Chapter 9 Colby #2
I believe I’m freaking invincible even as I feel like I’m being watched while I walk out of the building and okay, maybe I even run a little to the black SUV that, as Eian said it would be, is still parked there, and no cops are around to give him any tickets.
“Hey, woah, woah.” Eian’s clearly startled by how I practically throw myself into the car and slam the door behind me. “What’s the matter?” he asks with that dangerous frown, then he looks out the windows as if searching for the men who are following me—of course there are no men.
“I’m just . . . revved up,” I confess.
“But you got everything, right? I was listening . . .”
“Yeah, I got everything.” I nod a couple of hundred times. Eian stares at me for a moment, but then, without taking his eyes away from me, he taps twice on the partition and the car starts moving.
“Then what the fuck?” He nods at me like that explains his question.
“I felt like I was a spy,” I confess, the giddy energy pouring out of me. I don’t even care how dorky I sound, this is exciting shit. I can’t even sit still, twitching around like I’m on crack or something.
After another moment staring at me, Eian presses a button so the partition will open.
“Park somewhere quiet then get out,” he orders, then sits back and stares straight ahead.
My adrenaline spikes even more at how tense he seems all of a sudden, hands balled up into fists, jaw jutting out so much he’s gotta be grinding his molars.
God, is he gonna take the research then leave me in some deserted alley?
The car stops and I hear the driver’s door open then close with a decisive bang. I can’t fucking take this, it’s too much, it’s too . . .
“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet, I don’t—”
“Shut up,” Eian says and lunges for me. This kiss is more punishing than the ones before, almost like he’s trying to suck my soul out, but it gives me something to put all this energy into, and as he plunges his tongue into my mouth and takes me over, I realize I’m already hard.
As fast as the flip of a light switch, my dick is on board.
He pulls me forward by the hips until I’m almost on top of him, then grips my thigh and swings it over his legs so I end up straddling him.
His lips knead mine as his hand trails up my chest and stops at my neck. He holds me there, captive and willing as he devours my mouth, bites my lower lip a bit too hard, then wrenches his mouth away and stares at me with that intensity that seemed deadly before but now only looks hungry. Starving.
“You’re fucking irresistible when you look like that,” he says as his eyes flit across my face at light speed.
“Like what?” I ask, my voice embarrassingly breathless.
“Like you need me. Like you’re full of fucking life.” I feel his hard cock under me, and also the strain of my own dick pressing against my pants.
I do need him. I want him.
“I want you,” I say out loud, feeling brave.
And for the first time, I’m the one who kisses him. I bury my fingers in his hair and tilt his head back just enough so the angle of the kiss is easier, and as I take control of his mouth this time, his hand trails back down my chest.
He pauses, or maybe hesitates, when he’s almost at the hem of my shirt, but I don’t want him to stop, I don’t want him to hesitate. I lift off my knees until his hand brushes against my crotch, and that’s clearly all the permission he needs.
My pants are open and around my thighs quicker than I can process it, and my briefs seem to magically disappear, because the next thing my mind registers is his warm hand circling my dick and stroking me from root to tip.
Instinct takes over and I reach down between us to free him too. It takes me longer than it did him, but when I can finally feel that thick, hard cock, I moan into his mouth just from picturing it.
I have to look.
So I lean back, and when I do, I let out a filthy groan.
“Fuck yes.”
That’s as eloquent as I’m going to get right now because he squeezes me tighter, strokes me faster.
I spit on my hand then circle his cock, wanting—needing to get him off, to see him come just from my touch.
“Let me, sweet Colby,” he murmurs sweetly. Yes, sweetly. And it’s so foreign it surprises me, but what surprises me the most is how fitting, how natural it sounds.
He also spits in the palm of his hand and then lines up our dicks together, squeezing us both.
“Fuck my hand, Colby.” It’s an order, there’s no other way of interpreting it, and damn if I’m not happy—even eager—to follow.
I pump my hips so I slide in and out of the slippery grip of his hand.
I have to hold on to his shoulders to keep my balance and bite down on my lip to keep myself from shouting and begging, but as I thrust as hard as I can, I see his jaw bulge, the veins of his neck pop, and when he throws his head back to rest against the seat, I know he’s as desperate as me.
I lean down and lick a line from his collarbone to just below his ear. I need to taste that desperation. I need, I need—
“Eian,” I moan when that heat builds up deliciously in my center, and as I shatter in his arms, he grunts three times, and I feel a second burst of warm stickiness cover us both.
For a minute, I rest my forehead on his shoulder, just breathing through what . . . whatever it is that just happened.
“Holy shit,” I manage to say, and I even find the strength to lift my head. “Where the hell did that come from?” I demand.
His half smile is sweet this time, and again it strikes me how well it fits him even though I never would’ve thought so.
“I thought you could do with letting off some steam, and like I said, you looked fucking incredible when you got in.” He cups my cheek. “You still do.”
And what, I wonder, am I supposed to tell my horrified conscience now?
I use the borrowed sports coat to clean us up and don’t say anything else while Eian tells Blake to get back in the car.
Instead, I make good use of the hour it takes us to get back to the house to get a fucking grip.
I can’t keep letting Eian kiss me whenever he wants.
I need to get my hormones under control, get my feelings in check.
That’s the main issue, I realize only halfway there—there are already feelings.
That’s an insane thought to have, and I’m definitely not going to voice it.
Eian keeps going from “I’m going to kill you” to “let me show you what a real kiss is,” and then throws me some “you’ve been having sex wrong all your life.
” I can’t even think about what actual sex with him would be like, because then I’d forget that’s not something I’m supposed to want.
Aside from saving my life, being honest with me, and kissing the fuck out of me, he hasn’t really shown me anything real about himself.
Sure, by now I know he’s not the worst kind of man in the world. I’d like to think that’s why I’ve been letting him get all up on me, but I can’t be a hundred percent certain of that.
My mind is still a complete mess when the car stops and Eian opens his door.
“I think we should set up in the library,” he says super casually.
“You have a library?” I demand, and scramble to climb down.
“Yes,” he says simply and keeps walking at an unreasonably fast pace so I have to basically jog behind him to keep up.
“I’m going to need a completely wiped laptop,” I tell him, suddenly remembering the rules of the game.
“It’s waiting there for you,” he says, and dammit, it shouldn’t be so sexy how competent and one step ahead of me he is. “But you should go spend the rest of the morning with Maggie, and after lunch, we can start. I need to get to work.”
He walks into the second door on the left off the foyer and closes it behind him with a definite click.
Man, if he ever shows me even a little bit of humanity, I’m going to be screwed.