Chapter 25
Colton
Noah and I are quiet as I drive him back to his motorcycle at the Hawk Hollow access point. I keep looking over at him, but his gaze is trained out the side of the truck, his elbow propped against the doorframe and his chin in his palm.
He’s been reserved ever since we finished the treasure hunt. Not that he’s a particularly boisterous person to begin with, but I get the impression there’s something on his mind.
I don’t quite know what to make of it. Or the thoughts in my own head.
I pull off onto the gravel in front of the guard rail, careful not to hit Daphne. There’s a tug in my chest when I remember he named the bike after his mother. I know nothing about his parents, and I feel guilty for that now. I couldn’t take a minute to ask him a few questions about his life?
Noah pops the door open once I come to a stop, and I follow after him. As he brings the bike around to the back, I lower the tailgate. Since we grabbed a board from the ranch, it’s not too difficult to push the bike up into the bed of the truck. Noah sets it down carefully. Reverently.
I nearly wince seeing the evidence of his spill on the side of the red frame.
“Thanks,” Noah says, hopping down.
I nod, following him and sliding the board up before hoisting the tailgate back into place. The drive to Noah’s is just as silent as before, and I start drumming my fingers against the wheel, nerves eating at me.
It’s not quite dark when I pull into Noah’s driveway. Not like the other times I’ve come here. With the help of the board, we get the motorcycle down, and Noah stores it inside his garage, shaking his head a little like he’s disheartened to see it looking worse for wear. Once he lowers the garage door, his eyes meet mine.
“Come on,” he says, heading for the front of the house.
I stand there, my keys in hand, confusion and indecision warring.
“Colt,” Noah says. Just my name.
My feet carry me forward.
Noah stops inside the front door, kicking off his boots. I take mine off, too, feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience. The small foyer inside leads to a living room to the right, and a large doorway to the left opens into the kitchen. There’s a stairwell directly in front of us, curving up and to the right, and a narrow hallway that leads straight back.
“Walt?” Noah calls lightly.
“Back here,” Noah’s uncle says in return.
“Just getting home. You need anything?”
There’s a brief pause before Walter says, “Not a thing.”
“I’ll be upstairs,” Noah says. And that’s it. He heads up the stairs, expecting me to follow him.
I do.
My pulse is heavy as I trail Noah through his home. Although small, it’s well-loved with homey touches that speak to the life Noah has here with his uncle. I don’t know why it surprises me, the evidence of Noah’s life. As if I—what? Thought he existed inside a sterile box while plotting my demise?
I’m probably a blip on Noah’s radar. He’s likely never thought much about me. Not like I’ve thought of him.
He turns right into a bathroom, looking over his shoulder to make sure I’m still behind him. “Strip,” he says as soon as the door closes.
I stare at him, fairly certain I’m having a mild cardiac event. We don’t… do that. I’ve never even seen the man with his shirt off, let alone naked. He’s never seen me, either.
Noah lets out a sigh. Not one of disappointment but understanding. Somehow, he understands. “Colt,” he says softly, “I’d really like to get you in this shower. It’s been a long damn day, half of which I spent nestled close to your ass. If you wanna go, you can. I won’t stop you. But if you decide to stay, I’m hauling you into this shower, got it?”
I let out a breath, my stillness this time a choice.
Noah nods to himself before grabbing the hem of my shirt and wrestling it off my body. I consider fighting it, consider putting off the inevitable out of principle alone.
But, like Noah said, it’s been a long day. And I think I’m done fighting.
Noah tosses my shirt on the ground and grabs my waistband, opening my fly. My jeans follow, hitting the floor, and then my briefs meet the same fate. Noah is squatting on the ground now, looking his fill as he lifts each of my feet up to remove my clothes, my socks the last to go. I feel utterly exposed. More than naked.
Noah stands with smooth fluidity, turning on the shower before staring me in the eye and unbuttoning his pants. My cock starts to plump the second I hear the zipper, and Noah smirks, a little more life entering his eyes. He makes a production of undressing, and I hate that I can’t look away. Can’t tear my eyes off the man for a single second as he removes his pants and underwear, his socks, the bandage around his hand, and lastly, his shirt.
My breath whooshes out of me when I see the ink flowing across his chest. The rope vines across, like I’d imagined, moving from one arm, across his pecs in beautiful motion, to his other arm and down again. Flowers are intertwined with the rope the entire way, creating a colorful tapestry over his skin, that horseshoe I kept getting a peek of hooked over one loop. It’s as if it’s part of the design. Part of him, the curve of the metal right over his heart.
