chapter thirty-two
Wren
Gemma is asleep next to me in my bed. We had drank some more wine, ate more chocolate, watched a silly and romantic movie, whispered about Colton and Lance, and then got ready for bed. It had been too long since we’d had a sleepover, and I was still buzzing with love and excitement an hour after Gemma started snoring.
We had discussed at length my creepy stalker behavior at paying his mom’s medical bills. But overall, she was supportive in the decision. Her input was that I should have discussed it with him first to avoid any overstepping or undermining. She was probably right, but I had already done it.
I turn over and stare out the window at the clear, starry sky. I hear the clang of dishes downstairs and I almost panic. The alert tone for the door system on my phone is set to a sonic boom level more suited to someone’s grandma’s phone in the grocery store, so I know nobody has entered the house. I remind myself by looking at my phone and not seeing an alert. It’s probably Colton or Lance. Getting out of bed, I decide to make my sleeplessness their problem.
Creeping down the stairs, I see the reflection of Colton in the darkened windows. I see the back of his head and can tell his mask is on but pushed up to keep his face exposed. I wait at the doorway to the kitchen, hoping to see him turn around and catch at least a glimpse of his face. He notices my presence before I get so lucky. He stiffens and pulls the mask down before turning around.
“How did you know I was there?”
He points at the kitchen window. “Your reflection.”
I can hardly blame him. That’s exactly how I was spying.
“Was hoping to catch a glimpse of your face.”
“Too bad.”
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? Cleaning up,” he says with a gesture to the sink full of the dishes that didn’t fit in the dishwasher.
“Yeah, but it’s almost two in the morning. I could have finished up after some coffee,” I say and move to tie off the full trash bag.
“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get something done.” He shrugs and starts the water to wash the rest of the dishes by hand. I put in a new garbage bag and gather the remaining trash.
We’re silent until he turns off the sink faucet. “Why are you awake?”
“I also couldn’t sleep.”
We both look at each other for a second before Colton braces his hands on the edge of the sink and lets his head hang between his shoulders.
“I assume that means you talked stuff out with Lance?” I ask and lean my hip against the counter.
“Yeah.”
“Let me guess, he said to leave me alone. You’re too old for me, too good for me, too normal for me—”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“He said we need to make a plan for me to exit your security team so we can be together,” he says and turns to me.
“Then I’d have to have some other Blue Jay here. It would be you, me, and some other guy. Remember, I hate having a Blue Jay,” I spit out and cross my arms.
He exhales with a shake of his head.
“Do you trust my safety with another guy?” I challenge and raise my chin.
“Fuck no. I don’t care who hires him,” Colton says with a snarl of disgust.
“See? You can’t leave.”
He scoffs.
“Who would feed Angelica her treats?”
“Ask Lance. He’ll help,” he says, amusement in his voice. “And I’m not leaving , leaving. I just wouldn’t work here. I would still be here in the evenings and mornings. Maybe you could have a nine-to-five Blue Jay.”
Now it is my turn to scoff and pout.
“And I wouldn’t be working for your dad anymore, so we’d need to work out how I contribute to the bills. Maybe pay rent—”
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“Take. Off. Your. Clothes,” I demand slowly.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve insulted me and talked about leaving. I need to punish you.”
He quickly sheds his clothes, careful to keep his mask on. I can’t tell if his haste to get undressed is founded in his eagerness or his obedience. Maybe it’s both. I bite the corner of my lip to keep in a smile.
“You’re not leaving me and putting me into the hands of another man,” I say, and get as close to him as I can without touching him. My neck is tilted almost all the way back to look up at his face, but it doesn’t take away from the power he hands over to me with his submission.
“And the only fucking rent you ever pay me is with this,” I finish and grip his dick hard in my fist. He hisses out his pain but doesn’t move, other than an involuntary flinch. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” he breathes.
I grip him harder and I hear him catch a shout in his throat.
“Yes, Mistress,” he amends. I let go.
“Good boy,” I croon. “Now finish those dishes.”
Colton moves to pick his clothes back up, but I stop him. “Uh-uh-uh, naked.”
He finishes the dishes and wipes down the counter in silence while I watch and sip a mug of herbal tea. Watching his muscles shift and move as he works will probably never get old. It’s a special treat when he drops the drying towel on the floor and has to bend to pick it up. I groan behind him and he chuckles.
Once he’s finished, I slide him the empty mug from my tea. He cocks an eyebrow at me and sets it in the sink. When he turns back to me, his eyes are hooded and smoldering. With only a glance down, I see he has grown hard and straining.
“Stroke it,” I demand.
He obeys. A slow tight stroke over his cock has his breath catching and his abs clenching. When he’s relaxed, the grooves of his abdominal muscles are not visible, but when he tenses up, the lines show in the scattering of hair. On every downward stroke, his muscles become visible and he lets out a breath. I could watch this show for hours, but I want to play tonight.
“Stop.”
His hands drop from his cock immediately.
“Is Lance in bed?”
“Yeah, I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“Guess you’ll have to show me you can be quiet.”
His eyes widen. “Wren, what if they come down here?”
