24. Chapter 24 #3
I lowered my mouth to his chest, kissing the salt slick skin, then licked a slow stripe from his collarbone to the hollow of his throat.
He shuddered, a low groan escaping his lips as I sucked gently on the pulse point there.
My hands roamed down his sides, feeling the ripple of his muscles under my palms, until they reached the waistband of his jeans.
I hooked my thumbs inside and pulled the denim down, letting it pool around his ankles.
His cock sprang free, thick and veined, a bead of precum glistening at the tip.
I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, feeling the heat and the firmness of him.
I gave him a slow, deliberate stroke, watching his eyes flutter shut as pleasure washed over his face.
I leaned in, taking the head of his cock into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge.
I sucked, drawing a deep moan from him, and then let my lips slide down, taking more of him until I felt the back of my throat stretch.
I bobbed my head, establishing a rhythm that matched the quickening of his breath.
His hands tangled in my hair, not forcing, just guiding, as I increased the pressure, my cheeks hollowing with each suction.
I could feel his cock throb, the precum mixing with my saliva, making the slide slick and hot.
When I sensed he was close, I pulled back, letting his cock slip from my lips with a soft pop.
I looked up at him, my lips swollen, and whispered, “I want you inside me.”
He needed no further invitation. He shifted, lifting me slightly so I could straddle his thighs.
I positioned myself over his erection, feeling the blunt tip press against the entrance of my pussy.
I lowered myself slowly, inch by inch, feeling the stretch as his cock filled me.
The sensation was intense—his thickness spreading my walls, the heat of him mingling with my own wetness.
I gasped as he bottomed out, his hips pressing hard against mine, our bodies locked together.
I began to move, rocking my hips forward and back, letting his cock slide in and out with a steady, deliberate grind.
Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my clit, and I could feel the slickness of my juices coating his shaft, making the slide easier, hotter.
I leaned forward, bracing my hands on his chest, and let my breasts brush against his skin with every movement.
His hands gripped my hips, helping me find a deeper angle, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of my ass as I rose and fell.
The room filled with the sound of our breathing, the soft creak of the floor beneath us, and the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh meeting flesh.
I tilted my pelvis slightly, adjusting the angle so that his cock rubbed directly against my G spot with each inward stroke.
A moan escaped my lips, raw and unfiltered, and I felt his breath hitch in response.
“Fuck, Caroline,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “You feel so good.”
I answered by tightening my inner muscles around him, a deliberate clench that made him gasp.
I increased the pace, riding him harder, my hips snapping forward with each thrust. His cock pulsed inside me, and I could feel the familiar tightening in my belly, the promise of orgasm building like a tide.
He sat up suddenly, pulling me with him so that our chests pressed together, our lips meeting in a hungry kiss.
His hands slid up my back, cupping my shoulders, then slid down to grasp my ass, lifting me slightly so he could thrust deeper.
The new angle drove his cock harder against my front wall, and I cried out into his mouth, the sound muffled by his lips.
Our movements became more urgent, a frantic dance of hips and hands. I could feel his cock swelling, the veins standing out starkly as he neared his peak. I broke the kiss, throwing my head back, and whispered, “Come inside me, Colt. Fill me.”
He groaned, a guttural sound that seemed to come from deep within his chest, and then he drove into me one final time, his hips slamming against mine with a force that made me see stars.
His cock jerked, and hot ropes of cum flooded my pussy, filling me completely.
I clenched around him, milking every drop, my own orgasm crashing over me in a wave of intense, shuddering pleasure that left me trembling against his chest.
We stayed locked together, our bodies slick with sweat and mingled juices, our breaths ragged and synchronized.
I rested my forehead against his shoulder, feeling his heart hammer against my own.
His hands stroked my back in slow, soothing circles, and I could feel the aftershocks of our release still rippling through us.
After a long moment, he softened inside me, and I gently lifted myself off, feeling his cock slip out with a soft, wet sound.
A mixture of our fluids coated my thighs and his shaft, glistening in the dim light of the living room lamp.
I shifted to sit beside him, our legs tangled, and turned to face him.
He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his thumb tracing the line of my cheek. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough from exertion and emotion.
I smiled, my lips still tingling from our kiss. “And you,” I replied, “are exactly what I needed.”
We lay there, the quiet of the night wrapping around us like a warm blanket, the only sound our breathing and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
In that moment, there was no past, no fear, no anger—just the simple, profound truth of two people choosing each other, again and again, in the most intimate language we knew.
The security maps remained scattered across the floor beside us.
For once, they did not feel like evidence of a cage.
They felt like a plan.
A plan I had helped build.
Whatever Xtinction was preparing, I was still afraid.
I suspected I would remain afraid until the threat was over.
But fear no longer felt like proof that I was helpless.
I knew how to spot a tail.
I knew where to move.
Who to call.
How to create time.
How to fight if time ran out.
More importantly, I knew I could stand beside Colt without disappearing inside him.
I thought about Rochelle in the parking garage.
You going to let this break you, or are you going to fight back?
Colt’s fingers moved lazily over my shoulder.
I looked at the blue notes covering the map beside us.
For the first time since my photograph had become a target, the answer felt simple.
I was already fighting.