Noah steps ahead of me into the shower, and my gaze dips down. I about buckle as I come face to face with the man’s ass, his cheeks firm and dimpling at the sides as he moves.
Fuuuck .
My mouth feels dry as he steps under the showerhead, his hair darkening to near black, water dripping down his back in rivulets. I step in after him, and Noah turns to shut the curtain. What the fuck am I even doing here? What is this? Why do I want it so much?
Noah tugs me forward, no hesitation in the man. He maneuvers me under the spray, his fingers sinking into my hair as he tips my head back an inch, the water drenching me. He hums, seeming so pleased by something so simple.
I’m afraid to open my mouth. Afraid, if I do, I’ll fuck this up. Afraid he’ll stop. Afraid that I don’t want him to stop.
Noah’s hand wrapping around my cock is an immense relief. It’s what I’m used to from him. What I expect. He gives me a couple slow, slippery strokes before stepping in closer. It takes me a second to realize he’s grabbing his soap, not moving in to kiss me, and the disappointment that hits is unwelcome.
But then Noah is squeezing soap out onto his palm, and the man’s hands are back on my skin.
“You look like a scared kitten,” Noah remarks, his voice low but still startling following our silence.
I don’t have a single comeback, and Noah raises a brow. How he expects me to speak with his palms running slow circles across my chest and shoulders is beyond me.
“Have I broken you?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Never.”
“Good,” he rumbles, reaching around to rub soapy palms over my back, the move slotting us neatly together. “I much prefer you alive and kicking.”
“That’s a surprise,” I manage, trying to keep the groan from my voice as his hip moves against my cock. “Didn’t think you liked when I kick.”
He huffs a laugh, his palms smoothing down toward my ass. “On the contrary. I like the fight in you, little Colt.”
“Yeah?” I breathe, my brain going haywire as his fingers slip, testingly slow, down between my ass cheeks. “Why’s that? You like the challenge?”
My hands are on his waist now, holding steady, my pulse a fast cadence in my ears beside the noise from the shower.
Noah hums, his palms so fucking big as he covers my ass, his fingers continuing to tease, dipping just inside my crack. “I like that moment you give in,” he practically whispers. “When you stop fighting yourself.”
His words make me freeze, but then all thoughts scatter as Noah’s fingers rub purposefully over my hole. They stay there a moment before slipping down and cupping me, fingertips close to my balls. He holds me, pressed so close it feels like a hug.
“You want me to stop,” he says, “you say so.”
I shake my head the tiniest bit, not wanting him to stop. He can’t. Not now. I’ll fucking punch him if he does.
He must catch the movement of my head, because he makes a sound of smug approval and slides his hand back up again. This time, when his fingers rub over my hole, I nearly fall against him. I use his body as support, keeping my face hidden, practically shaking with the way I want those fingers inside of me. I threw out that damn carrot, not caring in the least for the impersonal and cold quality of it. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to buy a toy. All I’ve had are my fingers, and somehow, I just know Noah’s will be better.
Warmer. More fulfilling. Just… more .
And his cock?
Ah, fuck .
“Little Colt,” Noah breathes, his hand in my hair holding tight as he circles my rim, seemingly content to torture me as always. “Do you know what it’s like to feel you shaking in my arms?”
“Fuck off,” I try to mumble. The fact that my lips are pressed to his shoulder makes the words come out muffled.
He huffs, his fingertip pressing against me the tiniest bit. Oh fuck, oh fuck.
“It makes me feel powerful,” he says, retreating and then slipping the tip of his finger back in place, his aim clear. “The control you give me…” He cuts off, pressing inside of me, only just. I let out a keen, pushing back against that digit, beyond caring what I look or sound like right now. Noah groans before finishing with, “I never want to give it up.”
I can barely follow along, all of my focus on the finger edged inside my ass. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
Noah slips away, his hand sliding upwards. I rear back in outrage, but his fingers in my hair soothe, rubbing against my scalp like a gentle massage.
“Calm, little Colt,” he says with that infuriating smirk. “Finish washing up, and I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
“I don’t need you,” I say weakly, the response automatic.
Noah’s smile quirks as he hands me the soap, setting to work on his body now. “Want,” he amends, the motion of his hands hypnotizing.
