He paused in between each kiss to torture her another way. With dirty little directives. “Spread your legs.”
She obeyed and was rewarded with the slide of his finger inside her.
“Pinch your nipples for me.” She looked down to find him gazing up at her from beneath heavy lids. She did as ordered and earned the flick of his tongue.
“Colton,” she moaned.
“Hmmm?” He hummed the word against her labia.
“Shut up and make me come.”
He laughed in a raspy wheeze, dug his fingers into her hips, and finally dove in with the vigor she needed. He parted her with fingers and tongue, found her clit like the master excavator that he was, and sent her clear to space.
Maybe she should’ve felt sheepish about how quickly the tension built, how hard she gripped his hair, or how vigorously she pumped her hips against his mouth. But there was no time for anything other than to throw her head back and cry out with the shock of her orgasm.
If she hadn’t been near the bed, she would’ve collapsed to the floor. Instead, she fell back onto the mattress. He never let her go. His hands slid down her body and gripped her hips and pulled her forward to his mouth again to coax every last tremor from her body. It didn’t seem possible that she could have anything left in her, but when he began to suck, she arched her back again and let go with another cry.
As she returned to herself, she was peripherally aware of the sound of fabric and skin, the soft whoosh as he shed his clothes, and then the dip of the mattress next to her. Her eyes fluttered open as she rolled her head and found him propped up on one elbow, gazing down at her with a tender smile.
Sweetness was her undoing. She could meet him toe to toe when he flirted and charmed and teased. But when he looked at her like this, with his heart in his eyes, she was as disarmed as a cornered rabbit. She’d fled from him like one before, and it took all her willpower to not let the same fear kick in now.
He dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers. “Do you need anything?” he murmured.
She rolled toward him. “Just you.”
Colton slid his hand over the curve of her hip and around to her stomach until his fingers met hers. Between their bodies, the urgent press of his erection was the only reminder that she alone had found release. Because even though he sucked in a sharp breath as she shifted closer, he made no move to roll her over or seek the same pleasure for himself that he’d just given her.
“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, trailing a finger along the length of him.
His eyes darkened, but still he didn’t move. “Just let me look at you for a minute.”
“I get shy when I’m looked at too long.”
“Well, you better get used to it, because I could lie here and look at you forever.” He ran his knuckles across her cheek. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
He was going to be the death of her if he kept being so damn nice. She closed her fingers around him and began to pump up and down, slowly, circling his tip with her thumb. He shuddered and closed his eyes, and finally his restraint snapped. He rolled her onto her back and covered her mouth with his. They kissed in a tangle of arms and legs until his breathing grew ragged and rough, his movements shaky and frantic. He rose quickly, sheathed himself in a condom, and returned to her arms.
He entered her slowly and then quickly, adjusting and readjusting, remembering and reacquainting, until they moved in sync, giving and taking, whispering incoherently, panting feverishly. She lifted her legs to take him in farther, and the tension built again. Pulsing and searching. Faster and faster. He pressed his forehead to hers, begged her to come.
And once again, she obeyed. With a muffled cry, the dam broke again. She stiffened as the waves crashed again and again. When he withdrew from her suddenly, she grabbed for him, protesting.
But he wasn’t done with her yet. “Roll over,” he whispered.
She could’ve orgasmed again from his voice alone. Gretchen did as he asked, lifting her butt in the air. Colton pressed against her, his hands rubbing and squeezing her butt cheeks. Then he reached between her legs, toyed with her some more. She couldn’t help herself. She moved her hips in time with his fingers. “Please,” she moaned.
He buried himself inside her again with a hard thrust and a guttural oath. “Fuck, Gretchen.”
She didn’t know if it was an exclamation or a command, but she was going with the latter. She moved against him, taking him deeper, harder. And when he grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her skin to hold her steady against his thrusts, she was gone. She came in a sudden burst of white-hot waves, and he swore again and joined her over the cliff. His body spasmed and stiffened behind hers before he collapsed on her back, panting into her neck. Her legs gave way, and together they flattened against the mattress. She had to turn her head to keep from suffocating, but the feel of him atop her, spent and weak and sweaty, was worth the struggle.