across my skin, sharp and hot, before it ebbed into a low ache that radiated through my body like a fever.
Before I could process that he’d done it, he did it again.
A second, harder blow this time before his hand instantly smoothed over the sting he’d left behind.
The paradox of pain and comfort made my breath hitch, and I heard a noise from my own lips that I’d never made before, strangled and shocked and wanting.
“Jesus, Colt,” I hissed, but my voice came out thin and needy.
He leaned in close, the length of him pressed against my back, his palm spanning my ribs as his mouth hovered at my ear.
I felt the hard scrape of his teeth before he let out a little laugh and his gaze met mine in the mirror.
“You want to behave, darlin’, or are you going to keep acting like a little brat?
” His drawl was rough and so low it vibrated through both of us, the words a dare and a promise and a threat.
I could see everything in the mirror, every humiliating and exhilarating detail.
There was an angry flush that crept up my chest, my nipples stood out hard and aching against the air and my dress, and my lips parted around a whimper.
Colt’s hat was still on his head, low over his brow, his jaw flexed and eyes wild.
He looked almost feral as he stared at me.
“Come on, Strawberry,” he murmured against my skin as his eyes fluttered closed and he breathed me in. “What’s it going to be?”
I wanted to fire back something smart, something to put him in his place, but instead, I breathed, “I’m going to be a brat.”
His eyes shot open, his gaze meeting and holding mine in the mirror as one of his hands ran along my scalp before he fisted my hair. He pulled my head back, baring my throat, as he grinned.
“There’s my girl.”
The words hit harder than his hand.
His hand twisted deep into my hair until my scalp prickled, and he pulled my head back until I had no choice but to see my own reflection.
I was panting, feral, and unrecognizable.
The woman in the mirror wasn’t the polished, proper version I’d crafted for men like Grant.
I couldn’t look away from this wild, unmasked version of myself, couldn’t hide from the naked hunger in my eyes that matched Colt’s.
The sight stripped me bare in a way no physical nakedness ever could.
It should have thrilled me, but it scared the living hell out of me instead. I watched as I crumbled for him, watched every trace of good sense bleed out of me until nothing was left but pure need.
Colt pressed me into the edge of the sink until the cheap laminate bit into my hipbones. His hand stayed locked in my hair, keeping my face turned to the mirror and forcing me to look. The other hand slid around my waist, his palm spreading wide and flat across my stomach.
He pulled me into him, until I could feel the hard line of his cock against my ass, then he dragged his hand lower.
His fingers trailed over the thin lace covering my pussy, and his touch was featherlight.
It was so gentle I whimpered in frustration, and my hips jerked forward, chasing more pressure.
He pressed his hand hard against me, forcing my hips back to where he wanted them, and he tsked. His knuckles pressed hard against my thigh as his thumb caught the top of my panties and yanked them down to my knees in one hard jerk.
I made a pleading sound as he kicked my feet apart with one of his boots between mine, spreading me wider, then his hand moved between my legs.
His fingers didn’t move for an endless, punishing second.
They just rested there, the pad of his index finger barely grazing my slickness.
I held my breath, unsure if I was more afraid he’d move or that he wouldn’t, and my face in the mirror twisted with the effort of not begging him out loud.
His eyes burned into mine, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a way that made my stomach drop.
His finger brushed against me, so light I might have dreamed it, and my legs quivered beneath me.
The gentleness was worse than any roughness could have been.
My resolve crumbled with each barely-there touch, my earlier defiance dissolving into desperation.
“Fuck,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I shivered against him.
His fingers moved then, and his smile was infuriating as he slid two thick fingers through my wetness, pressing them hard against my clit. My hips bucked against his hand, the counter edge cutting into my skin as a raw moan tore from my throat.
“Colt,” I gasped as his fingers came down against my pussy with a gentle slap.
He ground his hips into my ass, making it impossible to ignore the thick, desperate evidence of how hard he was.
The sight of him watching me so intently while he was coming apart himself made something inside me snap.
I wanted to be ruined by him. I wanted him to see me until there was no part of me left that didn’t belong to him.
And that scared the shit out of me. I wanted to run. I wanted to stay.
His thumb circled my clit, gently at first, then harder as he slid two fingers inside me. I was shaking, my hands slipping on the counter, my breath coming in frantic pants.
“Good girl.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear. “Do you want to beg me yet?”
The words sparked something in me I didn’t want him to see. I tried to wrestle out of his hold, but he pressed me down harder, bending me over until my cheek nearly touched the counter.
“I hate you,” I said harshly, because it was easier than admitting the truth.
He chuckled, low in his throat, and the sound traveled through his chest and into my back. “No, you don’t.” His teeth grazed the side of my throat. “You could never hate me.”
