Twenty-Nine | Colson
The sting of the icy, early-spring water enveloping me quickly replaces the warmth of the sunshine that had warmed my skin. However, I can’t ignore the blistering dose of desire that’s been thriving in my veins.
My body is aching for her in ways I’ll never understand. It’s like my heart and my soul are seeing things in Harlow that I’ve never wanted to acknowledge.
My head surfaces, my eyes instantly clashing with cold blue ones that rival the temperature of the water engulfing us.
Harlow swims toward me. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Careful, don’t make too much movement, they’re attracted to it,” I taunt, referring to the fish she thinks exist in this lake. They don’t. I’ve fished this lake for over thirty years. If they were in here, I’d know by now.
When she reaches me, she propels herself upward, places her hands on my head, and shoves me underwater. I kick back up, meeting her cute scowl.
Her eyes widen, and she reaches for the top of her head frantically, patting around for her sunglasses. Oops. I lost my hat in the process, too, but the casualties are worth this glare she’s giving me. It makes my cock swell.
“I hate you,” she levels.
But there it is—that rosy hue that is gaining dominance over her chilled skin. I lift my hand, skimming my knuckles across the blush on her cheeks, noticing the way she draws in a shallow breath as her body magnetizes to mine.
“Do you?” I ask, kicking my feet to keep myself afloat.
Her irises are little ping-pong balls bouncing between mine. She’s trying to fight this—fight her feelings for me. She must hear my internal thoughts, because she lowers her head and closes her eyes while that battle rages in her head.
I place a finger below her chin, tipping her eyes back up to meet mine. “I want you to look me in the eyes and say it again.”
Harlow releases a pained breath. “Colson.”
She turns away from me as if she’s going to start swimming back to shore, but my hand whips out.
My fingers wrap around the back of her neck firmly but not enough to hurt her as I drag her frame toward me and slam my mouth against hers.
Our lips fuse, the chill water vanishing as it turns to a lake of liquid fire, burning us both.
As I suspected, one of her arms slides around my neck while she threads her fingers through my wet hair with the other.
She clutches onto me with a grip that has me groaning, her hunger as strong as mine as we devour each other in the center of the lake.
I wade forward, slapping my wet hand on the bottom of the canoe, which is floating upside down, to brace myself while my insides explode as her soft, wet lips explore mine.
My hand flexes against the surface for purchase as I thrust my tongue into her waiting mouth.
She opens eagerly, tasting like wildfire and temptation as our tongues brush and fight for dominance.
The Pbr thinks she is a sweetheart—an angel amongst men who try to conquer beasts.
Harlow Hartt rides with wings of fire. She’ll scorch anything that gets in her way, and for the last several years, I’ve been the one taking her heat.
For the first time since I met her, I want her to fucking burn me to ashes so I can feel every beautiful, exotic, and torturous feeling that makes me feel alive.
I summon a moan from her throat, the sweetest fucking sound in the world that I eagerly devour.
My hand moves to grip the expanse of her throat as my tongue sweeps across hers.
I suck it into my mouth, continuing to memorize her sweet, unique taste that has driven me wild since our first kiss in Salt Lake.
The whimper she releases would be a cock-hardening one, but I’m already painfully erect in my wet jeans that are plastered to my skin.
“Want to go home?” I whisper across her mouth.
It dawns on me how easily that came out and how natural it sounds saying that word to her. Well, fuck. That shouldn’t be burrowing under my skin like it is.
She nods against me before squirming out of my grasp and taking off, swimming toward the shore.
I clutch the canoe and flip it over before wading to the beach with it.
Fifteen minutes later, we’ve got the canoe strapped in the bed of the truck as we wind around the mountain roads, with only our heartbeats to fill the silence.
My foot is heavy on the gas pedal, desperate to remove my cold, wet clothes and strip her out of hers.
I want to peel them off those curves to expose every beautiful expanse of skin before I memorize each inch of her mapping with my mouth.
I want to bite and trace those stretch marks I’ve seen when she wears a bikini with my tongue—physical proof from how hard she works in the gym.
