15 | Burnin’ supper 🔥🔥🔥
CLEMENTINE
I never learn, do I?
I’m in enemy territory—my own aunt’s kitchen, for crying out loud—but Colt moves around like he owns it. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows and he’s armed with a spatula, commanding the skillet like he’s done so every day of his life.
Knowing Mama, he probably has.
I pretend to help, leaning against the counter and handing him things when he asks for them. It’s more an excuse to watch him, though—watch the way his broad shoulders shift under his shirt, the easy efficiency in his movements, the curve of his mouth when he tastes something and nods to himself.
I catch him slicing cherry tomatoes and scooping out the seeds with a teaspoon. “That’s funny,” I mutter, more to myself than to him. “I do that too.”
His eyes flick up, catching mine. “I know.”
I blink. “You know?”
“You did it years back,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal, though his voice is warm with memory. “Mama had you helpin’ in the kitchen and you scooped every last seed out, like you couldn’t stand the sight of ’em.” His lips curve, wicked and fond at once. “Guess I never forgot.”
Something hot and reckless twists in my stomach.
He remembers. That tiny, inconsequential detail—me as a teen, just cooking with Mama—and he still remembers after all these years.
“Here,” he says, breaking the moment before I can drown in it. He pushes a cutting board in front of me, sets a knife down. “You can slice these.”
I awkwardly pick up the knife and start slicing. Salad is the only thing I know how to make, but somehow I manage to squash not one, but two tomatoes trying to slice them.
“Lord, Clem.” He chuckles low in his chest and steps in behind me. His hand covers mine, guiding the knife. His chest brushes my shoulders, warm and solid, and I suddenly forget all about what I’m doing.
“Like this,” he murmurs against my hair, rough and somehow still gentle.
He cages me against the counter, his other hand steadying the tomato while his body presses into mine.
The knife moves smoothly under his guidance, but all I can feel is the heat of him at my back, the strength in his grip, the way his breath heats my crown.
I swallow hard. My pulse trips. “I—I’ve got it, Colton.”
“Mhm.” His nose skims my temple, lips grazing just close enough to make me shiver. “Ain’t lookin’ like it, darlin’.”
I drop the knife. His laugh rumbles low, and before I know it, his hand is splayed over my stomach, drawing me back tight against him. I can feel everything—his size, his hunger, the steady restraint he’s barely holding onto.
“Colt,” I whisper, warning and wanting tangled together. My knuckles go white on the counter as he grinds against me again, slow, just to prove he’s in control. A shiver bolts through me, leaving me weak, and I finally twist in his arms.
His mouth crashes onto mine like he’s been starving for it—like we didn’t just get our fix this morning. Or maybe it’s because we did.
I clutch at his shirt, tugging him closer, but he’s already pressing me into the counter, his thigh wedging between mine. Heat floods me, pulsing low, and I can’t stop the whimper that escapes.
“That’s it,” he growls against my lips, his hand sliding up under my shirt, rough palm on my bare skin. “You feel it too, right?”
I don’t even try to deny it. My hips roll against his thigh, chasing friction, all reservations tossed aside by the promise of him.
But then he stills, his breath ragged, forehead pressed to mine. “You said this morning was a one-time thing.” His thumb brushes my bottom lip, voice low and dangerous. “You sure this is what you want, Tiny?”
My chest heaves, my pulse thundering in my ears. “I’m only here for a few weeks.” My voice cracks, but I force it out. “No need to deny ourselves some casual sex, right? Let’s just… make the most of this summer.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite forming a smile. “I’ll take it.”
He hoists me onto the counter, stepping between my knees like he’s staking a claim. My fists bunch in his shirt—ready to rip it open again—but he beats me to it, yanking it over his head in one smooth pull. “Ain’t got time for more buttons, Tiny. Already got enough sewin’ to do.”
My shirt’s gone next, bra tossed God knows where, and then his chest is pressed to mine, his mouth claiming me. He drags me closer by the hips, tongue sweeping mine, and I cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in the room.
My breasts flatten against his pecks as he claims my mouth, sliding me even closer. His palms are rough against my skin, possessive.
