33. Kiara
thirty-three
Kiara
C olton still has his jacket on when he carries me up to the bedroom, and I can’t say I mind my nipples rubbing against the soft, strong leather. Being half naked in his arms while he’s still in his racing gear might make me want him even more, if such a thing was possible.
“Are you on birth control?” When I nod, he adds, “You want me to wear a condom? I haven’t been with anyone in… over a year.”
Over a year? “No,” I whisper back, suddenly feeling shy.
He hisses and stops on the steps, looking at me. “Never gone skin-to-skin with anyone, Kiara. I need you to know that. You’ll be my first. I want that with you.”
My belly clenches with desire. The way he talks to me, soft and strong and controlling yet respectful—what was I thinking all this time, telling him no?
The fact he hasn’t been with anyone in over a year.
The fact he wants me differently… skin-to-skin.
The way he looks at me—with so much constrained desire, reverence, want, lust—makes me feel eminently more sexy that I am. It gives me the confidence I lack.
Suddenly, I believe everything he says. To my core, I know that he’ll always be in my life. Suddenly, all my hold-ups vanish. I can truly be me with him.
Because he likes me. All of me. My tiny breasts, my poking bones, my awkward hair.
“God you’re so beautiful, Kiara,” he says, peeling my pants off. “I don’t even know where to start.” He inhales deeply into my center and groans. “Missed your smell, babe. Missed it so fucking much.” He toes his boots off and straddles me, running his hands up and down my body. “This from Cassandra too?” he asks, and before I can answer, he rips my panties off my hips , the tearing sound so fucking arousing I buck my hips and dig my fingers in his shoulders.
“Take that thing off,” I say, trying to push his leather jacket off him.
“You don’t like it?” he teases.
“It’s the sexiest thing you own, but I want you naked. Now,” I add in a breath. How long have I fantasized over Colton Harper? And without much to go by, I might add. The man always wears jeans and flannels. Lucky in the summer if you get a glimpse of forearms—last time I checked, very corded and nicely veined.
“Sexiest thing I own, huh?” He drops his jacket to the floor and pulls off his sweater and layers in one smooth behind-the-head grab. “Are you saying this whole racing thing turned you on?” His bare torso is heaving as his gaze roams over my naked body. The barely-there drizzle of chest hair, and the wide expanse of muscles give my heart a mini seizure.
I reach for his jeans. “Like you didn’t know it would.” I wrangle with the belt for a bit. “Though that really wasn’t necessary.” The zipper is tight, my fingers fumbling against the stubborn metal.
“Babe,” he growls, taking over. “Lemme.”
I move my hands along his arms, and my mouth goes dry as he frees his cock, then gets rid of the rest of his clothing.
He takes a deep breath. “You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna come all over you.” He caresses my stomach, up to my breast, while my gaze stays glued to the drop pearling on the tip of his bobbing cock.
I just can’t not look. I feel my eyes widening. Swallowing hard, I reach for him and stroke him. Another pearl beads, then rolls off, reaching my thumb. My hips roll of their own accord toward him, but… “Colt,” I whisper.
“I know, babe.” He seems in pain.
Oh shit. What are we going to do? I state the obvious: “It’s never gonna fit.”
He drops his head to my chest and laughs softly. Then he reaches between my legs and goes straight for my clit. “Fuck you’re so wet.”
“But, Colt—”
He takes my mouth in his, kisses me while stroking my center, then frees my lips to whisper, “It’ll fit.”
“But how?”
He chuckles again. “Inch by inch.”
“It’s not funny,” I say, mildly offended, but reassured that his joke didn’t in any way affect his erection. Feeling him in my hand, knowing I’m the one doing this to him is… so empowering. I run the pad of my thumb over his wide tip, loving the feel of it.
He hisses. “Kiara…” then lowers his face between my legs, and I have nothing to hold onto except his hair as he…
“Colt!” I cry out as his tongue strokes me right where it’s supposed to—no more licking in circles like last time.
He hoists himself back up, kissing my neck.
I could come just by the way Colton kisses my neck.
He adds a stroke of his thumb on my nipple.
I could come from that, too. Totally could. The thumb is just the right amount of rough from working all day. Now he adds a finger and rolls my nipple slightly.
Then he dips his head lower and licks my other nipple.
My hips meet his cock. “I want you,” I whisper. “Please.”
He places himself at my entrance. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Kiara,” he says as his cock strokes my clit. “You have no idea.”
I wrap one leg around his waist. “Babe,” I whine, the want between my legs unbearable, “oh please.” I feel the orgasm building inside me, ready to roll out. Colton’s scent envelops me, his arms encapsulate me, and this, this is what I want right now: to lose myself inside this man.
I dig my nails in his butt, drawing him closer. With a grunt, he enters me slowly, a sharp pain tearing me deliciously as he slides two fingers between our joined bodies to stroke my clit. He pulses inside me, then stops breathing. “You okay?” he asks me.
