Chapter 13 #2
She rocks against my hand in a rhythm that’s entirely hers—unpracticed, desperate, perfect. Her head falls back against my shoulder, and the sound she makes is half-moan, half-sigh, all surrender.
“You’re so wet,” I tell her, because I can’t not say it. Because the feel of her around my fingers is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. “So fucking perfect for me.”
Her hips stutter. “Colt—”
I curl my fingers inside her, pressing up, rubbing against the front walls and her whole body tightens like a bowstring.
She gasps, a sharp, broken sound that gets swallowed by the shower spray. Her hand comes up to grip my forearm, nails digging in just enough to make my blood roar.
“That’s it,” I urge, my thumb working faster now, matching the frantic roll of her hips. “Don’t hold back. I want every sound. I want to know I’m the one who gets to hear you like this.”
Her breath hitches, then releases in a soft, shuddering cry as she comes apart against my hand. I feel the clench, the tremor, the way she goes boneless against me like every fibre holding her up just got cut.
I hold her through it, my mouth pressed to her shoulder, whispering nonsense against her skin. “Good girl. So beautiful. Fuck, Zoey.”
When her breathing finally starts to even out, she tilts her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes are hazy, satisfied, and a little bit smug.
“Show-off,” she murmurs, but there’s a smile in her voice.
I laugh, low and husky. “You have no idea. I’m just getting started.”
I turn off the water and wrap her in the biggest towel I own. I dry her off like she's precious, because she fucking is, patting her shoulders, her arms, kneeling to dry her legs, pressing a kiss to her knee.
Then I take her hand again and lead her to the bedroom, positive I'm going to make this the best night she's ever had.
Because that's what happens when you're ignored your whole life. You learn to battle. You learn to make yourself seen, the way I always have.
Except now, there's only one person I want to see me.
The sheets are cool when I lay her down, and she watches me with those dark caramel eyes as I cross to my phone and pull up a light, sensual playlist that's way too cheesy.
I turn the volume up when she raises an eyebrow.
"Setting the mood?" she says, still clutching the towel.
"Just making things a little louder." I set the phone on the nightstand and climb onto the bed beside her, pushing her thighs apart with my palms. "So if you want to let go, sweetheart… I'll barely hear you."
Understanding flickers across her face. I'm giving her permission to be herself. To do what she needs to get that release that's been holding her back for too damn long.
I settle between her legs, kissing the inside of her thigh, dragging my lips across her skin until I can feel her pulse against my mouth.
And then… I feast.
I drag my tongue through her folds in one long, slow stroke that makes her back arch off the mattress. She tastes incredible. Like heat and salt, and a sweetness I'll never get bored of.
I’m instantly hooked. Addicted.
My whole body tightens with a possessive, greedy need.
This isn’t just good. This is perfect. This is her.
And I want to drown in it.
I groan against her pussy like a man who's been starving for exactly this.
"Fuck, Zo." My voice vibrates against her clit. "You taste so goddamn perfect."
I lick her slow, deep, savoring every single taste. I circle her clit with the flat of my tongue, then flick, and suck, finding the rhythm that makes her thighs shake against my ears.
"Oh—" Her hand finds my hair and she grips. "Oh, Colt… yes."
There she is.
"That's my girl." I slide two fingers inside her, curling them deep while my tongue works her clit. "Let me hear you, baby. You sound so fucking beautiful."
She moans louder. The music covers it a little, but I hear every note. Every gasp, every whimper, every desperate sound she forgot she could make.
I worship her through the first orgasm, then keep going. I don't stop. I don't slow down. I devour her like she's the only meal I'll ever need, licking and sucking and praising her until the sounds she's making aren't quiet anymore.
They're loud.
Full-bodied, gut-deep moans that match the way she's grinding her soaked core against my face. She arches and rocks against my mouth, taking what she needs. I talk her through it, filthy and soft and everything in between.
"Come for me again, baby. I know you've got one more. Oh yes, there it is."
"Ohhhhh, COLT!"
She comes so hard her entire body locks up, a scream tearing from her throat that cuts clean through the music, through the walls, through every silent year she's endured.
I work her through every last wave, gentling my tongue, kissing her softly until she finally goes boneless beneath me.
When I look up, there are tears on her cheeks.
But she's smiling.
"Holy shit," she whispers, and it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
I crawl up her body, letting my chest brush against hers, feeling her heart still hammering against my ribs. I settle beside her on the cool sheets, taking in the view.
Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glazed and a little red-rimmed, but she’s smiling. Actually smiling. It’s a fucking masterpiece.
“How was that?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She turns her head to look at me, her expression equal parts wonder and disbelief. “I just… I didn’t know I could still do that.”
“Do what?” I brush a strand of hair from her forehead. “Come that hard? Or be that loud?”
“Both,” she admits, her laugh turning into a soft, embarrassed groan. She covers her face with her hands. “Oh my god. The entire building just heard me, didn't they?”
I gently pry her hands away, lacing my fingers with hers against the pillow. “Let ‘em hear. Let the whole damn town know Zoey Morrison is having the best sex of her life.”
She shakes her head, but she’s still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m thorough.” I lean in and kiss her shoulder. “And I’m not done. That was just the warm-up act.”
She shifts, rolling onto her side to face me. Her hand comes up to trace the line of my jaw, her touch feather-light over the faded bruise.
“Now I think you're just showing off.”
“For you?” I catch her hand and press a kiss to her palm. “Always. Haven't you worked out yet that it’s my new favorite hobby.”
Her expression softens, the last of the tears making her eyes shine. “I mean it, Colt. I… forgot what that felt like. To just… let go. It was good!”
I pull her closer, until our legs are tangled together.
“You never have to be quiet with me, Zo. Not ever.” I kiss the top of her head. “In fact, I’m putting in a formal request for more of those screams. I’m a big fan.”
She laughs against my chest, the vibration a sweet, perfect thing. “You would be.”
“Damn right.” I run my hand down the smooth curve of her spine, resting it on the swell of her perfectly round ass. “So. Now that we’ve established you’re a fucking demon in bed when properly motivated… ready for the encore?”
She tilts her head back to look up at me. “You think you can top that?”
I slide my hand lower, cupping her pussy.
“Sweetheart,” I murmur, my lips against hers. “I haven’t even gotten started.”
I slide back between her thighs and dip my head. I eat her out again, and when she shatters a third time, I crawl up her body and slide my cock sliding against her soaked heat.
I set a punishing rhythm, watching every flicker of pleasure on her face.
It's crazy good.
We move together perfectly and the whole time I can’t look away. Not when I roll her beneath me, not when she rides me, not when I finally spill deep inside her with a groan against her throat.
Afterward, she curls into my side, tracing the unfinished tattoo on my ass when she finally falls asleep. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, one hand stroking her hair, the other on her hip.
She keeps twitching in my sheets, like her body has finally, truly relaxed.
And then it hits me.
I've never done this before.
Never held someone through the night. I've never wanted to.
Every woman before her was a good time, a great review, and a cab called before sunrise. I never stayed. And I never let anyone stay here.
My mask has always been on. Even naked, even in the dark.
But Zoey mumbles something in her sleep, sounds like "cardamom", and presses closer as her hand drifts across my chest until her palm settles right over my heartbeat.
And I know.
She's mine.
She's mine. And I'm hers. And nothing has ever felt this right.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it without disturbing her.
Delaney: Launch party 'surprises' confirmed for Saturday. Don't let me down, Lane.
I look at Zoey sleeping in my arms. At the woman whose dreams are written in a notebook I've memorized cover to cover.
I set the phone down and pull her closer.
I've got this.