15. Annie
Chapter 15
Annie
I ’d been avoiding all three of them.
Cole still had my number from when I’d messaged him about my bag back, and his texts to me over the last week had been left on read. Xavi had come into Smokey’s two days ago, and I ducked into the back like a coward, watching the camera feeds until he left. Colton, bless him, had followed me on my socials and sent me a voice note that I couldn’t bring myself to listen to, even though the preview read, “You okay, sweetheart?” and it had haunted me ever since.
I wasn’t avoiding them because I didn’t want to see them. That was the whole problem — I wanted to, wanted to so badly that it freaked me out.
But Elliot had made everything so much worse.
His attempts to contact me had been almost nonstop. I’d picked up the first few times, responded occasionally, but he’d spiral so fast that I had to hang up. He’d left voicemails, called me, sent texts that twisted from apologetic to manipulative in a heartbeat.
I just want to talk this out, Ans.
You owe this to me.
Who the fuck even are you now?
You realize how much of a bitch you’re being?
I’d blocked him, but he’d use a different number. I’d block that one too, but it wouldn’t stop it. It was like trying to outrun a shadow I hadn’t realized had grown teeth.
The phone buzzed again on my nightstand as I stood beside my bed in my towel, the midafternoon light pouring through the blind-covered window behind me.
Unknown Number : What am I gonna have to do to get through to you?
I slapped it face down on the nightstand, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t know what kind of fucked-up, insane situation I had found myself in, but I needed out. I needed a reprieve, a distraction.
I needed something light, easy, with a smile and a dimple and a smart-ass mouth.
Fumbling with the zipper, I tore open my backpack and pulled Elliot’s folder out, the three napkins falling out into my hand. One from Cole, no number, that he’d done first before writing me my own with his phone number on it. One from Xavi, no number.
And one from Colton. Messy and scribbled with his number. God, I hadn’t even noticed it before, but he’d included a stupid little winking face on it, too. No wonder Elliot had gotten so angry.
When he’d done it, I’d rolled my eyes. But now, I clung to the stupid scrap like a lifeline.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I ignored the next buzz of an incoming text and typed Colton’s number in, hitting call . This was stupid, absolutely stupid — I hadn’t even checked if they had a game tonight, had no idea if he’d be on the ice right now at practice or within reaching distance of his phone at all. My pulse skyrocketed the moment it started to ring.
Once.
Twice.
Three—
“‘Bout time you called, sweetheart.”
I blinked, trying to process that. “Wait—how—how did you know it was me?”
Colton’s laugh leaked down the call, a little low and smug like he’d been desperately waiting to drop that stupid line, and the sound of it already had my cheeks warming. “Might’ve stolen your number out of Cole’s phone. I figured you’d cave eventually.”
“You what ?” I tried my best to sound offended, but my act was so terrible it just immediately morphed into slightly shaken laughter.
“Oh come on, Annie, did you really think I wouldn’t do that?” He chuckled. “He left it out in the open and I wanted to know it was you when you finally plucked up the courage to call me. What was I supposed to do?”
I sat down on my bed, my laughter slowly dying out, and I realized I didn’t actually know what I wanted to say. I’d acted before I’d had a plan.
His voice was a little softer when he spoke again. “You all right, sweetheart?”
His words cut straight through whatever facade I was trying to don. My throat closed immediately, and I forced my head back, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to open it again. “I…” I winced as the single word came out a little choked.
“Annie?” Colton pressed, his voice a little more urgent, a little more alert.
“I don’t know,” I croaked. “Are you busy?”
The sound of something shifting on his end of the call leaked through, coupled with a grunt. “Nope. Just stretching. Already had practice this morning. You want me to come get you?”
My knee bounced on the mattress, uncertainty clouding my thoughts. Part of me wanted to get out of this tiny apartment, but part of me wanted to fill it with the kind of energy only he could bring. “Can you just come over?”
His hesitation was loud .
He didn’t respond right away, but his breath huffed once, and the sound of jangling keys came through the phone. “Yeah,” he said finally, the chirpy tone in his voice a little dulled, but not in a defeated way. Just… surprised. “Have you eaten? I can swing by somewhere and get us some food.”
I swallowed. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Let me. You like Chipotle?”
I leaned forward, resting my head in my hand, my throat closing in. “Yeah,” I croaked.
“Text me your address and your order,” he said, the sound of a heavy door slamming carrying through the call. “I’ll be there before you can change your mind. Hope you don’t mind the sight of me in sweatpants.”
