Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Jenna
Ilie in bed, and the moment I pull the sheets over me, my hand drifts down to my clit.
My whole body clenches like a greedy little fist. That bastard has been haunting my goddamn thoughts since this morning when I caught a glimpse of his cock swinging heavy between those tree-trunk thighs.
That man is built like a fucking Greek statue—if Greek statues had veins that throbbed along their forearms and abs so deep you could lose a finger tracing them.
And that dick—thick, long, the kind of cock that makes your mouth water just thinking about how it would stretch your lips wide.
How the ridge would catch on your tongue when you sucked him down to the root.
Not that I usually think like that. Well, maybe right now because I’m dying of horniness.
It still feels so surreal that I sometimes get those innocent kisses from him.
Yet, they always come across as if he’s kissing his sister or something.
I don’t think he sees me the way I see him—like a giant piece of chocolate I want to devour.
I want him to ruin me.
I want his teeth on my neck, his hands bruising my hips, his cock pounding into me until I forget my own goddamn name. Just the thought makes me rub my clit faster.
My brain has turned to mush since I saw him in the shower. It’s all-consuming. And just as I stroke my clit, I picture him kissing me right there. I’ve never let a man do that.
Matthew once said he thinks women smell, and that was the end of it for me.
I could never let him near my pussy, and before Matthew, I only had casual encounters with three others.
I was too young back then to fully explore my body and desires.
But now, all I can think about is Colton’s tongue on my clit, maybe even sliding into my hole, and I shudder at the thought.
I crave more, so I slide my finger into my pussy, and a tiny gasp leaves my mouth.
But my fingers aren’t cutting it.
I’m soaked, my pussy lips swollen and sticky, but the second I push a second finger in, it’s like my body knows it’s not him and just dries up out of spite until it hurts.
This is useless. I fumble for my vibrator in my bedside table, desperate, but—fuck my life— of course the batteries are dead.
I’m this close to screaming into my pillow when I remember: I saw some batteries in the pantry.
My breasts jiggle beneath the baggy shirt as I shoot upright—no bra. My nipples are so hard they throb. I can feel the dampness of my panties as they cling to me. I need to hurry or I can forget my orgasm… again.
Cautiously I peek out the door like I’m about to pull off some heist, but it looks clear. At least, I hope it is since I promised myself I’d never step out of my room wearing just my panties ever again.
I guess Colton is in his room and Livy is asleep. Perfect. So much so that I sprint to the kitchen but as I reach for the pantry door, I hear a throat clear and I freeze with my hand on the golden handle.
Oh fuck.
Of course there’s Colton, sprawled on his couch, flicking through Netflix, searching for something to watch. Damn it. It was so quiet… why isn’t he in his room?
Well, this is his apartment, and it’s normal for someone to kick back and watch TV on their couch, especially with that massive screen out here. What isn’t normal is that I’m racing to his pantry to swipe batteries for my vibrator.
“Late-night snack?” he asks and his eyes drag over me, lingering on my naked thighs then… my boobs.
Shit. Are my nipples that pointy?
Of course they are.
I swallow hard, my pussy pulsing. “I just want some tea, I can’t sleep,” I lie, and my voice cracks. I never drink tea. Only when I’m sick.
“Tea bags are by the kettle.”
Great. “Thank you.”
So, I guess I have to make that stupid tea.
My hands are shaking, my core throbbing with every step because I can feel his gaze on me—hot and heavy—and when I dare to meet it, his eyes are dark, hungry.
I make a mental note: get dressed properly before leaving your room. No matter what time it is. Idiot. That’s when I notice he’s sprawled there in nothing but gray joggers, his chest bare, and oh my god, those abs look incredible in the faint blue light.
I swallow hard. The way he looks… it makes me wet all over again, and I press my legs together, praying away the horniness.
As the kettle hums, I lean over the kitchen counter, my eyes glued to him as he scrolls through the streaming platform.
“There’s no good movies, I fear,” he says. “I just want to watch something to get my mind off…”
“Was the training that hard?” I ask.
“No, it was fun, but you know… I tend to think a lot at night, and sometimes a movie helps.”
“True.”
“You can watch with me if you want, since you can’t sleep too.” Yeah, I can’t sleep because of you, you idiot. We’re not in the same boat.
“I saw there’s a second part of that movie we watched at your apartment.” Oh, that feels like ages ago.
“Really? I didn’t know it’s already out.”
His thumb clicks on the remote, and I can’t help but notice the way his biceps flex beneath his skin with even that small movement.
“Yeah, look.”
Yep, that’s part two.
The idea of curling up on the couch to watch the movie with him sounds exciting.
Honestly, without my vibrator, I’m pretty sure I won’t find any relief tonight anyway.
My room feels like a trap—just me, an empty bed, and a storm of lustful thoughts swirling around in my head.
And still, I know I should say no, but instead, I say, “You don’t mind? ”
“No, as long as you don’t mind that I’m too lazy to put a shirt on right now.”
