Chapter Thirteen
Colter
Yeah, so her chastity burrito lasted all of, I dunno, an hour.
I hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep with her so close—that coconut and pineapple scent of her filling my nose, her body warm against my arm.
So I’d been wide awake when she let out a loud grumble and flung her arms until she freed them from the blanket.
Then it was inch by inch.
First, she rolled toward me.
Then she leaned forward, her forehead pressed against my arm, her warm breath on my skin.
After that, her leg slid up, slipping between mine, her ankle hooking mine.
Little by little, she scooched closer and closer until, eventually, she had her head shoved up under my chin, her head on my chest, her hand resting over my heart, and her thigh across my waist.
My arm automatically curled around her hips, anchoring her to me. But she had no intention of moving. Once she was on top of me, she finally settled into a deeper sleep.
While I lay awake.
Desire ricocheting off every nerve ending.
I had to keep praying she didn’t wake up because my cock was hard and straining against the thin material of my pajama pants. Thanks to the way she was draped over me, she would have felt me near the juncture of her thighs if she startled awake.
The problem was, each time I got the desire under control and I passed back out again, she’d wiggle a little in her sleep, I was awake, and the process began all over again.
I was glad I got some sleep before she came into the room because once she was in the bed, I got maybe only two broken hours.
Then the sun was streaming in… and she was starting to stir.
I needed to get out from under her.
Because that wiggle of her hips as she stretched took me from semi to fully hard in a damn blink.
I felt it the moment she realized where her plan to stay cocooned on her side of the bed had failed spectacularly. Her whole body stiffened. Her breath sucked inward.
Then she very slowly tried to move, likely thinking I was still asleep and she could slip away without me ever knowing what happened.
But the second she tried to move her leg from my hip, she felt my cock press against her.
A surprised whimper escaped her.
She sucked in a slow breath, tried to move, but it only happened again.
This time, she gave in to the need and dropped down a little, rocking ever so slightly against me.
Judging by the muffled sound, she was pressing her lips together, but I knew a suppressed moan when I heard one.
This wasn’t part of my plan.
I genuinely just wanted to share the bed with her, to show her that she could be close to me without any expectations. That we could share intimacy that had nothing to do with sex.
But here we were.
Still, I kept my hands to myself.
Until she did another wiggle as her breathing went quick and shallow.
That was about all I had left of my self-control.
I reached for her hips, pulling until she moved to straddle me.
Her head whipped up, eyes round, likely feeling caught doing something she didn’t think she should.
But one buck of my hips against her had that concern slipping away, replaced by heavy-lidded need.
So I did another.
And another.
And I watched her go all soft with her need.
Her hands pressed into my chest, using it to push herself back and sit up, allowing her to bear down on me as I kept rocking up against her.
Fuck, she was gorgeous when she was open like this—unguarded, fully within herself.
And as her whimpers turned into a ragged moan that had her body shuddering, I knew it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
Before she could fully come back down and pull away from me, I whipped over, dropping her onto the mattress with a surprised gasp.
Then I was moving down her body, taking her shorts and panties with me until they were in a forgotten pile on the floor.
Then I pulled her legs over my shoulders and buried my face between her thighs.
Just the brush of my beard against her inner thighs had her trembling. But the second she felt my tongue against her, it was like a current shot through her body.
Her low, guttural moan dragged a rumbling sound from somewhere deep in my chest.
And as my tongue traced up her cleft to circle her clit, her hands slipped into my hair, holding on as I started to drive her up.
It wasn’t long before her moans were filling the room, before her hips were rocking against my tongue, before her thighs were trembling, and her muscles tightened.
She was already so close.
And I wasn’t nearly done with her yet.
But there was no stopping the orgasm that shot through her, making her cry out and arch.
Even as it was still rolling through her, I slipped my fingers inside her, groaning against her clit as her hot, wet walls tightened around them.
“Fuck,” Dylan moaned, panting for breath even as my tongue kept circling and my fingers started to thrust. “I… can’t,” she insisted.
But we both knew she could.
We both knew I wouldn’t stop until she did.
“Colter, I…” she started again.
I chose that second to twist my fingers and stroke against her top wall.
A choked moan escaped her at that.
And she went ahead and stopped trying to convince me, or herself, that she couldn’t come again.
Because within a minute or two, she was.
Her thighs clamped around the sides of my head as her walls tightened around my fingers.
The moan that escaped her was deep, primal, desperate.
When her legs released me, I lifted slightly, looking up at her, finding her head thrown back, her breath coming fast.
I didn’t know what my next move would be.
But just then, there was a knock at Dylan’s door.
She shot up and scrambled off the bed before I could even get to my feet.
“Yeah?” she called, grabbing her shorts and panties and rushing through the doorway.
“It’s Syn. Was wondering if you want me to take Sugar for a walk before we get breakfast.”
“Oh, um. Sure,” she said, and I heard her stumbling as she got back into her bottoms.