I choked on a half-hearted laugh. “I won’t,” I promised. “Just, uh, park anywhere but out front. Just in case.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.”
————
Colton sat across from my spot on the uncomfortable little chair I normally wrote music in, his grey sweatpants and blue Fire hoodie disguising most of his built body as he hunched over my coffee table, his fork digging into his burrito bowl, his ass planted firmly on my couch. The scent of tex-mex filled the air, and I peeled back the foil on my burrito, my stomach growling but my body too worked up to really feel it. The weight of Elliot’s onslaught made sure of that.
“You’re quiet,” he said softly, leaning forward a bit to shovel a massive forkful of meat, guacamole, and cheese into his mouth. Little tufts of hair fell into his face, a little too short to be held back by his ponytail, and tucked them behind his ears as he chewed, holding my gaze. “What’s got you so worked up that you cracked and called me? I’m all ears.”
It was weird to see him here, in my space. All six-foot-whatever of him, his sharp jaw, the hint of a dimple as he chewed, his blue eyes studying me so hard that I was worried they’d see anything they wanted to beneath the surface. I’d checked his stats online — he was a year younger than me, but he didn’t seem it. Maybe it was all the rough-housing on the ice, but he looked a little older, even if he acted like a frat boy half the time.
“Annie,” he rasped, almost exasperated, as he set his fork down. “You can’t just keep staring at me and your burrito. You’ve at least gotta eat, sweetheart.”
He reached into the paper bag and pulled out an extra little pot of sour cream, pushing it across the coffee table toward me.
“You waiting for this? Almost forgot.”
I huffed out a breathy little chuckle, the sound feeling hollow, and popped the plastic lid off. “No, that’s… that’s not it,” I sighed. Shifting slightly in my seat, I slipped my phone out of my pocket, noting the five extra notifications since I’d last checked it. I knew I needed to show someone, needed to at least get it out in the open, but there was still a worry nagging at me that I was overreacting even though I knew damn well that I wasn’t. “Look.”
I flipped my phone around in my hand and held it out to him.
Hesitantly, he took it from my hand, his fingers brushing against the backs of mine as they slipped it from my grasp. He dug his fork back into his bowl, ready to shovel another bite, but paused as he read. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned the screen, his expression darkening with every message he read. “Elliot?”
I nodded once, the motion tight, and forced myself to take a bite of my burrito.
“He’s really not taking the fuckin’ hint, is he?” Colton’s jaw ticked as the sound of another incoming message played out.
“Yeah, he… he’s not,” I swallowed. “I don’t know how to get rid of him. He won’t stop. Every time I block him, he just messages me from a new number. It’s exhausting.”
He set my phone down on his knee, his fingers drumming on the table for a moment in irritation. “You don’t deserve that,” he grunted, setting his fork down. “None of that. That’s fuckin’ insane. Makes me want to rewind the clock and let Xavi beat the shit out of him. You shouldn’t be having to deal with this, Annie, and definitely not alone.”
He met my gaze, piercing and intense, and my stomach—no, my heart —did a stupid little flip. There was something comforting in his words despite the threat of violence, something comforting in the way he looked at me like I truly mattered to him. Like I wasn’t just some girl caught up in a mess that he was helping out. “I just need a break,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
He sucked his teeth as he passed the phone back to me. “You should come with us to the next away game,” he urged, his voice low but insistent. “Get out of here for a bit. Away from everything.”
I stared at him for a moment, my stomach churning, the thought of taking another bite after that offer only making the nausea worse. “I… I don’t know, Colton.”
“It’ll be a chance to breathe. We’ll make sure you have a good time.” He lifted the bowl from the table, bringing it closer to his mouth, and shoveled more food onto his fork. “You wouldn’t have to deal with this shit for a bit at least.”
He sounded so sure, so positive that it would be good for me, and a part of me wanted to say yes — the same part of me that was exhausted and just wanted to run. But my mind drifted back to what had happened last week at that party with Cole, the kiss that had lingered on my mouth for days, the tension I was positive it was going to create between us all. Surely he wouldn’t want me to come with if he knew.
I set my barely unwrapped burrito down on the paper on the table, watching him intently as he chewed. “I kissed Cole,” I said warily.
Colton’s expression faltered for a moment, something akin to surprise flickering across his features as he looked down at his half-eaten food. He didn’t look angry or upset, just taken back, and he shifted a little uncomfortably on the couch, an awkwardness I’d never seen on him coming out. “Yeah. I know.”
