Chapter 8
EIGHT
Colt steps back, his eyes darkening as he takes in my naked form. I feel completely exposed, standing there in nothing but my heels while he remains fully dressed. The contrast makes me acutely aware of the power imbalance between us and how much it turns me on.
"On your knees," he commands, his voice dropping to that register that makes my insides clench.
I sink down, the floor hard against my knees. Looking up at him from this position feels right somehow, like I've finally found my place.
"If you want me to fuck you," he says, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness, "you're going to have to beg for it."
My throat goes dry at the sound of leather sliding through belt loops. "Please," I whisper.
Colt raises an eyebrow. "Please what?"
"Please fuck me." The words come out shaky, uncertain.
He laughs, low and dangerous. "That's not begging, pretty thing. You can do better than that." He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his body. "Try again. And make me believe how desperate you are."
I swallow hard, fighting the last shreds of my pride. But something about being on my knees, naked and vulnerable while he stands fully clothed above me, makes the words come easier.
"Please, Sir," I say, my voice stronger now. "I need you to fuck me. I've been thinking about it since I first saw you. I'm so empty without you."
He tilts his head, considering. "Better. But still not good enough."
Frustration and arousal tangle inside me. I'm wet, aching, desperate—exactly what he called me earlier. A needy little slut. And right now, I don't care. I just want him inside me.
"Please," I try again, my voice breaking. "I need your cock so badly. I'll do anything. I'm yours to use however you want. Please, Sir, I'm begging you."
I reach for his thigh, needing to touch him, but he catches my wrist.
"Did I say you could touch me?" His voice is sharp with warning.
"No, Sir. I'm sorry." I drop my hand immediately.
"Hands behind your back."
I comply, clasping my hands at the small of my back. The position thrusts my breasts forward, makes me feel even more exposed.
"Now," he says, his thumb tracing my lower lip, "tell me exactly what you are and what you need."
The last threads of my resistance snap. "I'm your toy," I say, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "Your filthy little slut who needs to be used. Please fuck me, Sir. Please use me, fill me up, make me yours. I need it so badly I can't think straight."
My cheeks burn with humiliation, but it's mixed with something else—relief. Relief at finally saying these things out loud, at admitting what I truly want.
Colt's eyes darken as he looks down at me. "Look at you," he murmurs. "So pretty when you beg. So honest now."
He runs his fingers through my hair, then tightens his grip, tilting my head back further. "Is this what you wanted all along? To be on your knees, begging to be fucked like the desperate little toy you are?"
"Yes," I whisper, past caring how pathetic I sound. "Yes, Sir. Please."
Colt's eyes narrow as he studies me, still on my knees before him. "If you want my cock so badly, prove it," he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes everything inside me liquefy. "Show me how much you want to worship it with that pretty mouth of yours."
My hands tremble as I reach for his belt, but he stops me with a sharp click of his tongue.
"Did I say you could use your hands?" He unzips his jeans himself, pushing them down just enough to free his cock. "Hands behind your back. Use only your mouth."
I clasp my hands behind me; the position making my back arch, my breasts thrust forward. The vulnerability of it sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
His cock stands thick and hard before me, and my mouth waters at the sight. I lean forward, maintaining eye contact as I take him between my lips. The salt-musk taste of him floods my senses as I take him deeper.
"That's it," he murmurs, one hand tangling in my hair. "Show me what a desperate little cocksucker you are."
The degradation hits me like a physical touch, making me moan around him. I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper until he hits the back of my throat.
"Look at you," he says, his voice rough with desire. "So eager to prove what a good toy you are."
I work him with everything I have—swirling my tongue, sucking harder, taking him deeper with each bob of my head. Saliva drips down my chin, but I don't care. I want to be messy for him, want to prove to him how much I need this, just like he said.
Colt's grip tightens in my hair, guiding my movements. "You were made for this," he growls. "Made to be on your knees, worshiping my cock like it's the only thing that matters."
And in this moment, it is. Nothing exists but the weight of him on my tongue, the sounds of pleasure rumbling from his chest, the ache between my legs as I get wetter with each thrust.
"Look at me," he commands.
I raise my eyes to his, still working him with my mouth. The intensity in his gaze nearly melts me.
"That's my good girl," he says, his voice a mixture of praise and possession that makes me whimper around him. "My perfect little cocksucker." He pulls himself from between my lips with an audible pop. "Tell me what you want."