“Then they’ll see you being a whore,” I say and approach him. “My whore.”
“The cameras,” he says hoarsely.
“Nobody is watching us,” I say confidently and lower myself to my knees.
His cock bobs near my face as his muscles quiver with excitement. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to grab my head and slam himself into my mouth. I am just as eager as he is. Lifting my hands to his thighs, I lightly caress over his skin and make him shiver. Goosebumps rise and I rake over the little bumps with my nails.
Inhaling, I smell his soap and the remnants of laundry detergent. I’m thankful he is clean. Though I wonder if making him wash his junk in the kitchen sink would be a suitable form of degradation. Too eager for this to push him anymore, I lean in and lick a stripe from the underside of his base to his tip. He groans and his hands flutter by my head before going back to grip the countertop behind him.
I lick my lips to lubricate them and look up at him from under my lashes. He’s tall enough that I have to crane my neck slightly to get him in my mouth. His eyes are on me intently, hooded and wanting. I lick up the little drop of pre-cum and he tilts his head to the side and exhales a moan. He’s begging me with his eyes, and I am filled with lustful power.
“Fuck, baby,” he whisper moans as I take him into my mouth. He’s heavy, thick, and warm. His skin is soft against my lips and tongue as I bob my head. I cover him with saliva so it’s easier to take him in to the base. I get him to the hilt, my nose buried against his blond curls.
He whimpers. “Hold it like that, don’t move. Oh, fuck, your mouth feels good.”
I follow his order and his thighs quiver. I’ve barely done anything, and this man is about to explode. Vaguely, I wonder when he was last sucked off to completion. It couldn’t have been recently if this is how he is reacting. Victory at this realization has me feeling generous.
“Take what you need from me,” I say after pulling off of his length.
A second later, his hand is in my hair at the back of my head and the other cupped around my throat. I wonder if he can feel himself in there. He’s clearly trying not to be brutal in his thrusts, but my eyes are watering at his barely controlled thrusting.
“So good… I’m sorry. Yes, that’s it… you’re perfect, princess. Oh God—yes,” he murmurs and whimpers until his words grow unintelligible.
Unable to resist the sights and sounds and sensation of him losing control, I bring a hand down and into my panties. I’m wearing a pair of sleep shorts and panties, but I’m already soaking them. Swirling my fingers around my clit, I moan around him.
His eyes go unfocused as he fucks my mouth. While I’ve never had complaints about my oral skills, having him take what he needs and use me is a breath of fresh air. Or lack thereof, really. Black spots dot my vision as he’s too far down my throat for me to even breathe through my nose. He eases back when I tap his thigh.
“You’re doing so good, baby. Can I keep going?” he asks while I suck down air.
I answer by putting him back in my mouth. He pets my hair back and breathes out a laugh before he continues with slow, even thrusts. Less deep thrusts that leave me room to swirl my tongue and suck and swallow. His thighs begin their trembling again and I reach up my free hand to cup his balls. He groans and growls when I sync up, squeezing his balls with hard sucks on his cock.
“I’m going to come. Can you suck me through it?”
As much as I enjoy bossing him around, the way he knows exactly what he wants is also just as sexy. I feel my climax creeping up, so I stop swirling my clit and reach lower to dip two fingers into my already wet entrance. I spread my legs and ride my hand, feeling my arousal soak my clothes. Previously to Colton, I’d only been able to come this much alone after edging myself for a while. It took build up, intense arousal, and skill. But here I am, gushing into my hand on my kitchen floor while my masked bodyguard fucks my mouth. I haven’t even orgasmed yet.
“Can I? Can I please come in your mouth while you suck me?” he begs because I haven’t answered him.
I nod once, careful not to bite him, and he strokes my hair back from my face. I moan as another rush of arousal comes and I hear it hitting the floor. He notices now and his eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re… while you—fuck!”
He grips my hair and throat tightly, and I suck him as hard as I can. He holds his breath like he’s trying to stifle his moan. His eyes roll back before he closes them tightly. He’s so far back in my throat now his come goes right down to my belly and I don’t even have to swallow. I feel him pulsing against my tongue while his legs vibrate on either side. His hands are even shaking in my hair.
The eroticism of his orgasm has me tipping over the edge, and I come. My fingers are pressing right on the spot I need to come hard. I don’t relent. I am not gentle with myself. There’s a puddle below me and I’m now only held up by the cock still in my mouth and the hands in my hair.
On shaking legs, he gets to his knees. His cock slips from my mouth and his hands move down my neck to caress my shoulders and arms. He slumps against the kitchen island and catches his breath.
My ass is in the cooling puddle of my come and I shiver. “Clean up my mess,” I demand through my trembling voice.
He looks at me with a cocked eyebrow and tilted head. He points lazily to the dishtowel just over my shoulder.
I scoff. “With your mouth.”
“The floor is dirty,” he argues.
“You were the one to mop in here earlier. Are you saying you didn’t do a good job?”
Despite the mask, I can see his jaw clench. Somehow, implying he didn’t mop well strikes more of a nerve than demanding he lick my come off the floor. He pushes himself into an all-fours position and gets his masked face close to mine. “I did a great job.”