What?
I swallowed, staring at him, my mouth parted in surprise. He knew. He knew, and he was still here, still offering me that. “I… what ? You knew?”
“He told me about it the moment I came back in from following you,” he said around a mouthful, his hand flicking out in emphasis as if it was completely casual, his body relaxing just a smidgen. “Is that relevant?”
“I don’t understand,” I murmured, shaking my head, my pulse pounding beneath my skin. The words came out before I could think them through. “You… Am I just really dense? Are you not interested in me?”
He chuckled lightly and set his bowl back down. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it. I am. I like you. A hell of a lot, actually,” he said, his voice a little softer, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I stared at him, my heart beating hard in my chest. “But I’m not gonna be jealous of my friends, if that’s what you were worried about. We’re all adults here, Annie, and you can make your own decisions. I just want you to be happy. Want them to be happy. It’s not that complicated.”
That wasn’t the answer I was expecting at all.
There was something so honest about the way he said it, the ease that rippled off him like it was so intensely casual. Like fights weren’t fought on the school playground over this kind of thing, like wars weren’t started because of it, like the story of Helen of Troy wasn’t one that held weight.
I swallowed hard, unsure of what on earth to say to that, but before I could even find a single word to let slip past my teeth, Colton gave me a small, reassuring smile.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m genuinely not that bothered by it,” he said gently. “I’m not in a rush with you. I’m not going to pressure you into anything.”
I chewed on my lip, mulling over his words. “You’re really not mad?”
He leaned back on the couch, stretching his legs out, putting one arm over the back of it. “Come here, Annie,” he huffed, a half-hearted, goofy little grin pulling his cheeks apart, that dimple popping back out. “Come sit with me.”
I didn’t know why I didn’t have to fully think about it. My body was up and out of that chair in a millisecond, my pajama shorts riding just a little high on my thighs as I sat down beside him sideways, facing him on the sofa. I readjusted my oversized t-shirt out of habit, curling my legs up until they were criss-crossed, my hair still a little damp from the shower.
But he beamed at me like I was the picture of perfection right now.
“Listen,” he said, the hand around the back of the couch shifting just a little near my head before a tickle pricked at my scalp, a few strands of my hair wrapped around his shifting fingers. My breath hitched. “Do I want you to like me back? Absolutely. But I’m not the kind of guy who gets possessive just because someone I’m into likes someone else, too. Especially not when they’re my friends. I genuinely just want you to be happy, sweetheart.”
I swallowed as he leaned a little closer, not crowding me in the slightest, but he moved in like he had a secret to tell me.
“And if that’s with me, then hell yeah,” he grinned, his voice a little lower. “But if it’s not, I’ll live. Probably. I’ll just drown my sorrows in badly made mixed drinks and hockey stats.”
He continued to spin a single lock of my hair around his fingers as his other hand moved into my space, wrapping around the back of my palm on top of my knee. My pulse picked up further, his warmth invading my senses on the soft, sensitive skin of my inner lower thigh, his fingers just barely brushing against it. But it grounded me, too, more than I was expecting. Made me feel like maybe I wasn’t standing in the middle of a tropical storm with the wind battering me from all sides.
“I…” My voice was barely louder than a breath as I searched for the right words to say. “I just don’t know where my head is at with all this. With any of you.”
His thumb rubbed across the back of my knuckles slowly, softly, and all I could do was stare at it, watch the way my skin moved beneath it. “That’s okay, Annie.”
“I don’t even know which one of you I…” I trailed off, cringing at myself. “God, that sounds awful.”
He shook his head, the short little strands dislodging from behind his ears. “Not to me.” His fingers abandoned my hair, one bent one coming up instead under my chin and nudging my head up gently. I met his gaze, finding a hint of calm in it, and tried to let it wash over me. “You’re figuring things out. You’re allowed to do that.”
All I could do was look up at him, my heart in my fucking throat, trying to catch my breath around the ache and uncertainty of whatever the hell all of this was. “I just feel like I have to choose,” I breathed.
His other thumb dragged across my chin, his gaze a little sterner, his eyelids dropping just a hair as he watched me closely. “Not today,” he murmured. “Just… be here. Be present. Eat your damn burrito. Hang out with me. No pressure, no choices.”
My pulse hammered violently in my ears from the way he was looking at me, and it took every bit of self-control I possessed to not do something utterly stupid.
