Chapter 34
Denver
I’m still in Colt’s arms when we get to the brownstone. His home. One I’ll be spending more time at now I’m staying.
It wasn’t an easy decision. I ran over so many scenarios in my mind—of leaving, going to Australia, being with Axel. I’d be able to witness him living the life he’s always wanted.
I’d be starting from scratch in a new place with endless possibilities. My café by the beach. A legitimate business, with coffee art and baked goods and deliveries that aren’t guns or drugs. No looking over my shoulder. I could be me again. It’s a life I want so badly, but it felt empty.
Because it wouldn’t be with Colt.
My dream of escaping was possible, but not enough. Because I’d always want him by my side. I’d always regret walking away.
It’ll be hard. We’ll have setbacks. Ranger won’t accept this, and the times I cross paths with Wilder won’t be easy. But for Holly, I can do it. For Colt, I will do it.
As the door closes behind us, I kiss Colt again.
“I love you,” he says against my lips.
Love.
Real love.
Love that is respect. Love that makes you want to be better. A constant warm, caring feeling. A love that shouldn’t be real but is.
He kisses me, and my mouth never leaves his as he carries me upstairs.
We reach his room, and he sits me on his bed and kneels before me.
My heart races as his hands glide up my legs before they reach my coat, pushing it off my shoulders.
He grips the bottom of my sweater and lifts it over my head, and my breath feels too much but not enough.
He finally removes my T-shirt, his eyes greedily taking in the white lace bra beneath.
He pulls me to the edge of the bed, my knees open to allow him between them, and he buries his face in my chest, kissing the softness of my breasts. It’s so intimate to have him on his knees before me again, to see a moment of vulnerability from a powerful man.
I tangle my hands in his hair, closing my eyes as he unbuttons my jeans. I lift myself up to allow him to remove them until I’m sat only in my white lingerie.
I’ve never felt more seen. More present. More in a moment.
And when he pulls off his T-shirt, I hold my breath.
Intricate art covers his glorious body. One bicep is deep, solid black, leading to beautiful patterns made up of curls, lines, and dots.
Darkened clouds and timepieces are strangled by thorns of roses down his other arm, and I trace my fingers across an inferno that delves across his abs, hands grappling from the fiery pits of Hell and reaching for his heart—where a deep, vast void has been drawn so delicately I feel as though I could reach into his chest.
And above that, balancing delicately on his collarbone, is a small bird, its head tilted in intrigue as it looks into that void, as if considering flying into it.
My gaze meets his, and as I place my palm flat over the void, he takes my hand.
“I got it a few years ago,” he says quietly. “The artist had just designed it and said she’d do it for free just to see how it would look. I didn’t even know what it was until she’d finished. I said it’d be my last one.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingertips. “A robin.”
My heart races. “My middle name.”
He nods. “Finn said maybe it’s fate.”
Maybe it is. I lean forward and kiss the tattoo of the robin, and he exhales softly. I glide my hands down the powerful lines of his body and unbuckle his belt, but he catches my hands.
“This is about you.” He kisses me softly.
“Last time was about me, too,” I point out.
He grins. “That’s partly because I thought it was temporary. Now I have you forever, we can take our time.” He stands, and I look up at him, breathless at the power he exudes from a single movement. Forever. The word is beautiful and terrifying. “Lie on the bed.”
I do as he asks, my chest tight with anticipation. He hooks his fingers into my underwear, and I lift my hips as he glides the delicate material down my legs. Dampness clings to my inner thighs, and he kisses across my hips and spreads my legs.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, placing another kiss on my abdomen, then lower.
The first brush of his tongue is dizzying.
A light, delicate taste. “Fuck.” He growls the word and presses his mouth against me, gripping my thighs until he’s sucking, licking, circling my entrance.
I feel it in every part of me, spirals of pleasure pulsating through my legs, stomach, chest, arms, and mind.
Holy fuck, he really does devour me. My back arches, and my fingers snake through his hair as his tongue pulses against my clit.
And then he stops.
I release all the oxygen from my lungs. “No, no, don’t stop—”
My eyes roll back as his fingers slide into me, pumping slowly, too slowly, and my clit is desperate for attention—one stroke and I’ll careen into an orgasm.
I try to close my legs against his hand, to find some kind of friction, and he chuckles softly, leaning over me to take a nipple in his mouth.