“Do another good job and I’ll let you come again.”
“I can’t come again,” he says self-deprecatingly.
“You can. You’re not that old.”
“I said nothing about my age. I’m just tired and had some bourbon earlier,” he defends.
I giggle and move out of the puddle so he can clean it up. He lifts his mask to his nose and lowers his mouth to the floor. He licks up some of my come and I squirm where I’m sitting. It’s so hot my pussy pulses, wanting more.
His ass is in the air as he works and my molars itch with the urge to bite his peachy cheeks. I slide across the admittedly well mopped floor to be behind him. He sits up on his heels and cranes his neck to look back at me. “What are you doing?”
“Checking out your ass.”
“Why?”
“I’ve wanted to bite it for a long time. Now get back to work.”
He laughs and goes back to cleaning the floor. When he bends over, I watch his glutes shift. He moves so his knees are closer together, like he’s growing shy under my gaze. This is probably close to degrading for him. Probably goes against every instinct to be so vulnerable with his body. I should be nice.
Should.
I bite my lip as the proverbial angel and demon on my shoulders war it out.
I’m not sure who wins because I’m chomping down on the globe of his left ass cheek while my hand grips the right. He jerks forward and almost shouts in pain and shock. “Fucking piranha!”
I giggle and unlatch my jaw from his flesh. I didn’t draw blood, but there’s a clear definition of my teeth. Pulling back, I realize his hole is right there. I hadn’t thought about doing anything.
Until now.
He jerks and straightens his arms, craning his head back after I spit directly at the top of his ass crack. “What are you doing now?”
“Playing with your body,” I reply as I watch the glob of spit travel down to his hole. “Do you remember your safe word?”
“Uh, it’s unicorn,” he gulps nervously.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” I croon as I circle his hole with my index finger. Swirling my spit around.
He hesitates a moment before he leans back down to the floor and, therefore, opening himself up more to me.
“That’s a good boy.”
“Fuck,” he exhales. The sound echoes against the floor.
I add more spit until my finger is well lubricated. Thankful I chose short nails for gardening season, I press slowly into him. He hisses in a breath and his hips twitch forward and away from my intrusion. Keeping a firm hand around his upper thigh, I press in to the first knuckle. His body feels hot and tight, and I vaguely wonder if this is what a pussy feels like for a dick.
He keeps up a steady stream of swearing but he doesn’t safe word. He’s so talkative and I keep an ear perked for the stop all contact magic word. This man is easily more than a hundred pounds heavier than me and over a foot taller. He’s trained in heaven knows how many combat tactics. I could be thrown across the room in the blink of an eye.
But he doesn’t stop me.
Sweat beads along his spine as I work my finger to the second knuckle.
“That’s it, baby. You can take me,” I whisper in awe of the man in front of me.
“Wren Elizabeth,” he halfheartedly warns.
“Colton Alexander,” I mock back at him.
He huffs a strangled laugh and I see him shaking his head.
His knees slide outward a little, and I see his heavy erection hanging between his legs. My hand on his thigh would be better used there. I think about angles for a minute and decide reaching through his legs would be best. When my hand wraps around his cock, he lets out a choked whimper.
With some more spit, I work my finger all the way in and start curling it. Looking for the spot that’ll make him scream. Both hands set to pleasuring him, I watch the sweat dripping down his back. He moans against the kitchen floor, his head resting on his forearms.
When his moaning turns to a deep growling sound, I work him harder and faster. “Fucking come on the floor. Look at this slut getting fucked on the kitchen floor. Ass full of his boss.”
It’s only one finger, but it sounds dirty to say. I bite down on his cheek again, careful to not overlap the bites. He lets out a sound I can only describe as a snarl as his hips tip. I feel his cock pulsing in my hand and his ass clenches on my finger. He’s coming and I slowly work him through it. I pull out of him gently, careful not to hurt him.
With a growl of effort, he has me flipped on my back before his cock is even done spraying. He slams into me in one easy thrust. I was so focused on him, I didn’t realize how heavy and wanting I was. His cock in me feels like a relief for an ache I hadn’t known was there. With his thumb on my clit, he fucks me hard and fast. I was already strung so high it’s seconds before I’m coming with a squeal. I buck against him uncontrollably, but he uses that strength he didn’t exert before to keep me pinned against the floor. He slows his thrusts as I come back to my body. The sound of our fucking is wet and dirty.
He kisses me, his mask still pushed up to his nose. I can taste myself on his lips and I moan again. He pulls out of me and we lay side by side on the wet and sticky floor as we catch our breath.
“Holy shit, I’ve never….”
“Me neither,” I reply and curl into his bare chest.
He kisses my head gently and we say nothing else until the air conditioning cools the sweat on our skin and makes us shiver. Wordlessly, but kissing and touching whenever we pass each other, we clean up and take turns showering in the basement. It’s almost dawn, but I head back up to bed with Gemma, and Colton settles down on the couch.
With a heart bursting with love and happiness, I fall asleep immediately.