THIRTY-TWO
BLAIR
The very idea that I’d made Colt think his sexuality was something I had an issue with gutted me. He’s a grown man, definitely, but at that moment, he’d seemed like a crushed little boy.
I slide off his lap with a grin. Most of his cum had slipped out of me at this point, thanks to gravity, but I still couldn’t get the image of Colt cleaning me up with his tongue out of my mind. It was an incredibly hot mental picture.
“How do you want me?”
“On the edge of the bed,” he replies quickly, eyes alight and no traces of his shame left, thankfully. He slips down to the floor, waiting for me to scoot into position, hitching my legs over his shoulders and making me fall back onto my hands.
“Jesus, you’re impatient,” I grumble as though I’m not equally needy.
“I just had a minor panic attack over the thought of you wanting nothing to do with me,” he jokes, but it breaks my heart a little bit anyway. “Of course I’m excited.”
“Colt—”
“Nope. Pussy now. Talk later.”
I’d argue, but his tongue laps against my thighs, cleaning up the mess there before moving closer to where I need him.
He doesn’t start with teasing kisses that purposefully miss their mark like he usually does.
Instead, he dives right in, his thumbs holding me open for his tongue to plunge deep. We moan at the same time.
“Still some of me in you,” he says, so quiet I’m not sure I was meant to hear it, but it’s still so strangely hot.
I whimper, snatching a pillow off the bed and shoving it behind my back so I can lie down further, not trusting my arms to keep me up at this rate.
“Oh my god, Colt.” My fingers find his hair as his lips wrap around my clit and two of his fingers slip inside me. I can’t tell if he’s crooking them to find my G-spot or trying to dig more of his cum out, but it’s erotic either way.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Blair,” he chokes out. I watch the muscle of his other arm move and realize he’s jacking himself off while he eats me out.
“If you’re going to come again, I want it inside me,” I barely manage.
He moans, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with his tongue again.
“Let me get you close first,” he mumbles against me.
Coming quickly isn’t Colt’s problem, and he isn’t bad at sex in the slightest. He’s incredible at it. Selfless and passionate with a filthy mouth, large in all the right places and perfectly pierced.
The problem was that we were almost too compatible, I think. If sex would be like this for the rest of our lives, we might just end up setting a new record for the number of children a couple can have and wind up with a reality TV show or something.
“Close,” I whimper, pushing his head away so I can reposition myself onto my hands and knees.
He’s not gentle when he pushes back inside of me, but I don’t want him to be.
My front half lowers onto the pillow I’d been using to prop up my back a moment ago, hiding my face against it.
His piercings roll over my G-spot over and over again and I don’t know why we ever even tried to have sex in a different position because this one is clearly the best one.
“Don’t hide your sounds from me,” he demands, wrapping his hand around my hair and tugging hard enough I know he means business. The zip of pain in my scalp sends me over the edge, my eyes rolling back as I come apart around him.
He grunts, letting go of my hair to grab my hips tighter, speeding up until he stills with his pelvis pressed hard against my butt, unloading inside me again.
“Jesus, fuck,” he mumbles, hands slipping around to the bottom swell of my stomach as he presses kisses along my spine, making me shiver. “You’re so fucking sexy. I’m so addicted to you.”
“Ditto,” I pant out in response as my mind runs with a thousand new things I want to research about my latest findings.
The high of last night’s truly incredible sex lasts approximately ten hours, until Colt’s phone wakes me up the next morning, which is odd because Colt left for work a few hours ago.
I don’t mean to be nosy. I mean to simply mute the phone or turn it off so I can roll back over and go back to sleep, but the text message on the screen catches my eye.
Melissa
See you at noon.
Who in the absolute hell is Melissa?
And why is she texting my boyfriend’s phone at five in the morning, making plans to see him on his lunch break?
The lunch break he told me he was working through today.
Hot rage fills me, replacing the exhaustion. I’m used to not being wanted, to being slotted into families I don’t belong in, but Colton Whittaker has another thing coming if he thinks he’s going to push me out of this one. I belong with him, and whoever this Melissa woman is definitely does not .