“Of course not.” Please don’t. I want to stare at those shredded abs for as long as I can—even if it’s torture.
“Well, do you mind me sitting next to you in just an oversized shirt?”
He clears his throat. There’s a pause. That pause is unnaturally long… but then he says, “Nope. Not at all.”
Doesn’t actually sound like he’s thrilled I’m not putting on some pants… or a bra… but I’m too lazy to. “Okay, then start that thing.”
Once my tea is ready, I flop down on the couch and quickly wrap myself in a blanket, my thighs pressing together as I sink onto the couch.
Colton stretches out beside me, his long frame taking up most of the remaining space, close enough that I can smell his soap again.
It should feel awkward. It should feel like a line crossed.
But somehow, the boundaries seem less important than they did weeks ago.
Then it hits—my hands. I never washed them. A flicker of worry rises, sharp and unwelcome. What if there’s still that musky trace clinging to my fingers? What if the scent is stronger than I think? The urge to check creeps in, almost impossible to ignore.
I just pull the blanket up to my nose.
“Cold?” he murmurs while the movie starts.
“A little.” Liar.
“Do you want me to fetch you a warmer blanket?”
“No, no, all good. Really. I have my…tea.”
Is it bad that I’d rather have his legs curled around me than a blanket? Yep. Guilty.
And that’s how we watch the movie, and of course at some point both of us pass out. And it wouldn’t be so bad when I’ wake up early in the morning curled up against him.
The moment I realize, my eyes shoot up. I’m holding onto him, my thigh glued to his. And one of my hands grabs his chest as if I’m drowning and he’s my buoy. That’s when I feel it.
My knee brushes against his cock, making it twitch, and it’s all I need to send a jolt of heat straight to my pussy.
He’s pressed against me, his body a furnace, and I can’t take it anymore.
I rock my hips, rubbing my clit against his hard thigh, feeling his cock stir and harden against my knee.
His arm tightens around me, his hand splayed possessively on my hip, fingers digging into my flesh as if he wants to leave bruises.
I can’t tell if he’s awake or if his body is just responding to mine, and I don’t care.
I’m shameless, grinding against him like an animal in heat, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I don’t know what’s come over me, but it’s like every nerve in my body is drawn to him.
I feel the roughness of his sweatpants against my inner thigh, the firmness of his muscle beneath.
My hips move almost imperceptibly at first, a subtle rhythm that deepens as I feel the heat building between us.
The edge of my panties catches on the seam of his pocket, the slight tug making me gasp as it shifts the fabric aside.
I feel the slickness of my skin against his pants, against the hard muscles beneath, the friction sending jolts through my body.
We move and move and his dick hardens, pulse by pulse, it’s hot and heavy against my knee, his breath shallow on my neck. And then his right hand inches upward. The rough pad of his thumb finds the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh and traces it slowly.
I guess he’s wide awake too, but I don’t dare to open my eyes to check on him.
I just pretend I’m asleep. As if I’m sleep-humping him right now, I don’t care, I just can’t anymore.
I’m so horny and he’s the reason. When I lift my head, his lips meet mine, and I know he’s definitely not asleep because his tongue slides over mine with such force it takes the breath out of me.
I gasp against his mouth, and then I stop thinking about it and kiss him back, and the room goes quiet except for the sound of my own breathing.
His fingers are so close to where I need them, his touch feather-light, teasing.
“Colton—”
“Shh.” He pushes his cock against my knee. “Let me take care of you.”
And suddenly his hand is there, cupping my pussy through my soaked panties, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make me whimper.
“Fuck,” he breathes, rubbing slow circles over my clit. “You’re dripping.”
I arch, my hips grinding into his hand and my nails digging into his thigh. “More—”
He chuckles, dark and sexy, and then his fingers are inside me, curling just right, his thumb still working my clit. “This what you needed, baby?”
Yes. Yes. Fuck, YES.
I’m close, so fucking close, when he stops, pulling his hand away. I whine, grabbing his wrist to navigate it back but when I dare to open my eyes, I watch him licking his fingers, slow, obscene. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
It’s all I needed because in between of two single heartbeats, I’m on him—my mouth crushing his, his hands ripping my panties aside, his long finger pushing inside of me as I keep on humping him.
I hook my leg around him, pulling him closer until I feel the tension in his body as he presses against me.
The friction builds slowly at first, then urgently, until I have to turn my face into his shoulder to muffle the sound I make.
He doesn’t stop. A moment later I hear his breath catch sharply, and just when I come, there is warmth spreading against my knee as he finishes in his pants.
We stare at each other, still catching our breaths. Still figuring out what the fuck just happened, and what it means, and whether I’m going to survive it.
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
But before either of us can say a word there’s a sound from the living room. We both go still.
Maybe we dry humped each other for hours or it already was early morning when I woke up but anyway, Colton’s ex is standing right in front of us, holding a plate of breakfast pastries.