Chapter 17 Colt
Colt
Stella.
Fuck.
Stella.
My thoughts are reduced to single-word caveman grunts as I watch her on her knees.
She leans down and sucks my tip into her mouth, the hot, wet sensation sends lightning up my spine.
She’s baiting me, and it’s working. I pull her back and tilt her head to look at me. “Open your mouth,” I all but growl.
That smirk. This is exactly what she wants: me feral. She does as I say, and when the head of my cock has cleared her teeth, I push in until it hits the back of her throat.
She gags, causing her muscles to squeeze my tip in a way that makes me breathless. I pull out slightly, only to push back in, causing the same reaction to occur.
Her eyes begin to water, but the defiance in them remains. She isn’t going to pull away from me.
“You want me to fuck your smart mouth, is that it?” I wrap all of her hair up in one fist, pulling slightly. With my other hand, I reach down and wipe a tear from her cheek. “It’s a yes or no question, Stella,” I grit out.
“Mhhm,” she affirms, the vibrations from her vocal cords almost sending me over the edge.
“Fuck,” I groan, finally allowing myself to drop all pretenses of control.
“Tap my leg if you want me to stop.” It’s the only warning I give her before I push my dick as far as it will go into her mouth.
I pull out and slam in again. Over and over, I pound into the back of her throat, relishing in the way it constricts around me.
The feel of her soft moans causes me to grow hard as granite.
“Touch yourself,” I command. My thoughts are hazed by lust, I don’t even register the words until they’re out of my mouth. “Show me how much you want me.”
I’ve never let myself fully indulge in the basic urges of my sexuality.
The need to dominate, to be in control. I’ve never been submissive in the bedroom, but I have always been polite.
I was raised to respect women, and, in my adolescent mind, that meant tender caresses and soft kisses.
As I got older, I got bolder, but never more assertive.
I slept around, and random hook-ups didn’t feel like the place to explore what I liked and didn’t like.
Somehow, though, Stella knows what I want. That, or this is her kink, and she’s finally opening up to me. The idea that she’s putting herself entirely at my mercy makes my head spin.
She reaches down and begins to rub her clit. Her moans come more frequently, and I fuck her mouth like it’s what she was made for.
She slips a finger into her pussy and pulls it back out, showing me the glistening moisture that coats it.
I grab her wrist and pull her arm as high as she can reach. Bending down to close the distance, I suck the finger into my mouth, relishing the taste of her.
Unable to take it anymore, I pull out of her mouth and yank her to her feet. I press my mouth to hers in an assault of a kiss, pushing her back toward the bed. When her legs hit the edge, I flip her around and press her upper body down so that her face is in the mattress.
After I finish removing my jeans, I grab a condom from the nightstand.
I step forward and rub my cock between the cheeks of her ass.
Leaning forward, draping my body over hers, I whisper in her ear, “What is it about this you like, Stella? Do you like being told what to do? Or do you just like it rough?”
Her groan is muffled by the bed, so I lift her head by her hair and ask her again.
She hesitates before saying what she’s thinking, obviously trying to decide how much she trusts me to understand.
“You’re always in control, always patient.
You may not think so, but I can see it. You haven’t let yourself lose control since the first day we met.
You regretted that night with Summer and have been holding back on me ever since.
But I heard you, with her. You may have been blacked out, but you were demanding.
The sex we’ve had, it’s good but…I don’t think it’s what you want, deep down.
With me, you can have what you want. We can have the kink talk later, but for now… Now, I just want you to fuck me. Hard.”
I’m stunned into silence, looking into her emerald eyes, searching for a hint of hesitation and finding none.
Stella lets a small smirk tip up the corner of her lips, puffy from before. “What? You going to chicken out now?”
I huff out an unbelieving laugh, and reality catches back up to me. Before I second-guess myself, I push her head back down to the bed and stand up straight.
“Brat,” I say, running both hands over her ass and squeezing hard enough to leave ten little fingertip-shaped bruises. God, I love her ass.
I line myself up with her entrance and push in without preamble, burying myself to the hilt.
“Fuck,” she groans into the bed, fisting the blankets.
She’s dripping, more turned on from what we did before than I would have imagined. I slide in and out of her, our bodies making the most indecent sounds.
She moans again when I brush a finger over her swollen clit. “I want to hear you, Stella.”
She pushes up on her forearms, causing her back to arch deliciously. “But what about Beau –”
“Beau is probably passed out, but even if he’s not, I don’t care if he hears.”
I reach up and tweak one of her hard nipples, all while still rubbing her clit with my other hand and hammering into her. Her moans are breathy and addictive.
The force from my body causes her to be pushed up farther on the bed, so I get on my knees behind her, no longer able to stand, and continue pounding into her pussy with a strength I didn’t know I possessed.
I rub her clit with a little more pressure, and I feel her shatter beneath me, around me. Her orgasm wracks through her entire body, and I hold her up with an arm around her waist.
I continue my rhythm, unable to think about anything but her, the feel of her. I bring one hand to my mouth and coat the end of my thumb with saliva. When I press it to her back entrance, she lets out a gasp of shock and then groans in pleasure, the muscles of her pussy tightening around me again.
“Has anyone ever touched you here, before?” I ask, voice gravelly, already knowing the answer. She shakes her head in response.
“Don’t worry, we won’t do that tonight. But I think you’d like it.” I press my thumb down, increasing the pressure but not penetrating.