"Please fuck me," I gasp. "Please use me. I need it more than I've ever needed anything."
Something flares in his eyes—satisfaction, hunger, something darker I can't name. "Good girl," he says, and those two words send a fresh wave of heat between my legs. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
He releases my hair and steps back, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. "On the bed. Hands and knees. Now."
I scramble to obey, beyond thought, beyond anything but the desperate need to please him, to be filled by him. As I position myself on the bed, I feel more exposed, more vulnerable, and more myself than I've ever been.
Colt reaches into a drawer beside the bed and pulls out a wand vibrator, its sleek black surface catching the low light. My eyes widen as he approaches with the toy in hand.
"Since you're so desperate to come," he says, turning the wand on to its lowest setting, "let's see how well you handle a little more stimulation."
He kneels on the bed behind me, one hand gripping my hip to hold me steady. The vibrator hovers near my skin, close enough that I can hear its low hum but not yet touching me. The anticipation makes me tremble.
When he finally touches the head of the vibrator to my clit, I jerk forward with a gasp. Even on the lowest setting, the sensation is overwhelming after everything my body has already experienced.
"Oh god," I whimper, my arms shaking as they struggle to support my weight.
"Too much?" Colt asks, his voice deceptively casual as he keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against me.
"I don't know if I can—" My voice breaks as pleasure builds too quickly.
"You'll take what I give you," he says, his words both a promise and a threat. "Every. Last. Bit."
The vibrator stays frustratingly low, building my arousal without giving enough to push me over. I push back against him, desperate for more, but his grip on my hip tightens in warning.
"Please," I beg, my voice barely recognizable. "I need more."
"Patience," he murmurs, positioning himself behind me. I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance, teasing but not entering. "Tell me how badly you want this cock."
"So bad," I gasp as the vibrator continues its relentless torture. "Please, I need you inside me."
He pushes in slowly, just the tip, making me whimper with frustration. "What are you, Tess? Say it."
"I'm your toy," I pant, desperate to feel him fill me completely.
"Not specific enough." He withdraws slightly, and I make a sound of pure desperation.
"I'm a slut," I admit, the word falling from my lips more easily now. "Your dirty little slut who needs to be fucked."
"That's right," he growls, finally thrusting forward in one smooth motion that fills me completely. "My filthy little cockslut who begs to be used."
The vibrator continues its steady hum against my clit as Colt begins to move, each thrust deliberate and deep. The dual sensations—the fullness of him inside me and the vibrations against my most sensitive spot—make my mind go blank with pleasure.
"You love this, don't you?" he demands, his pace increasing. "Being fucked like the dirty slut you are. Say it."
"Yes," I gasp, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "I love being your slut. I love being fucked by you."
His hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back as he pounds into me harder. "Louder. I want to hear you admit it."
"I'm a slut!" I cry out, beyond caring about anything but the mounting pleasure. "I love being your slut. I love being fucked by you!"
The vibrator suddenly increases in intensity, and I scream as the pleasure spikes sharply. Colt's rhythm becomes punishing, each thrust hitting something deep inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
"Please," I sob, teetering on the edge. "Please let me come. I'm begging you."
"Beg better," he commands, his voice strained with his own restraint.
"Please, Sir," I plead, tears streaming down my face from the intensity. "I need to come around your cock. Please, just please let me come."
His grip tightens in my hair. "Come now," he orders. "Come like the filthy little slut you are."
The permission shatters the last of my control. I explode around him, my entire body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. I scream his name, my arms giving out as I collapse onto the bed, his cock and the vibrator still working me through the most intense orgasm of my life.
When the aftershocks finally subside, I lie trembling beneath him, utterly spent. The vibrator clicks off, and Colt gently withdraws from my body.
"Thank me," he commands softly.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice raw from screaming. "Thank you, Sir."
Without warning, he flips me onto my back. His eyes are dark with hunger as he straddles my waist, his cock still hard and glistening with my arousal. He pumps himself with quick, hard strokes. His gaze locked on my face.
"You're going to wear my cum," he growls. "Like the perfect little toy you are."
I arch my back, pushing my breasts forward in offering. "Please," I whisper. "Mark me."
With a low groan, he comes, hot spurts landing across my breasts and collarbone. I watch his face as he finishes, memorizing the way his control finally breaks, if only for those few seconds.
As he looks down at me, marked and claimed, I've never felt more perfectly, completely his.