“And for what it’s worth, sweetheart,” he continued, his thumb moving a little higher, brushing against the bottom swell of my lower lip, “I don’t mind sharing if you begged to be with all three of us.”
I don’t mind sharing if you begged to be with all three of us. Dear god, had I heard him right? Surely not. Surely he didn’t mean that.
My eyes blew wide, the possibility of that settling over me, the places I’d let my mind drift to over the last few days swarming back in like wildfire. Heat warmed my skin everywhere , and I could tell he noticed, could see it in the way his lips quirked up in that stupid little smirk he loved to wear, could feel it in the way his hold on my chin grew just a little bit tighter.
“You’ve thought about that before,” he said, his voice low like a goddamn purr as he leaned a little closer, his body starting to invade my space. It wasn’t a question. “So have I.”
I didn’t breathe for a second. I couldn’t . His words lit a fire in my chest and burned it all the way down to the space between my thighs, like striking a match far too close to dry kindling. I blinked up at him, my heart thudding so hard I was positive he could hear it, and still, still , I didn’t pull away.
I leaned into him instead.
Not enough to reach him, but enough to make it clear what I wanted right then. He wanted me to be present, and god dammit, I was being present. My lips parted just a little, my free hand wrapping around his wrist, my fingers curling tight, anchoring him to me as my lips just barely brushed against his. Just enough to feel the heat radiating off him, just enough to feel his breath across my skin, just enough to know that I absolutely wanted more.
He held still. He let me.
He gave me the choice here of taking it or not, and oh my god, I was going to take it.
I kissed him.
Mouths touching, just softly at first, testing. Tasting. Like dipping my toes into water I already knew I’d end up drowning in. But then he broke it for a second, catching his breath. My fingers released his wrist as he trailed his hand along my jaw and back behind my ear, sinking into my hair, and he moved toward me, all hesitation and tentativeness out the window.
The next kiss was pure want and need.
He met me halfway, kissing me back like he’d been holding it back for days, like he’d been waiting for me to make that move just so he could meet it with everything he had — and I was positive that was exactly what he’d done. My back hit the cushions behind me and he followed, pressing me down, all warmth and muscle and momentum. His other hand left my hand on my thigh and he used it to brace himself against the arm of the sofa.
The kiss turned desperate fast. Teeth grazing, tongues clashing, his thumb brushing the space beneath my ear like he was trying to memorize it. I shifted my knees, giving him space to settle in between them, gasping at the sensation of the warmth of his rigid body covering more and more of me, heat tangling low in my gut and pooling in the space between my thighs. He kissed like he played — reckless, confident, all-in. And I kissed him back like I was afraid he might disappear, even though my mind screamed at me to run.
But that was the kicker. We were in my space. I had nowhere to run to.
And maybe that was exactly the push I needed.
I let my hands drift down the front of his hoodie, eager, willing, wanting to feel more of him. I found the bottom of it and sunk my hands beneath it, finding nothing but the smooth, tight skin of his lower stomach. He grunted against my lips before shifting his mouth, kissing my cheek, my jaw, moving lower to my neck, making my head spin.
My hands surged higher, over the lines of his abs, feeling each one bare beneath my fingertips. I knew he was built, but my god, I’d never felt something that strong in my life.
“Christ,” he rasped against my throat, releasing his hold on the side of my head and shifting slightly. He reached behind his neck, grabbed a fistful of his hoodie, and yanked, pulling it up and off of him in one quick movement, his hair tie catching in the action and slipping free. Overgrown, shoulder-length black hair fell around his face and neck as he loomed over me.
Holy fuck.
The muscle on him was like something carved by the goddamn ancient Greeks. He was all sharp lines and hard-earned strength. Defined pecs, shoulders like a statue’s, and that deep cut between them that led down to abs that were completely unfair . His biceps flexed with the smallest movement, thick and corded, veins trailing down like a roadmap I suddenly wanted to trace with my mouth.
I tried not to stare. But I was absolutely staring. And of course, he noticed.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, smug as sin as he dipped his head, his mouth touching mine so lightly I could barely consider it a kiss. “Keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna start thinking you want a hell of a lot more.”
My chest rose and fell rapidly beneath him, my hands flat against his bare chest, my gaze desperately trying to focus on his but struggling with him so close. “What if I do?” I breathed.
He hummed his absolute delight at my response, his teeth grazing my lower lip. “Then I’ll happily oblige. But I should warn you,” he rasped, his hand coming back around the nape of my neck, his grip a little harder than before as he forced my head to tilt back a little, “I’m not exactly known for being gentle.”