“Del, when you come, I don’t want you to see me. I don’t even want you to see stars.” He nibbles my breast, moving up my neck, across my collarbone, until he reaches my ear. He plunges his fingers deep and I cry out. “I want you to see fucking heaven.”
“Please—” I grind against his hand, dizzy from want, my mind cloudy with desire. He finger fucks me perfectly until I’m squirming, begging, panting for more, and when he moves away from me, I whimper.
“Eyes on me, Del,” he says as he gets off the bed. He unbuckles his belt, the metal loud, dulled only slightly by the violent hammering of my heart. He pushes his pants down and my eyes widen.
His tattoos are down his hips, his thighs, beautiful patterns and art. And then there’s his length. His thickness. The bead of precum begging to be licked. It’s almost too cruel for him to be this magnificent.
My mouth waters and my legs instinctively open farther. He returns to the bed, kneeling between my legs, and slowly pumps his cock.
“Look what you do to me,” he says, and my gaze darts to his face.
“I’ve wanted this for so long. My cock is solid because of you.
Because of how beautiful you are. How badly I want to fuck you.
” His fist glides up and down his thickness, the end purpling with pressure.
He leans over me, one hand resting by my head, the other still slowly stroking himself.
My lips part, the thrill hissing through me like water across hot steel.
He kisses me and I feel the smooth, velvety end of his cock brushing against my clit, and I moan into his mouth, rubbing myself against him.
“That’s it,” he whispers against my lips. “Rub your pretty clit on my cock. Get yourself off on me.”
Fucking Christ, his filthy mouth, his words, his fucking everything. My movements become frantic, frenzied, and I’m close, my cries stuck in my throat—
He pulls away, and I swear. “You motherfucker!”
Colt laughs, and I’m about to curse him to the fucking heavens when he flips me onto my front and pulls me to my knees.
No words leave my mouth as he buries his face into my pussy from behind, his tongue sliding across both holes.
My back arches and I moan his name, a sheen of sweat coating my back and chest as I press needily into his face.
I bite my lip, holding back my desperate need to beg him to keep going, because if he stops again, I think I might die. Electricity tingles, builds, forms into a bud of ever-growing pleasure between my legs as his tongue works magic, giving each entrance time and patience and such wonderful—
I let out an actual sob when he stops this time.
But then I feel his cock gliding across me. He smooths a hand over my ass cheek, squeezing gently. “You look fucking perfect in this position.”
“You should probably fuck me in it, then.”
His laugh both warms and enrages me. “Is that what you want?”
“Well, fucking yes!”
His leans over me, and his breath is warm against my back as he kisses and chuckles. “Tough.” He reaches around and brushes across my clit, and it’s like a zap to my brain.
But he doesn’t let me come. He brings me to the edge again and again, until I’m fairly sure a stiff breeze would get me off.
Every part of my body is alive. My nerves feel raw, my skin is a charged wire, my brain is foggy.
My muscles don’t seem to be complying anymore, and neither does my mouth, because when he lays me on my back and kisses me after still not giving me what I want, I don’t have the energy to cuss him out.
“You’re doing so well.” He kisses my ear.
“So fucking well.” His mouth finds mine, a soft, languid, teasing kiss.
I don’t even allow myself to hope as his hand glides down, and he starts slow, beautiful circles on my clit again.
But the pleasure still builds, my body desperately chasing something my brain knows it won’t get.
My head drops back, my eyes flutter closed, and when his fingers slip inside me, I grind helplessly against the heel of his hand.
“That’s it. Ride my fingers. Fuck them.” The words reignite my energy, and I do as he says, clinging to his wrist as I grind against his thick, long digits.
“It’s yours, Del,” he whispers. “Take it.”
One final thrust of his fingers shatters me in the most perfect way.
It’s like a thunderbolt to my body. My toes clench.
My muscles stiffen. My head drops back, my body arching into his touch.
I’m drenched in warmth, in pleasure, lighting up as the orgasm grips and squeezes me and steals my breath.
My eyes fly open, a mixture of a cry and a scream of relief and pleasure escaping me.
And it doesn’t stop.
Pulses of ecstasy thunder through me, like waves of heat rushing across my body.
“Fuck, fuck,” Colt groans against my throat. “That’s it, squeeze me, just like that.”