I pull on a pair of sweatpants and unlock Colt’s phone. I’m not going to go through Melissa’s messages with him. All it would do is make me angrier if my suspicions are true. Instead, I call Maddox.
“Uh, hello?” he answers, likely confused that Colt’s name is popping up on his phone despite them being near one another.
“Where’s my child’s father?”
“The arena. The outdoor one. It’s over by the?—”
“I know where it is,” I snap, sliding my feet into my Crocs.
“Alright. Is, uh, everything okay?”
I snort. “We’ll see.”
The arena is a bit of a walk from the cabin, but every step just makes me angrier and angrier.
Another woman. Who he’s meeting with. At noon. When he told me he wasn’t going to be coming home for lunch today because he had a “busy day” and would be “working straight through.”
He’d said that a few other times recently, too. Had he been lying every time? Meeting up with Melissa ?
“Colton Dean Whittaker!” I yell the second I see the group of ranch hands by the outdoor arena.
His head snaps around at the sound of my voice, as does everyone else’s.
I’m not close enough to see the faces of the other men, but the way they scatter as I get closer tells me they’re very aware that pregnant women and anger isn’t a combination they want to be around for.
“What’s wrong?” Colt asks, brows furrowed and hands filthy. “Did you walk here? Let’s… C’mon,” he tries to lead me toward the indoor arena, toward air conditioning, but I cross my arms and glare at him.
“You left your phone at home. ”
“Yeah, I noticed. I was going to come get it in a few hours so I didn’t wake you up when I came inside.”
“How considerate,” I sneer. “You’re working through lunch, right?”
“Yeah?” he says, but it sounds like a question.
I hum. “I gave you about a hundred opportunities to decide that you didn’t want to be around for the pregnancy and then a hundred more to choose whether or not you wanted to be in a relationship with me, regardless of me being pregnant, but maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough.
When you said you were choosing to stay and then you set us up in a pretty little cabin and built me a porch swing bed and told me you wanted to marry me and have more babies, those offers expired. ”
“Baby, I don’t understand?—”
I reach in my pocket and pull out his cell phone, shoving it against his chest.
“I don’t know who Melissa is or why she’s so excited to see you during the lunch break you told me you were working through today, but when you meet with her at noon, it better be the last time. You better let her know you’re a man that’s spoken for.”
Colt grins, his hand reaching up for his phone. He pulls it from my grip and pockets it, not even bothering to look at the screen as his arms wind around my waist. I shove at him, trying to push him away, but he only pulls me closer.
“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re jealous, mama,” he whispers against my ear, biting the lobe.
“I’m not joking, Colt. I’m not putting up with you cheating on me!”
He pulls back, dirty hands framing my cheeks as he looks into my angry eyes.
“I’d never cheat on you,” he says, serious despite the laughter in his eyes. “Melissa is my therapist. After my freak-out last night, I asked her to pencil me in for an appointment if she could. ”
My breath hitches and I can feel my face growing hot in embarrassment at my overreaction. I should’ve just checked the text thread.
“You’re in therapy? How come you didn’t just tell me that instead of saying you were working through lunch?”
He shrugs, relocating his arms back around my waist.
“Sort of embarrassing, isn’t it? A grown man that needs to spill his guts twice a month to a doctor.”
I’d spent most of my childhood in therapy, so I could definitely understand the embarrassment, but there wasn’t any room for it here.
“A grown man who takes care of his mental health isn’t embarrassing. It’s hot.”
He snorts, a wry grin finding a place on his lips. “You think everything I do is hot.”
“Yeah, it’s really freaking annoying, actually.”
His grin only grows. “It’s not annoying. It’s hot . Hence you storming all the way down here to stake your claim and tell me to stop seeing other women.”
“Okay, to be clear, I have no issue with you seeing Melissa now that I know she’s your therapist.”
“Noted.”
“Colt!” Jameson yells from across the arena, and Colt groans, resting his sweaty forehead against my shoulder for a few seconds before kissing it instead.
“I’ve gotta get back to work. Go hang out at the Big House for a bit to cool off and then hitch a ride back to the cabin when you’re ready. You shouldn’t be out walking in this heat.”
I roll my eyes at him, and his hands slip down, squeezing my butt before he winks and pulls away.
“See you later, mama.”