“Colton—”
“I know, Tiny—good lord.” His hand dives under my waistband, no teasing, no mercy, just straight to the slick proof of how bad I want this. His fingers stroke my clit once, and I jolt against him, head snapping back.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he growls, hot against my throat. “Knew you’d be wet for me. You can stop denying it to yourself, girl—I’ve got you.”
My hips buck helplessly against his hand, shame and hunger tangling until I can’t breathe.
“Say it,” he presses, nipping my ear, his voice dark and low. “Say you’re mine for the summer.”
“I—” The word shatters into a broken moan as he thrusts two fingers deep, curling just right.
“C’mon, Tiny,” he groans, pumping into me, his other hand gripping the back of my neck like he owns me. “That city girl bullshit don’t matter here—nothin’ does. Just me and you, got it?”
“Mhm,” I choke out, falling apart already.
I guess it’s good enough—with a guttural curse, he drags me off the counter, ripping my shorts and panties down.
He lifts me again, and my legs wrap around his waist as he spins and slams me into the wall.
I barely catch a breath before he’s pushing his jeans down, the thick head of his cock nudging my entrance as he slowly lowers me.
He drags his length through my slickness, coating himself in my arousal, before pushing his crown into me.
He presses an open-mouthed kiss to my jaw. “Deep breath, baby.”
I don’t even know if I do—but any air is knocked from my lungs when Colton drives himself into my throbbing core in one solid stroke.
The shock punches a cry out of me, my nails raking down his back as I vie for control.
“Fuck, Tiny,” he groans, forehead pressed to mine, grinding in deep like he’s trying to brand me from the inside out. “So tight I can’t think straight.”
Every thrust pins me harder to the wall, my body jolting each time.
“Colton—”
“You like that?” he groans. “Tell me.”
“Yes—God, yes.”
“Mhm. Knew it.” He kisses me again, slow and dirty this time, like he’s savoring the way I fall apart for him. “Ain’t nothin’ casual ‘bout how good I’m gonna make you feel, Tiny. I’m gonna make you come so hard you forget every reason you got for leavin’.”
Every roll of his hips has me moaning, nails digging into his shoulders, the wall biting into my back.
His pace builds, relentless but tuned to me, each thrust angled just right.
“Say my name again,” he orders, thrusting hard enough to rattle the frames behind me. “Say it when you come.” His thumb finds my clit again, and I shatter with his name on my tongue, clenching around him.
“That’s my girl,” he breathes against my mouth, kissing me through it.
I’m still pulsing around him when he leans back to look at me. “Ain’t near done with you yet, Tiny. You hold on, now.”
I think I can’t take any more, but he keeps at it, relentless, hips pounding into mine. His breath grows ragged, his forehead pressed to mine, eyes blazing.
“Feel that?” he groans, his rhythm faltering just enough to let me know he’s close. “Ain’t nobody else gets this, Tiny. Nobody. Just you.”
The way he says it—like he’s staking his whole soul in me—tips me right back into another climax, messy and unexpected. I gasp his name again, clinging to him like he might keep me together.
He curses low, hips slamming once, twice, before he buries himself deep and shudders, spilling hot inside me. His growl vibrates against my chest, his whole body tight, every muscle locked as he pours into me.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing and the faint hiss of the forgotten skillet on the stove.
Finally, he presses his mouth to mine—slower this time, gentler, but no less claiming. “Told you,” he murmurs, still inside me, holding me up against the wall like I weigh nothing. “I’m gonna spend this whole damn summer makin’ you feel like that.”
He slowly lowers me down, and steadies me until my knees stop buckling.
We stand there for a minute, chest-to-chest, catching our breath. I can feel him watching me when we clean up and get dressed, his gaze burning into my skin.
Colton flips the burner off and holds up the blackened chicken in the skillet. “Reckon we’ll need to figure us somethin’ else for supper, baby.”
I don’t answer. My phone buzzes on the counter and all my attention snaps to it. I lift a finger to my lips—shh—and press the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Daddy.”
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What'd you think of that? ?? And what do you think Daddy is calling about? ??