When we pull up to the house, she jumps out the second I put the truck in park and runs inside.
I follow slowly, my heart thundering in my chest with each step I take up the stairs.
When I enter the hallway, the sight of Harlow’s door shut and the lasso still separating our sides feels like a weight of disappointment sinking into my gut like an anchor barreling toward the seabed.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling my fingers through my wet strands.
I turn toward my room and step through the doorway, immediately halting at the gorgeous woman standing before me in the dark. Soft moonlight pours through the windows, casting gray light and shadows that glide across the floor and decorate the room.
Harlow’s soft grin is briefly obstructed when she reaches for the hem of her T-shirt and pulls it up and over her head.
Her movements paralyze me in place. And when she reaches behind her, unclasps her bra, and lets it fall to my bedroom floor, I nearly collapse to my knees seeing this nearly naked siren.
Her blonde hair, shimmering like strips of silver in the moonlight, cascades over the soft swells of her breasts, hiding those perky pink nipples that are begging for my mouth. My teeth.
My head slants, my feet slowly padding across the floor toward her.
“Are you sure? There’s no going back after this.
As long as you’re in this house, I’m going to make you feel like you’re mine.
” The column of her throat moves. “After having your taste on my tongue once, I’m addicted.
I’m afraid the second I finally have your sweet pussy gripping my cock, I won’t be able to stop. Not with you.”
Her body trembles at my words. She nods, pulling her exposed chest flush with my fully clothed one. Her fingertips grip onto my wet sweatshirt. “I can’t pretend I don’t want you anymore.”
Lifting my hand, I swipe a section of her hair behind her shoulder, watching as one of her nipples hardens further at the feathered contact.
“Plus,” she adds, unable to keep the smirk off her face, “my vibrator died.”
I glide my fingers down her collarbone and over the tops of her breasts, before twisting a nipple between my fingers. Harlow swallows a strangled moan, not taking her eyes off mine. “Good. When I’m done with you, whenever you want a release, your pussy is going to crave my mouth instead.”
She rises onto her toes, brushing the words against my lips. “Then stop using it to talk and put it to use.”
“Goddamn,” I growl, crashing my mouth against hers.
I didn’t think our kissing could get any hotter, but this one is ravenous. Tongues chaotically dueling as I walk her backward, my fingers fiddling with the button on her jeans. The backs of her knees hit my bed before her body collapses onto my mattress.
Slowly, I start to peel the wet denim down her thighs. She lifts her legs one at a time so I can completely remove them and discard them on the floor with the rest of her clothes.
I point to her panties. “Take those off. Now.”
While she wiggles out of them, I turn and walk out of my bedroom door and into the hallway, picking up the lasso off the floor.
The fucking line she drew between us.
I enter the room, watching her eyes widen while I work the rope through my fingers.
Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. “What are you doing with that?”
“Lie in the center of the bed,” I order.
A warm hue flushes her skin. She rolls her lips, looking like she’s about to protest, but she obeys and moves farther onto the bed. I crawl onto it with her, not paying any mind to my damp clothes wetting my duvet.
I glide the rope through my fist, watching her watch me as the tendons in my hands ripple, working the rope. “Hands.”
She listens, sticking them out. I see the questions dancing in her eyes as I weave the rope around her wrists a few times, tightening it enough to secure her. She’ll feel the burn if she moves, but it won’t be enough to hurt her. She took her sweet fuckin’ time; I want her completely at my mercy.
I push her down to lie flat across my bed on her back, my body weight sinking one side of the bed beside her as I lift her hands over her head to my headboard.
I thread the rope through the wood beams, tying it off to keep her bound to my bed.
I stand up, admiring my work, and take mental pictures I can remember later.
My cock throbs, reminding me it wants to be freed. But not yet.
Harlow told me to put my mouth to use, and that’s precisely what I plan on doing.
Ladies come first.
Moving to the front of the bed, I memorize the way she’s sprawled out before me.