That set me on fire like nothing else. “Shit, yes, okay,” I said, the words coming out as a damn whimper .
His mouth dipped lower, leaving a heated trail of open-mouthed kisses down the front of my throat, his touch too much and just right all at once. “Please tell me you have a bed in this apartment, Annie, or I swear to god, I’ll fuck you on the hardwood,” he muttered, and I nearly lost my mind.
I could barely think straight with the way his mouth was moving against my skin, could barely grasp what was happening here, but I didn’t want to stop. “Yeah, I-I do,” I croaked.
His hold on the back of my neck tightened a little more, his elbow finding purchase in the cushion to his right, and he finally let go of the arm of the couch and grabbed my waist instead. Warmth seeped through my oversized shirt as his hand dragged down my clothed side, his touch firm, and my breath caught in my throat the moment he ventured lower than the hem of my pajama shorts.
Strong fingers dug into the flesh of my thigh, squeezing, kneading the flesh there, his hand nearly big enough to cover half of it. They ran up and down the side and back, dipping beneath the hem, ghosting over the spot where the swell of my rear met my thigh, and my breathing stuttered, my head swimming from the sensation.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he chuckled darkly, his breath fanning out across my collarbones. “Are you nervous, sweetheart? Is that why you’re not venturing anywhere other than my stomach?”
I blinked rapidly, my gaze trained on the ceiling from how he was holding my head in place. “Overwhelmed is a better word for it,” I said, the words barely more than a breath. But I took the hint for what it was — a request for me to explore.
And explore I did.
I let my fingers roam across his abs the way I had before, feeling every dip and swell, before coming up over his pecs, across his traps, brushing gently over his shoulders and down to the bulge of his biceps. God. He shivered as my hands moved, a soft groan reverberating against my throat as it seeped out of his mouth.
His hand fisted the bottom of my shorts in an instant, pulling on the soft fabric until it slowly started to give way, moving over the swell of my ass until it was free from being locked under my weight. He lifted his lower body as if it weighed nothing, pushing my legs together as he dragged the shorts lower, lower, lower, down over my knees and ankles and feet until they were gone, his hand encouraging my thighs apart?—
My cheeks heated as I felt him pause above me.
“Christ,” he rasped. “You could have warned me that you weren’t wearing?—”
“Shut the fuck up, Colton,” I laughed breathlessly.
His chuckle followed him as he kissed his way back up my throat. “Never,” he murmured, crashing his lips against mine again in a quick, desperate kiss before pulling back. He released his hold on the back of my neck and snaked his arm between the cushions and my back, bracing himself with one hand on the arm of the sofa again, and hauled us both up in one quick movement, my arms wrapping around his neck as if they somehow knew the drill already. He held me up like I weighed nothing, catching his balance as he stood with ease.
“My burrito?—”
“Will still be there when I’m done with you,” he laughed. His other arm came up under the shelf of my bare ass, urging me to wrap my dangling legs around his waist.
My body moved for him before I could even think about it, the heat of my center pressing directly against his lower stomach, and I shivered at the contact, at the hint of friction, at the way I knew for damn sure that I wasn’t exactly dry after the way he’d been touching me.
He started walking toward the only other door off the living room, his breath hot on my ear. His shoulder dipped a little as he adjusted me higher, his fingers tightening around the curve of my waist. “You always this wet when I’m around?” he teased, his teeth nipping at my earlobe as he spun, pushing the ajar door open with his back.
My face burned, and I buried it in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne. He smelled of spices, deep and earthy, with a hint of sweetness I couldn’t quite place — the scent alone had my head spinning. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You like it, though, sweetheart,” he said.
I let my fingers play with the strands of his hair as he stepped across the small space between the door and my bed. Self-consciousness gnawed at me for not making the bed, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop me or make me think twice. I wasn’t sure anything was at this point. Not with him in my space, not with him walking into my life like he belonged in it, like he wasn’t second-guessing a single second of this. Like this was the only logical next step.
He didn’t bother to untangle himself from my limbs. No, he was on me like a bloodhound, kneeling on the floor to bring himself closer to my height. His mouth met mine more urgently than ever, devouring me like his life depended on it, his hands slipping beneath the loose cotton of my shirt and dragging along my waist, my back, my ribs. He groaned as his fingers ghosted the lower swells of my breasts, finding them bereft of a bra.