I can’t even find it in me to argue.
It feels unbearably intimate washing alongside Noah, letting my eyes wander, taking him in in all his naked glory. I hate to admit the sight is one I appreciate, but what’s the point in pretending otherwise anymore? I’m standing here of my own free will, aren’t I? Sharing a shower with the man.
Noah finishes before me, stepping out and grabbing a towel. He dries his hair first, leaving his ass uncovered, the ink along his arms flexing with his movements. I take a quick moment while he’s rebandaging his hand to slip a finger inside my ass, washing myself perfunctorily before shutting off the water.
Noah grabs a second towel for me, holding it out, his cock bobbing as he takes me in without shame. I pluck the towel from his hand, hiding the blush on my face.
He waits until the towel is around my waist to open the door. I scoop up my clothes and follow him across the hall into what must be his bedroom, feeling like a damn teenager sneaking around. Although it’s not like the barn was much better.
He shuts and locks the door behind us, flicking on a floor lamp before walking back my way.
My pulse is thrumming, electricity licking over every inch of my skin.
Noah lets his towel drop and tugs me closer by my own. “On your knees,” he says, not a request.
My cock fills so rapidly, it leaves me lightheaded. “Make me,” I spit out, unable not to.
He wings up a brow before grabbing my shoulder and pressing down. Instinct has me shoving his arm away, but he anticipates the move, grabbing the back of my neck in a tight hold. I arch toward him, my towel falling, my cock rubbing briefly against his before Noah is shoving the heel of his foot behind my knee.
I go down in an instant, my knees hitting the plush towels, Noah’s cock in my direct line of sight as he straightens out, a challenging look on his face like he’s waiting for my next move.
“Now,” he says evenly, “are you going to stay there, or do I needa hold you down?”
Ah, fuck .
My eyes slip shut, and Noah’s fingers thread through my hair. “Fucking gorgeous,” he says. “Open your mouth.”
My eyes open, breath ragged as I stare down Noah’s cock. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this. Don’t even know where to start.
Noah grabs the base of his dick, one hand still in my hair as he guides me closer, his cockhead tapping my lips. I grab onto his wrist near my head, holding tight, not pushing away.
“Open, little Colt,” he urges. “Lemme take what I want from your mouth.”
Somehow, that makes it easier. The demand in his voice. Knowing I can let him lead. I don’t know what it says about me that I want him to, but I open my mouth and wait.
Noah takes his time, running his cock agonizingly slowly over my bottom lip. His own lips are parted, brown eyes dark, that coppery blaze like flames licking into the night.
“Smack my thigh if it’s too much,” he warns.
I don’t move an inch.
Noah slides his cock onto my tongue, and I have to hold back my groan. “I was right,” he says, smug. “You look good down there.”
He doesn’t let me off his dick to fire off a retort, and even that has my cock bucking.
“Christ,” he says, hips flexing, the smooth glide of his cock through my lips making me dizzy. “My cock looks right at home inside you. Just imagine what it’ll look like in your ass.”
I can’t stop my moan this time. I just can’t.
Noah grins, his thumb running over my cheek before his fist is back in my hair, tugging me down on his dick.
“Ask me for it, little Colt. If you want it, ask.”
He pulls me back, his cock popping wetly from between my lips. “No,” I breathe.
He hums, sliding himself back into my mouth, punching his hips a few times, his dick grazing the back of my throat and making me gag.
“Beg me,” he says.
“Fuck you.”
His grip tightens, the sting bringing tears to my eyes. My own cock leaks onto the towel below my knees, Noah’s taste on my tongue overriding all other senses. He tastes and smells woodsy, like the soap in his shower.
“Beg me to fill your tight virgin ass with my cock, little Colt. Say the words, and it’s yours.”
Tears roll down my cheeks, whether from Noah’s grip in my hair, the blowjob, or the fact that I know I’m going to ask for it like he wants. I knew weeks ago I’d do whatever Noah needed to get him to fuck me. To find out, once and for all, what it feels like to be full of the man, overwhelmed and overloaded, consumed in a way I never have been before.
All he needs is the words. He needs my consent. That’s it.
“Please,” I breathe when Noah pulls back.
“Please what?” he asks gently, rubbing a tear away with his thumb.
I kiss the head of his cock, my eyes slipping closed. “Please fuck me.”
“Colt, baby,” he says, his voice so quiet I’m not sure I’m meant to hear it. “Anything.”