By the time I turned to look at the door, she was closing it in my face.
Alone, I sighed, listening to her talk to Syn, then gathering some clothes and taking myself into the bathroom for a shower.
I got the water running and pushed my pajama pants down my legs when I realized I wasn’t alone.
When I turned, there was Dylan. Her gaze was on me, but there was something… odd there. Whatever it was, it put me on edge.
“What’s up, babe?” I asked.
She said nothing as she took a step closer.
Then, “That wasn’t even.”
Her hand closed around my aching cock as she said it, making my breath rush out of me at the touch.
But… no.
I didn’t like that.
The look in her eye.
The hollow sound of her voice.
The meaning of her words.
It wasn’t even.
As if she had to perform just because I had.
Yeah, no.
I reached down, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her hand away.
“No,” I said when her gaze lifted up to mine.
“No?” she asked, her face going hard.
I whipped her around until her back was against my chest, both of us facing the mirror.
I reached down, pressing a hand between her thighs. She gasped, her eyes going heated.
“Until you look like this,” I said, doing a quick roll of her clit, making the heat flicker in her dark eyes, “at the thought of touching or sucking me, I don’t want it.”
With that, I took a step back and moved into the shower.
I feigned nonchalance, acting like I was completely ignoring her. But I was painfully aware of her gaze in the mirror, watching me.
Was that the reason I reached down and fisted my cock, stroking lazily as she watched? Maybe. But the little bed activities followed by her touching me but not getting relief had me physically aching for release too.
Whatever the reason, I worked myself as she stood there, watching in the mirror for a long time. Then, as my breathing got faster, as my body tensed, I could see her turning in my periphery, watching me through the quickly steaming glass.
When I came, it was hard, making me lean back into the wall because my damn legs felt a little wobbly.
My gaze sought her then.
But she was already walking out of the bathroom.
Alone, I sighed, then got back to my shower.
I could hear the water running in her bathroom when I got out, toweled off, brushed my teeth, oiled my beard, then got dressed for the day.
I was just straightening my bed when there was a knock at my door.
“I tried knocking on Dylan’s door,” Syn said. Sugar was at his side, tongue still hanging out from her walk.
“Sounds like she’s in the shower,” I said, reaching down for Sugar’s leash. “You heading down to breakfast?”
“Yeah. Figured we might as well eat here if it’s included. You guys coming? Saint wanted to talk about the plan.”
“Yeah. I’ll just wait until Dylan gets done, then we’ll head down.”
“Sounds good. We’ll grab a table.”
I closed the door and walked Sugar over to the connecting door. I was surprised she’d left it unlocked, but Sugar was glad to rush into the room and get a big drink of water out of her bowl.
“You hungry, girl?” I asked.
We hadn’t been able to bring her prepared food, since there weren’t refrigerators in the rooms. But Dylan had packed all of the dried toppers to keep her kibble interesting. So I mixed up some of the bone broth and the dried chicken and beef bits and tossed them in with her hard food.
It was right then that Dylan came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
She’d fully dressed in there, wearing skinny black jeans and a black tee. Her wet hair was held up in a claw clip. She’d even clipped on her silver hoop earrings, mascara, liner, and red lipstick.
She looked hot.
But more so than that, it looked like she was hiding behind the makeup. Like she could slip back into her detached attitude if she looked more put together.
“I threw together something for her before we go down to breakfast,” I told her, waving toward where Sugar was going to town on her food. “She doesn’t seem to miss the premade stuff much.”
“She’s a food hog, no matter what she is offered. It’s more for my peace of mind that she gets that other food. But this stuff is good too. Where are Saint and Syn?”
“Saving a table for us downstairs. You wanna test before we head down?”
Something flashed in her eyes, but she tamped it right back down as she gave me a tight nod and moved to do just that.
“What do you think they’re going to have, food-wise?”
“Hotel buffets are all kind of the same: scrambled eggs, bagels, pancakes, bacon, fruit, cereal, muffins, coffee, and orange juice. Carb-heavy at these kinds of things.”
“Breakfast tends to be kinda carb-heavy everywhere,” she said, going into her kit for her insulin and dosing it.
“Here,” I said, taking the alcohol wipe from her when she struggled with it, her shirt, and the needle. “Is this spot good?” I asked, pressing into her stomach.
“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little breathless.
I cleaned the spot, then held up her shirt so she could inject her insulin.
She cleaned up while I took Sugar’s licked-clean bowl to the bathroom to wash out with paper towels and hand soap.
It was all very… normal.
Familiar.
Easy.
Judging by the way I kept catching Dylan watching me with scrunched brows, I figured maybe she was thinking the same thing.
Good.
It was selfish of me, but I was kind of hoping this job would last at least three or four more days. Just long enough for Dylan to stop trying to trivialize what was clearly between us.
Because if it was over too fast, I had a feeling that Dylan was going to retreat to her club, shut herself in, and refuse to see me again.
That, well, I couldn’t let that be the end of this.