“You look so goddamn cute in just a shirt that I’ve got half a mind to let you keep this on,” he mumbled against my lips, trailing his fingertips back down my sides so lightly it made me shiver. “But fuck, I want to see all of you so badly. Off .”
He pulled the fabric up in an instant, his hands pushing against my arms a little less than gently, forcing them to dislodge from his body so he could pull it over my head.
And then I was naked. Utterly and completely bare in front of him.
He pulled back just enough to let his half-lidded eyes wander, drinking me in as if I was anywhere near as impressive as he was.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the sound tight in his throat.
It was like everything changed within a second.
His breaths came a little quicker as his mouth found my skin again, trailing kisses along my collarbone, my upper chest, the higher swell of my breast. He moved quickly, insistently, one hand shifting beneath me and curling around the back of my thigh, the other cupping my breast like it had every right to be there. An electric shock rippled down my spine as his tongue and his thumb found both of my nipples at the exact same time.
A choked little sound pulled from my throat, my gaze locked on the way he was touching me, the way his thumb brushed back and forth, the way his eyes flicked up to mine as his mouth opened just enough for me to see his tongue lashing against my nipple.
More. I needed more.
And he could fucking tell.
Before I could even wrap my mind around what he was doing, he pushed my thigh up toward my chest, coaxing my back to lower onto the mattress. His other hand dragged down along the planes of my stomach, over my hip, down the top of my other thigh and back up on the inside like he was mapping my body, learning every part where his touch made me tremble. He pressed a single kiss to the spot where my stomach met my pubic mound, and my muscles tightened in anticipation, my breathing stuttering.
He moved down over my recently waxed skin, his mouth close enough to feel his breath across my damp heat, just hovering .
“You don’t have to?—”
“Shut up and let me make you feel good, Annie.”
He latched onto me like lightning, quick and explosive, his tongue finding my clit in goddamn record time. My back arched instinctively, a moan ripping from my lungs, and I dug the back of my head into the sheets, one hand pushing into his hair to keep him locked in place and the other shielding my flushing face as if he couldn’t already see it.
“My god, you taste like sin,” he groaned, his voice muffled, his fingers digging in under my thigh as he pushed my other one back, too, opening me up entirely for him.
Each stroke of his tongue was firm and purposeful, drawing out sounds from me that I wasn’t used to making. I dared to look down at him, and I damn near tore his hair out from surprise as I found him staring directly up at me, the smallest curl in his lip visible, that fucking dimple poking into his cheek like he had every right to have his head between my thighs.
I could already feel myself building from just this. He devoured me like a man starved of food, like someone who had spent years training for this instead of hockey. His fingers dug in harder on the backs of my thighs, not quite bruising but enough that I could feel their insistence, and I nearly cracked the moment his teeth grazed my clit like a warning .
His hand dragged down my thigh, his nails raking across my skin leaving little reddened trails as his mouth shifted, his teeth sinking down on the soft flesh of my upper thigh, his thumb taking over the job his tongue had left behind as he sucked at my skin. Is he leaving a fucking hickey?
His mouth released my skin with a pop , a pretty little bruise already forming, and oh my god, why was that hot?
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he murmured against my skin, his fingers teasing my entrance in a way that left me practically gasping, his eyes flashing with something dark and mischievous. “How big was Elliot?”
How the hell did he expect me to answer him coherently when he was touching me like that?
I swallowed, my breath coming in short, quick gasps, my head tipping back the second I felt the unmistakable stretch of two of his fingers slipping just an inch inside of me. “I… He…”
“Aww, are words a little difficult for you right now?” He pressed a kiss just above where his thumb circled my clit, his breath fanning across my heated skin. “Do you need me to ask you again?”
“Average,” I answered through clenched teeth, my release beginning to coil in my gut. “Maybe just below average, fuck, Colton?—”
His laugh filled the space, cutting me off, and I hit new heights as his thumb abandoned me and his mouth took over, his fingers finally slipping all the way in, curling forward like he knew exactly where to touch me, exactly what I goddamn wanted.
My fingers gripped his hair like a lifeline as my body tensed, my muscles coiled tight, my release teetering, and the second he sucked my clit between his teeth and lashed it with his tongue, I broke.
A sharp cry tore from me as my release hit me like a tsunami, crashing over me and dragging me out to sea, drowning me in wave after wave of pleasure and bliss.
“Fuck, that’s it, Annie,” he mumbled, the vibration of his lips only making things so much better.