“Please, don’t stop,” she gets out, unable to catch her breath.
“You’re going to come, again, aren’t you? So soon? You like the idea of me fucking you there?” I speed up my thrusts, and the circles I trace over her clit combined with the pressure of my thumb is enough to bring her back to the brink.
“Colt—” Whatever she was going to say is cut off by another orgasm, this one causing her to clamp down around my cock like a vise.
I throw my head back and follow her over, my own orgasm pulling a guttural groan from my throat. I don’t know how long it lasts, but I pound into her until neither of us is able to hold up our bodies.
Pulling out, I collapse onto the bed beside her, breathing as if I just ran ten miles.
That was, without a doubt, the best sex I’ve ever had.
Stella squirms in my arms the next morning, letting me know she’s awake.
“Colt, let me out, or I’m going to pee in your bed,” she threatens, shoving at my chest.
I laugh and release my hold on her. When she comes back, she climbs back in next to me like she never left.
“What time’s your game tonight?” she asks, head resting on my chest.
“Starts at seven.”
We lie in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she timidly asks, “Do you want to talk about last night?”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I return.
“I mean, we should.”
“Yeah, I know. What would you like me to say?” I ask cautiously.
“I just want you to tell me what you’re thinking…how you feel,” she states.
I turn on my side so that I’m facing her, needing to see her eyes for this conversation.
“I feel like it was the best sex I’ve ever had. Not because we did anything earth-shattering, but because I felt seen. I think you’re much more observant than I thought. You surprised me.” She bites her bottom lip, contemplating.
Before she says anything, I continue. “I’m sorry, though, for that night with Summer. You were right, I do regret it. I made a lot of mistakes that night, and I’m not a fan of making mistakes.”
“I hate that you have regrets, but you should know that I don’t need an apology. Without your ‘mistake’, we would’ve never met. And, yes, while hearing people have sex is an awkward experience—by the way, I did put on headphones and try not to listen—hearing the way you talked to her really…”
“Turned you on?” I ask, grinning.
She huffs out a defeated sigh. “Yeah. It did. I tried so hard to make myself hate you because I hated the way I felt listening to you. I felt like, after everything I went through, I should not be turned on by some over-confident, commanding asshole.”
I snicker, not at all offended by her words. But the rest of what she says strikes me right in the chest. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“You don’t think it’s sick? Getting off on being used when the thing I hate most in the world is when men use women for their own benefit?”
I contemplate how best to respond, not having expected this conversation to get so heavy.
“I don’t think you get off on being used, Stella.
Last night, you were pushing me to let go of my control, and I think it’s because you liked the idea of me losing my head for you.
You didn’t want me to treat you like an object.
You just wanted me to quit being…reserved.
You were in control, Stella, even when you were making me lose mine. That’s what I think you get off on.
“Things with your ex, with your dad, with that prick from that party, you couldn’t control the situation. You’re right; men are unpredictable. I think hearing me that night, it wasn’t my demands that turned you on, but it was because I communicated what I wanted and what I was going to do.”
She’s silent for such a long time that I begin to wonder if I’ve missed the mark entirely. I’ve had a lot of therapy, but that doesn’t make me an expert in the human mind by any means.
“I’m not really…bossy in bed,” she says hesitantly, making me laugh.
“No, I don’t think you are. But I think you know that I would do anything you wanted me to do.
” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“You like that I’m predictable, dependable.
And I’m wrapped around your finger, Stella.
You liked driving me crazy because it proved that I trusted you and you trusted me.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I have no idea what’s going on in your pretty little head. But I don’t think so.”
“What about you? Are you some closeted ‘daddy dom’? Chains and whips excite you?”
I fake a gag and look at her sternly. “Don’t ever say that again.”
She laughs, finally letting go of the apprehension and anxiety she’s been carrying all morning.
“No,” I emphasize, “chains and whips do not excite me.” She doesn’t say anything as she waits for me to continue.
“I’ve never thought too much into it, truthfully.
I guess it’s why I love hockey so much. The fast pace, the head rush, the adrenaline, the aggression.
Everywhere else, I have to be calm. Any time I lose my head, someone’s asking if I’ve been taking my medicine.
If I get a bad grade, people are asking if everything’s okay.
I have to keep up this pretense of control, and it’s exhausting.
“Even before my dad died, I was a hothead. He’d talk to me, tell me everything would be okay, and then he’d blame himself for my behavior, like he thought he failed as a parent and that I would have behaved better if my mother had been there to help him.
“When I got older, I learned to cool off. I hated that he thought he wasn’t good enough just because of the way I acted.
But it was just the way I was wired. I never did anything out of malice toward him or angst after losing my mom.
I just loved a good rush. I loved a good fight.
I was a big fan of chaos. But I knew I needed to tone it down when it became clear that I was hurting the people I loved. ”
“So, you just…like to be rough?” she asks.
I shrug noncommittally. “I like whatever you’ll give me, Stella.”
“I meant what I said last night. I’m willing to hear you out, whatever you want to try. I’ve never…experimented before.”
I pull her to my chest and plant a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, I think I want to go slow. We’ll worry about the dating thing first. The rest will come when the time is right.”
She sighs contently and nods in agreement. Then her stomach rumbles loud enough to wake the dead, and I bark out a laugh.
“Come on, let’s see if Beau’s awake and wants to cook breakfast.”