I crawl onto the bed, watching as she lifts her head to watch me grip her thighs.
The breath of air she releases fuels my desire as I spread her legs apart, revealing her perfect pink pussy that I’m going to spoil with my tongue. My fingers. My cock.
I’d bet my life that she hasn’t been able to get my comment from the airport out of her beautiful head when I told her that a real man doesn’t need toys to make his woman come.
Bringing myself flush to the mattress, I grip onto one of her calves, brushing my lips across her chilled skin.
Neither one of us has warmed entirely from the lake, but this is better than sitting in front of the fire.
I’m going to bask in my drop of Arizona sunshine while she’s helplessly tied to my bed.
I work my mouth up her thigh, soaking in the way she squirms in my hold. I move to the other leg, stopping short when I see the long, raised, pink-and-red scar below her knee where they made the incision to do her surgery after the incident in Jacksonville.
Harlow studies my reaction as I stare at it.
I meet her eyes, lowering my mouth to the scar, making a trail up it with my tongue, and planting a soft kiss where it ends right below her kneecap.
“Colson—” she chokes out.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against her scar like it will somehow mend the broken skin.
I know we’re both sorry for the things that occurred that weekend—Harlow punching my jaw and her breaking her leg during that ride because I distracted her the night before.
I know I got in her head. I deserved the blow to my face.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t wanted to find a time to say those words since her accident happened, but I was too furious with her for coming back and competing in the Pbr again that my pride took over.
But since she temporarily moved in with me, she’s been softening my edges—filing them down one at a time to create smoother ones that no longer want to hurt her, even if it was my words and competitive spirit.
When I move my lips to the soft valley between her thighs and her center that’s dripping for me, her head falls back, a tremor vibrating her body.
I breathe across her core teasingly before swiping my tongue through her seam.
She moans, and I wiggle my arms under her legs and around her hips to pull her closer to me as my mouth attaches to her.
I suck and nip, her taste filling my mouth while I flick my tongue wildly against her clit.
She thrashes in my hold, soft sounds falling from her lips, as her hips try to buck with the pleasure. I tighten my grip, holding her steady.
“Holy shit, Colson. Your mouth—” She sighs, moving her wrists like she wants to thread her fingers through my hair to hang on through the pleasure I’m building, but she’s bound. Vulnerable.
“I told you, dust bunny, might as well throw that vibrator away because I bet it doesn’t do this.” Taking my middle finger, I slowly push it into her tight cunt. It swallows me easily with how wet she is. She’s soaked for her rival—the man she’s always despised.
I guess we’re both realizing the distance between craving and hating can be razor thin.
It will be a miracle if I don’t come in my pants again with how her velvet walls grip me. I only have one finger inside her, but it doesn’t stop her arousal from leaking out and soaking into my sheets.
“Do you think you deserve another?”
She nods fervently.
I sink my teeth into her thigh. “Say please.”
“Please, Colson,” she whines.
Content with her submission, I begin adding my ring finger, releasing a guttural groan that sounds as animalistic as I feel. She’s so fucking tight I’m going to have to stretch her so she can fit me.
Luckily for me, foreplay is just as satisfying as fucking.
I curl my fingers. When I hit that spot, she whimpers, and I know she won’t last long like this as she thrashes around in her binds. She doesn’t have to because I’m done waiting.
My fingers thrust and curl against her sensitive flesh, and I lower my mouth to her clit. I suck and lick as my fingers work inside her.
I know what’s happening the moment her breath hitches and her muscles tighten in my grasp.
Her cunt clenches and pulses around me, her center growing wetter as she comes on my tongue with my fingers inside her.
Her loud noise, which can only be described as a scream, fills my bedroom with her release.
There’s something so erotic about her chasing her orgasm.
She bucks and writhes, taking what she wants from me.
I draw it out, waiting until her body sinks into the mattress and stills.
I rise onto my knees and kiss up her stomach before grazing my teeth over each hardened nipple. I drag my mouth across her flushed chest before planting my mouth softly on hers. “The next time you come, it will be on my cock.”