He tore his mouth from me and stood, his fingers still buried inside, coaxing me through wave after wave. He towered over me, leaning forward over the bed, one hand coming out to brace himself beside my head, his lips and chin damp.
“Touch me.” It wasn’t a request. “See what you’ve done to me.”
My shaking hands went straight for the little strings of his sweatpants, but I could see the tent beneath the grey fabric, could see the little wet patch from his precum, and my heart pounded in my chest. I fumbled with the strings, my head so clouded from my release that I couldn’t quite undo the little knot, and I pushed instead, forcing them down, watching as every goddamn inch of him was revealed.
His cock sprung free at the same time another finger slid into me, driving me further into madness. I could barely take in the sight of him — long, rigid, dripping , veiny and thick, the tip swollen and red, shaved to short little black hairs at the base. I pushed his sweatpants down further with my toes instead, watching the way the absurd muscles in his thighs tightened as I wrapped my hand around him.
Or at least, tried to.
My middle finger couldn't even touch my thumb.
“Oh my fucking god, you’re going to tear me in half,” I whined, and his laughter boomed out again, his legs shifting as he stepped out of his sweatpants. His knee settled on the bed beside me, my thigh hooked around it, his fingers spreading just a little inside of me to stretch me out.
“Maybe a little bit.”
He slipped himself free from me, little strings of my release coating and connecting his fingers, and brought them straight up to his mouth . His tongue darted out, dragging through it, tasting, savoring, and I nearly salivated at the sight alone before the tip of his cock pressed insistently at my entrance, making my breath catch and my eyes roll back.
“Next time, Annie,” he drawled, closing in on me, leaning further down, his damp hand wrapping around my jaw and cheeks to get me to look at him, “you’re going to taste yourself.”
The words weren’t lost on me. It was a promise that this wouldn’t be the only time he’d touch me, and at that exact moment, I was fully on board with that.
His mouth met mine as the tip of him pressed in further, drawing out a gasped whimper that he drank in, the stretch of my body bordering on painful but not quite enough to make me not want it. “Relax,” he murmured against my lips, his hand releasing me and trailing down my front. He slipped his fingers between my folds, swirling little circles around my overly sensitive clit, pulling more and more sound from me as he pushed in a little further, giving me a few seconds between inches to adjust to his size, my muscles relaxing bit by bit. “That’s it, sweetheart. You can handle it.”
His words set my skin on fire.
I must have relaxed, must have let him in, because the invasion of him became easier and faster. He sunk in a few more inches, his moan leaking into my mouth, his hand fisting in the sheet beside my head. Before I could even catch my breath, his hips went flush against me, the impossibility of him managing to fit no longer even a question. “Christ, you feel like heaven.” His words were breathy, but I could hear the gravel beneath them, could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to give me time to adapt.
I took in a shaky breath, my body coiled tight, my walls squeezing around him like a vice with each little circle he drew over my clit. “Please,” I begged, needing more, needing him , needing this. I couldn’t think, could barely make myself breathe, and I tried to shift my hips a little beneath him to give him the green light.
He took it and ran with it.
A sharp cry cut through the room from my lips when he began to move. The drag of his thick length against my sensitive walls as he withdrew almost completely had me seeing stars, left me feeling empty and aching and dying to be filled again, but he didn’t let it last long — no, he slammed back in with a force so strong that my headboard banging against the wall. Every rigid inch of him felt like it was splitting me open, like he was molding me to fit him and him alone, like he was trying to lay claim despite his insistence that he was more than okay sharing me.
“Colton,” I gasped out, my hands moving to his neck, pushing into his hair, desperate for something, anything to ground myself with. I felt like I was about to be launched into goddamn orbit. “Oh my god?—”
His laughter rang out again, his forehead dropping to mine. “Aww, what is it, sweetheart?” His voice was teasing, almost sadistic, as he abandoned my clit for a fraction of a second to push my thigh higher before returning to his ministrations. He moved relentlessly, slamming into me again, again, again , deeper and harder. “Is it a bit too much for you? Or is it— fuck —too good?”
“Both,” I whimpered, pushing up just a little, bringing my mouth to his neck. I kissed his skin, desperate for anything to hold back the sounds I couldn’t stop myself from making. He growled his approval, dropping a little more onto his elbow, letting me lower back down while keeping himself within reaching distance of my mouth. He cupped the back of my head with his hand, his fingers knotting in my hair, pulling just enough to show me that he was in control here.