I nod and pull him deeper inside me with my heel. “You?”
“Fuck, sweets, you have no idea how good you feel.” His dick twitches inside me again, making me moan. The pain is still there, sharp.
But so is the pleasure. Deep.
And my desire of him. Deeper still.
And seeing his hooded eyelids, the way he wants me, the pleasure he’s having simply with the two of us almost still, sends me overboard. I orgasm on Colton’s desire, and as my hips buck and pull him deeper inside me, the pain deepening then subsiding, the pleasure taking over, and more importantly, seeing, feeling, how much I mean to Colton, how nothing is fake or temporary, how we’re connected in our bodies and down to our souls, I let myself go, almost sobbing in relief.
How could I ever imagine doing this with anyone else than Colton? My best friend, my rock, the man who pulled me out of the abyss I thought was a refuge. I stroke his back, wanting him to stay here forever.
“You okay?” he asks.
I blink my eyes open. “You’re still hard.”
He pulsates inside me and takes a slow breath. “Didn’t want to hurt you more.”
“I need you to come inside me,” I say, almost begging.
Another pulse inside me, and he groans. Then he dips his face to my neck and suckles on the tender skin, making me arch my back. “Mmm,” I moan.
He kneads my nipple between two fingers and trails kisses up to my ear. My hips start rocking on their own, and Colton begins to move inside me. “Tell me how this feels,” he says.
“It feels awesome,” I whisper.
“Any pain?”
“No,” I lie.
He stops moving. “Kiara.”
“M-hm?”
“I don’t want you to ever fake an orgasm.”
“I didn’t fake—”
“I also don’t want you to ever tell me you’re okay when you’re not.”
“I’m okay,” I say, and do the heel-in-his-butt thing to get him back on track.
He starts moving again. Thank god. “You said you didn’t have pain and that’s not just not true.” I’m about to say How can you tell? when he adds, “Your pain line right there is showing,” he says, tracing some place between my eyebrows.
“I didn’t fake the orgasm,” I say, changing the topic.
“Oh, I know.” He starts moving inside me in a way that’s absolutely glorious. Deep, slow strokes. The pain is now a pinching, pleasure taking over. He looks down at our joined sexes, then groans and cups my whole body in his arms, bringing us closer still, burrowing his face in my neck.
His body vibrates with constrained energy, then he lifts his head off me to look me in the eye while his warmth fills me. Whispering my name, he cups my face. “Are you alright?” he asks, like he’s worried about something.
“Colt, I’m not gonna break,” I tell him. I might, but the feeling of inadequacy is seeping back inside. He hasn’t been with anyone in a year, and now he needs to be careful because I’m—was—a virgin. I might lack experience, but I’m well read. I know how these things are supposed to go, the first time. A man like Colt, he would probably have—
“Get out of your head, sweetness. Swear to god, best sex ever.”
I huff. “I didn’t do anything, and you’re afraid you’ll hurt me.”
He pushes himself up on his forearms, his body hovering over mine, his cock slowly sliding out. His gaze roams my face. “I got to taste your entire body for the first time, feel you shake under me for the first time, lick your neck for the first time, hear you say my name in a tone I’ve never heard before, feel your nails dig into my shoulders for the first time, find out there’s a good chance that for the rest of our lives you’re gonna be using your heels to bring me into you. So yeah, best fucking sex ever, sweetness.” He leans over, kissing me softly while I fight the tears of happiness that threaten to spill over.
These are the sweetest, deepest words he could tell me right now, but it isn’t going to do. “Colt?”
His lazy gaze roams my face, two fingers pushing my hair off my forehead. “Yeah?”
I narrow my eyes on him. “I’m still a virgin.”
Confusion spreads on his face. He frowns, and smirks, waiting for more.
I run my nails on his shoulders. “I’m a virgin until you come inside me and that’s it.” Locking my heels on his butt (I’ve been paying attention to what he said), I yank him in. “No discussion,” I whisper.
He groans and bucks his hips slightly. “Fuck but I love your bossiness, sweets.” He enters me in one stroke, making me flinch, pleasure and soreness deliciously mixed.
“You asked for it,” he grunts as he picks up the pace only slightly.
“That’s all you got?” I tease him, tugging him deeper inside me. He was right. He does fit. And being full with his heavy length is the best feeling ever.
“Saving you for later,” he whispers with hooded eyelids.
I slide my nails down his back, to his ass, and back up.
“Fuck it, babe, you feel so good,” he says as his back bucks under my hands.
My breathing hitches. “Ohmygod, Colt. Yes. Just let go with me. Please.”
With a groan he lifts himself slightly off me and makes eye contact, his gaze never leaving mine as his strokes become more and more powerful. He stills and throws his head back with a groan as heat fills me and I buckle under my own orgasm, gripping his shoulders.
Tremors seize his body, his forearms holding him right above me. “You okay?” he whispers.