His fingers were still working inside me, each thrust slower and more measured until it bordered on excruciating.
His thumb was now featherlight, skimming over my clit with a restraint that made me ache in places I didn’t know I could.
He just watched me, his gaze fixing on me in the mirror, on the way my body shuddered beneath his touch.
Then he leaned up and traced his other hand down the length of my spine.
I bucked against him, furious at how desperate I was. I wanted to blame the alcohol, but the truth was, I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted Colt.
I closed my eyes as his hand wrapped around me and splayed against my stomach, and he lifted me until the brim of his hat brushed my hair. His other hand didn’t stop its assault as his words hit me. “I thought about you every goddamn day you were gone.”
My eyes snapped to his, and neither of us breathed. He pressed his fingers deeper inside me, and I cried out.
His thumb pressed hard against my clit, and my orgasm gathered fast, right at the edge. “Fuck, Colt?—”
His thumb vanished as the first wave hit, leaving me gasping until I nearly sobbed.
“You want something?” His eyes in the mirror were stripped of arrogance and replaced with something darker. “Ask. Nicely.”
I tried to fight it, but my hips betrayed me, grinding desperately against his hand, chasing the release he dangled just beyond my reach. When his fingers stilled completely, I whimpered.
“Please.” The word ripped from me, and I didn’t care how needy I sounded.
He plunged his fingers back inside me, curling them with devastating precision while his palm crushed against my swollen flesh. He played my body like he owned it, drawing out each sensation until stars exploded behind my eyes and my lungs burned for air.
Sweat slicked his forearm where it pinned me like steel against the counter. My pulse hammered violently in my throat, in my chest, in my pussy. His breath came in harsh pants against my neck, hot as a brand.
“You fucking love being bad for me, don’t you?” he growled, teeth grazing my earlobe.
“Yes.” The admission came so easily.
His fingers never stopped their assault as he tore my panties completely off with his free hand, the fabric giving way with a sharp rip. He kicked my legs so wide I nearly lost balance.
The metallic rasp of his belt and zipper cut through my fog. I watched him in the mirror as he freed himself, his cock thick as he positioned himself behind me.
He withdrew his fingers and pressed his cock against me, the heat of him searing my skin as he rocked against my entrance, the promise of what was coming making my legs shake violently beneath me.
He let me squirm, let the anticipation stretch, and then in one rough motion he filled me, hard enough the counter bit into my hipbones. I gasped for air as my body stretched to accommodate him.
He froze, buried to the hilt, his grip bruising my hip while his other hand fisted a handful of my hair until my scalp burned.
Every nerve ending in my body screamed with the dual sensations of pain and pleasure so intertwined I couldn’t separate them.
But it wasn’t just my body unraveling. It was my mind, my defenses, everything I’d sworn I’d never give him again.
In the mirror, I saw how my body arched, shivered, and was fully possessed by the man above me.
“Look at us, Blaire,” he commanded. “Look at how I can’t stop needing you.”
I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
He started to move, each thrust driving deeper than the last, and I watched my expression contort, my lips parting in silent pleas. His fingers dug into my hip as he slammed into me with enough force that the mirror rattled against the wall.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he growled, and I tried to turn away.
His hand pulled my head back, forcing me to witness our collision in the mirror. He fucked me like he was trying to carve himself into my body, and the bathroom filled with the brutal sounds of flesh meeting flesh, my whimpers, his grunts, until nothing existed but this—us.
“Tell me this pussy is mine, Blaire. I need to hear it.” His voice cracked with raw desperation.
I opened my mouth just as the door jolted. The cheap lock rattled in protest and threatened to give way as someone banged against it.
“Hello!” The pounding came again.
“Tell me,” he growled against my ear, his voice dropping to a feral whisper. His hips never faltered, each thrust driving deeper, harder.
“It’s yours,” I gasped.
He snarled a curse through clenched teeth, and I watched his eyes go black with possession. He reached down, his fingers finding my clit, and my orgasm hit like lightning. It seared through every bit of me, and I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat.
“That’s it, baby. Let them hear who it belongs to.” He drove into me with a punishing force as he chased his release. When he came, his entire body went rigid, fingers digging so deep I knew I’d wear his fingerprints for days. His groan vibrated through my spine as he pulsed inside me.
We collapsed forward, chests heaving, and my hair clinging to my sweat-dampened cheeks. My body still convulsed with aftershocks, and I knew something fundamental had shifted between us, something we couldn’t take back.
I looked up and caught my own reflection in the mirror. And for the first time in a long time, I saw her. The girl I’d abandoned when I left this town was staring right back at me.