His other knee shoved up on the bed as each thrust drove me back further and further, hitting new angles, bottoming out with some of his length still visible, and oh my god, oh my god, oh my god . I could already feel another release threatening to overwhelm me. He was too much, too good, too intense.
“Fuck, yes, Annie.” He wrenched my head back by my hair, dislodging me from his throat, and kissed me like his life depended on it.
His hips moved faster. Harder. Right at the angle that brought out the most sounds.
His fingers kept their pace.
His lips ravaged mine.
“Come around my cock.”
I couldn’t hold it back.
My orgasm hit me abruptly, my muscles convulsing , my cries almost inhuman, my nails digging into his skin. He laughed breathlessly into my mouth at the force of it, the way my walls clamped down so hard that it nearly forced him out, the way my breathing stopped and started, the way I practically sobbed from the force of it all. “God, look at you,” he rasped, burying himself all the way in the moment he finally could, chasing his own release now. “Taking this like you were fucking made for it.”
But I was so blissed out, so far above the clouds, that almost nothing made sense anymore in the best possible way.
“Fuck, I’m close,” he grunted, his hips stuttering, his kisses growing sloppy as he shifted them to my cheek and chin. “Are you—? Can I?—?”
But I was still catching my breath, still trying to bring myself back down to earth, and I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was asking.
“Annie,” he growled, slamming into me harder, angrier. “Answer me.”
I snapped back into myself. Birth control. That’s what he was asking about. “Yes,” I rasped. “Pill.”
It was as if I’d said the magic words.
He drove into me one last agonizing time, moaning my fucking name , his breath barely more than a wheeze as he spilled himself inside of me so intensely I could feel the heat of it.
I almost complained as he immediately released me, as he withdrew entirely, as his warmth left me so suddenly I didn’t know what was happening. But then he raised up, a little pretty hickey on his neck that I barely remembered putting there, the roots of his hair damp with sweat and his muscles tight, and I could see exactly where his eyes were trained.
Warmth leaked out of me, slipping down the curve of my ass, starting to pool on the purple comforter.
With a growl I almost considered cute, he bent at the waist, bringing his mouth right back down on my clit.
“Jesus, Colton,” I murmured. “That’s… that’s?—”
He cut me off by shifting forward, his mouth crashing into mine, hot and open and downright indecent. I didn’t know what had come over us both, but I let him, let the flavor of it invade my senses, shared it with him. A little salty, a little sweet, and a little bit of the taste of his mouth.
He kissed me long enough that it turned from heated to languid. Every part of him softened from his cock to his muscles to his touch, and slowly but surely, he lowered himself to the mattress beside me, finally breaking it to pull me into the side of his chest, his back flat on the comforter.
“Dammit, Annie,” he murmured, his voice like gravel as his palm splayed across my spine, broad and warm, his fingertips tracing lazy little circles. The space between my thighs felt empty without him in it, my body humming, his little breaths against the top of my head only amplifying it. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”
I blinked, lifting my head just enough to look up at him. His eyes were on the ceiling, but there was a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. A real one. Not a cocky smirk like usual.
Something in my chest twisted. “You’re going to give me whiplash going from rough to sweet like that.” I chuckled lightly, trying to keep myself from focusing on the storm that was beginning to rage in my head, but my voice was a little hoarse.
His grin deepened, his eyes fluttering down to meet mine. “That was barely rough . I went easy on you.” His other hand came up to my cheek, his touch featherlight as he pushed a stray strand of hair back behind my ear, his fingers lingering for just a second before they trailed down the column of my neck. He settled them right at the base, his hand a loose C-shape, his thumb on one side and his fingers on the other — not a hint of pressure or squeezing, but a warning. “There are so many things I could have done with you, sweetheart. So many.”
His pupils blew wide as he watched me lay there, my breathing a little shallow, just letting him hold me like that.
“There’s always next time,” he smirked, that little dimple popping back out as he let his hand fall away. So annoyingly charming and infuriating in the same breath.
I should have felt satisfied from this, should have felt like I’d made a choice, like I’d gotten what I wanted, but watching him study me made my heart stumble.
I could still see the way Cole had looked at me right before he kissed me. I could still feel Xavi’s hands on my cheeks as he whispered to me, low and kind, to take deep breaths and calm down.
My cheek pressed back to Colton’s chest, his heartbeat steady against my ears, his body warm against mine, his arm around me like I belonged there. But I couldn’t stop the guilt that crawled up my spine.
Could they genuinely be okay with sharing me? Did I truly want that?
And more importantly, what did that make me?