TWENTY-THREE
COLT
“Colt.”
“Hmm?” I ask her, eyes purposefully glued to the TV screen while my hands are even more purposefully glued to her thigh. Massaging it, of course. Because her legs hurt after her trip to the mall.
“My thighs don’t hurt.”
“Oh, good. The massage is working then?”
She huffs impatiently and I swear to god, my dick twitches.
“My thighs never hurt. It was my calves that were hurting.”
Fuck. I knew that, I was just hoping she wouldn’t call me out on it so quickly.
I’ve been having dreams about her thighs around my head and touching them was the next best thing.
Well… no. My body between them would be the first best, my head between them would be second, hands between them would be third, and touching them like this is fourth.
“Colt?”
“Hmm.”
“That means you can stop touching them.”
“I can stop or you want me to stop, because those are two very, very different things.”
She’s quiet for long enough I figure I’ve overstepped, so I pull my hands away and look up at her to apologize, but what I see is not a woman who wants me to stop touching her.
Pupils blown wide, cheeks and neck flushed, lips wet and slightly swollen on the bottom, like she’s been biting it.
I’ve seen her this way twice before: the first time, at the hotel and the second, in the barn right before she came inside to touch herself in the shower with no clue as to how thin the walls are in that bathroom.
I reach over to push a piece of hair that’s fallen in front of her face back behind her ear.
“Do you remember what I told you?” The skin between her brows wrinkles in her confusion, but I smooth it out with my thumb. “Are you ready for me to take care of you, pretty girl?”
Now that I’m paying attention, I feel her thighs shift again and understand what it means. The movements I’d been mistaking for her getting comfortable earlier were actually her pressing them together, trying to find her own relief.
Her eyes flick between mine, but I don’t know what she’s thinking she’ll find there other than a man who’s half fucking gone for her already.
“If we do this, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
I laugh. “Oh baby, when we do this, it’s going to mean everything. We don’t have to take it all the way tonight if you don’t want to, but I’m literally jonesing to go down on you, so…”
“Jonesing?” she says with a smile.
I nod with a sympathetic one myself, since it looks like I’m the only one who has pity for my pussy-eating plight.
“Jonesing hard,” I tell her, letting my hand creep up her thigh again. “You want to pretend you haven’t been jonesing for my dick, baby?”
Her nose scrunches. “Stop saying ‘jonesing,’ it’s getting weird.”
I slide my hand between her thighs and against the seam of her shorts, immediately burying my face against the sheets because she’s warm as fuck. She gasps when I press harder, the silk of her sleep shorts hiding nothing from me.
“Please, Blair?” I beg, kissing her arm just because it’s within reach. “Let me take care of you. Let me fucking worship you, baby.”
She shivers when I press another, open-mouthed kiss against her skin. “Most of your family is in this house.”
I grin, because I know I’ve got her.
“Then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet for me, won’t you, pretty girl?”
Blair bites her plush bottom lip and I think I’m going to starve to death if I don’t get a piece of her soon. I’d just about take anything she’d give me at this point.
“You really just wanna go down on me?” she asks, trepidation clear on her face.
I laugh. “Yeah, baby. I really, really fucking do.”
“I haven’t been able to shave for a while. It’s getting sort of… hard to see down there.”
“Fuck,” I groan as the thought of shaving her enters my mind. I don’t know why that’s so insanely erotic to think about. I’d originally thought it could just be something nice I did for her since she’s carrying my kid, but my horny brain quickly derailed it.
“I don’t care, Blair. Genuinely. You could tell me it’s a total jungle down there and I’d still be tying a hypothetical napkin around my neck.”
Blair giggles. “It’s not quite that bad.”
“Great. So…?”
She bites her bottom lip and then hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her sleep shorts.
“Just this once.”
“Sure,” I agree. It’s not going to be just this once .
She pulls her knees back to pull the shorts off her feet and I take advantage of the position by lowering myself beneath them, helping her find urgency in spreading her thighs once she tosses the shorts to the floor.
“Fuck, I missed this pretty pussy so goddamn much,” I breathe, spreading her with my thumbs.
“Colton, do not sniff me!” she reprimands, and honestly, I hadn’t even realized I was doing it, but the smell of her pussy is deep in my nostrils, so I must’ve.
“Sorry, sorry,” I tell her, though I’m not. I let my tongue make a more believable apology, straight up through her slit and around her clit before I suck it between my lips.
She moans deeply and then bites her bottom lip.
“Quiet, baby,” I remind her, knowing damn well she’s loud in bed. I remember the neighboring hotel room slapping their hand against our wall during round three all those months ago.
“You have no idea how good that feels,” she whimpers, leaning back against the pillows. The angle’s a bit difficult since lying completely on her back is uncomfortable for her now, but in the name of eating pussy, I can make anything work.
“I’ve barely gotten started.”
I suck on her clit some more, just because that makes her squeal the most and it entertains me how hard she’s trying to keep her sounds quiet, and then slip two fingers inside.
Watching her pink cunt wrap around my tattooed digits makes my cock throb and I go ahead and resign him to the fact he’s not getting any tonight.
He might be sad about the turn of events, but I most certainly am not, especially when Blair’s fingers twist in my hair.
“Colt,” she whimpers when I curl my fingers just right, and I moan against her, convinced there’s not a better sound in the world than hearing her breathy little voice say my name like that. I shift, rutting my hard cock against the bed to try and placate it.
“Yeah, mama? Feel good?” I ask her, using my thumb against her clit so I can press kisses to her thigh instead. Her breath hitches and I know she’s getting close already. She wasn’t kidding about how horny pregnancy’s been making her.
“What feels better? My fingers or my mouth? I wanna make you feel good.”
“Just don’t stop,” she breathes, eyes squeezing shut and I know enough to know that when someone says not to stop during sex, you damn well better listen.
Her cunt chokes my fingers a few seconds later and I groan against her thigh, remembering exactly what that felt like around my cock. Maybe if I’m a good boy, she’ll let me feel that again sometime soon.
I pull my fingers free as she comes down, wrapping my lips around them to suck off the taste while Blair catches her breath, eyes closed.
“Going to get a washcloth,” I tell her as I slip out of the room and into the hall.
“She’s loud,” Bailey snarks quietly as she leaves the bathroom moments before I reach the door.
“She’s having a good time,” I counter, cocky.
My twin scoffs and I step in front of her so she can’t pass.
“Do you have an issue with her?”
“No,” she says, crossing her arms but staring over my shoulder to avoid my eyes. She could get around me if she wanted to. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had my nipple twisted because I was blocking her in, or play-wrestling too hard, or some other offense.
“You sure? Because I’d really like it if you two could get along. You’re both really, really fucking important to me.”
Bailey’s face softens a bit, her eyes finally meeting mine.
“I don’t have a problem with her, Colt. I promise. I’m just—” Whatever she was going to say, she cuts herself off. “I’ll make more of an effort.”
“Okay. Thank you, Bail. Love you,” I tell her, pulling her in for a one-armed hug while very pointedly keeping my right hand away from her .
“Love you, too. Go wash your hands. They smell like pussy.”
By the time I get the washcloth back to Blair, she’s asleep.
I wash her as gently as I can, before tossing the rag in my hamper and slipping back into the bed with her.
She grumbles as I try to rearrange her so she’ll be more comfortable, but after countless nights of her falling asleep while we were watching her show together, I know she’s a deep sleeper… when it’s not raining, that is.
“Shh, roll onto your side, mama. You’ll be more comfortable.”
She doesn’t argue, rolling over and letting me spoon her from behind.
“G’night, cowboy,” she mumbles sleepily.
I press a kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, pretty girl.”