I clutch his nape to bring him down on me. “Never been better,” I whisper back.
His heartbeat resonates through my whole body while he gently strokes my hair. He drops a kiss on my temple. “Don’t move,” he says, pushing himself off me. He disappears into the bathroom, the water runs for half a minute, then he comes back with a warm washcloth and runs it inside my thighs. “Does it still hurt?” he asks as he gently runs the soft side of the cloth over my folds.
I smile so big my cheeks hurt. “No,” I whisper, drawing him closer.
He drops the cloth on the floor and pulls me against his chest. “You know what I love the most about you?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
“Mm?” I ask back, stroking his hair.
He cups my hip with one hand. “You’re such a bad liar.”
I chuckle softly against him. I’ve got nothing to say to that.
We stay quiet for a while, until he breaks the soft silence. “Can I ask you a question?” he says, stroking my hair.
I brace myself. “M-hm?”
“Why did you bake me cupcakes for my dates?”
I lift my shoulder and continue to trail his chest hair with my finger. “To be nice.”
His face tilts down toward me. “You wanted to be nice to my dates?”
“I wanted to show them that…” The vision of Colton showing up at a date with a box of cupcakes pops into my brain and I chuckle. “What would they say?”
“You did it on purpose, didn’t you? To scare them off?”
I swat his chest. “No!” Maybe, to be honest. But not in a conscious way.
“What would they say?” I repeat, now curious as hell.
“Babe, I didn’t bring them your cupcakes.”
“No?!” I push myself up, pretending to be offended.
He brings me back against him with one effortless contraction of his bicep. “Not gonna waste pure perfection on some random chick I’ll never see again,” he mutters.
What?! My mouth stretches in a smile despite myself, and my center warms at the confirmation that none of these dates meant anything to him. “Colton Harper, did you eat them all by yourself?”
He tilts his head down at me. “Sure did. Each one of your cupcakes. Thinking about you first thing in the morning isn’t all that bad, let me tell you. Last thing at night, either.”
Is he saying he thought about me after his dates? My mouth dries up, and so does my brain. I have no follow-up question to this, not even something to confirm whether I heard him right or just made something up.
He groans, shifts to the side, and runs his calloused hand alongside my torso, the pad of his thumb barely grazing the curve of my breast. When he reaches my waist, he dips down to cup my hipbone and gives it a squeeze. “But the best goddamn cupcake is right here between your legs,” he mutters, moving down the length of the bed to place his mouth at my entrance.
“You did not!” I half giggle, half moan as he nuzzles my labia.
“Did not what?” The vibration of his voice against my intimate parts is almost untenable.
“Compare my vajayjay to a cupcake.”
He lifts his head, looking at me with amusement. “Vajayjay?” he repeats mockingly. Lowering his gaze, he adds, “ This is the ultimate cupcake. Don’t care what silly name you want to call it. This here is my cupcake.”
His lazy tongue strokes kindle my arousal, but then he seems to have a different idea and licks his way up to my neck, then cups my whole body in one arm and pulls my back against his front. “You okay being the little spoon?” he asks as he wraps a leg over my hips and strokes my arm.
What is he talking about? “The what?”
His stroking halts a beat before resuming, but he doesn’t answer my question. “I’m not too heavy, am I?” he asks instead.
“No, I’m good,” I answer, wiggling my ass to be deeper inside his hold.
“God you feel so good,” he says, propping his head on one hand, the other caressing my shoulder, my breasts, my hip, then back up all the way to my head. I feel him harden a little against me, and it makes me want him again.
But without transition, he says, “Dude has a nice place here.”
We’re both looking in the same direction. The bedroom area on the mezzanine opens on the vast living area below, all natural wood and exposed beams. A comfortable sectional is an invitation to cuddle and read all day near the wood-burning fireplace, looking outside to the evergreens heavy with fresh snow. I’m just now noticing the bedroom—deep white duvet, fluffy white faux fur area rugs on blond hardwood floors, soft pastels of deer, wolves, and bears on the walls. “The best.”
He drops a kiss on the edge of my ear. “You like?”
“Love it. Don’t you?” I ask, twisting my neck to look at him.
He has a dreamy smile on his face. “Yeah.”
“I don’t ever want to leave,” I whisper.
He cups my hip. It seems to be his favorite place to rest his hand. “Pretty sure we can stay as long as we need to.”
“It’s not like we can go anywhere,” I add. The race car is barely visible under the snow now, and you can’t tell the access road from the rest of the forest floor.
“What kind of birth control are you on?” he asks out of the blue.
I flop on my back to look at him “The Pill. Why?”
His gaze roams my face. “Bad periods?” he asks.
It’s just like Colton to know about these things. “The worst.”
He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “Does the Pill help?”
I shrug. “Kinda.”
He stays silent for a little bit, caressing my belly. “You hungry?” he asks.
“Starving.”