We’re both haunted by the specters of our pasts, but we have to move on sometime and force the voice of our guilt to be silent.
Now is that time.
Chapter 11
Falling Into You
Colton sets me down slowly, and I feel his arousal as my front slides against his. We spin again, and I walk backward toward his room, my breath coming in shallow gasps. His hand curls around my waist, but I pull out of his touch. His brow wrinkles in confusion, then clears as I dance a few steps farther back and wrap my fingers around the hem of my shirt. I peel it off quickly, drop it to the floor between us. Colton bends and scoops it up without breaking stride or eye contact, lifts the fabric to his face and sniffs.
I laugh, then reach behind me and slide down the zipper of my skirt, stopping in the doorway to his room. He halts in the hallway, just out of reach, my shirt balled in one fist, his other hand pressed flat against one wall. His broad chest and lean hips are silhouetted by the soft white fluorescent glow from the kitchen, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him, rugged and masculine and delicious.
I shimmy my hips, biting my lip, and let the skirt fall to pool at my feet, and now I’m clad in only my bra and underwear. I watch as his jeans bulge noticeably at the zipper, strained by his arousal.
His eyes are hooded, half-lidded, primal, hungry.
I unhook my bra, one eyelet at a time, then slide one strap off, letting the bra fall to dangle from one finger in front of me. Colton rumbles deep in his chest, a sound of pure approval.
My skin tightens, my nipples pebble hard under his sweeping gaze. I stand and let him look. He takes a step forward, and I want to back up to the bed, lie down for him, retreat from the raw intensity in his eyes, but I don’t. I stay in place and tilt my head up to meet his gaze until he’s standing over me. Our lips are centimeters apart, but we don’t kiss. I can feel his breath hot on my lips, and I want to feel them on me, but I don’t move. I wait.
And then I can’t take it anymore. I tug his shirt off, mimicking his action of smelling it, and ohmigod, it does smell incredible, like him, familiar and comforting and exotic. Then I trail my fingers down his chest, stopping on the trail of dark hair on his belly, leading under his jeans. I unsnap the button, lower the zipper, let my knuckles brush his arousal through the cotton of his underwear. I look down now, and my belly shivers at the sight of the gray cotton boxer-briefs stretched by his shaft, a dot of wetness spreading where his tip presses against the fabric.
He kicks off the jeans, and now we’re both in just our underwear. Almost there, almost bare to each other.
I slip my fingers under the string of my bright pink thong, lower them slightly.
“Stop. Leave them.” Colton’s voice is low and growling, halting me.
I comply immediately, letting my hands fall loose at my sides. I’m not sure why, but it’s hot when he orders me around like this. I feel a tingle in my belly, a shiver in my thighs. I press my legs together, trying to soothe the ache between them, but it’s futile. He closes the gap so my breasts brush his chest, his arousal pressing into my belly. I reach up to touch his shoulders, slide my palms down his spine, pulling him closer. He leans down and kisses me, softly at first, tenderly. It melts me, softens me, leaves me limp and gasping from the delicacy of his kiss. I have to clutch his waist to keep from falling.
My hands are exploring the border of his waist where skin meets cotton; I lift up on my toes to deepen the kiss and push under the elastic to cup his cool hard ass, roaming the globes of muscle with both hands. He growls into the kiss, one of his hands spanning my spine just above my hips, the other touching my waist and drifting up, up, over my ribs…onto my breast. His rough palm covers my nipple, sending thrills spasming through me. I arch into his palm, grip his ass with my fingernails, roaming his mouth with my tongue.
I’m left off-balance and dizzy and gasping when Colton abruptly pulls away. “Hold on to the doorframe,” he orders. I obey, and he smiles at me, a predatory baring of teeth. “Now, spread your feet apart…shoulder-width…yeah, just like that. Now, don’t move. And hold on.”
I think I know what he’s planning, and I suddenly can’t breathe past my heart hammering in my throat. My hands on the doorframe are all that’s holding me up, and I have to grip tight when he sinks to his knees in front of me. His huge hands curl around the backs of my thighs. I bite my lip and gaze down at him, breathless.
Oh, god, oh, god, ohmigod.
He presses his nose against my core, nudging the triangle of pink silk. I can’t help a moan, and he hasn’t even done anything yet. I cry out when he very suddenly reaches up and yanks my panties down. He lifts one of my feet by the ankle, a silent command to step out. I do, and now I’m completely naked, with Colton’s face between my thighs.
I’m waiting, waiting, anticipating, but he’s just looking up at me, devouring me with his eyes, his hands curled around my thighs once more, just beneath my ass.
Is he going to use his mouth on me? Go down on me? God, I want him to.
There’s no warning. He times his assault when I close my eyes in desperation, willing him to do something. Nothing, nothing…and then suddenly his hot wet tongue slides slowly up the crease of my folds. I let my head fall back, and I whimper in delight, relief. I have to clutch the doorframe with all my strength to stay upright.
His fingers are on the insides of my thighs, curling around from behind to pull me apart, spread me open for his mouth. Another soft, slow lick upward, a third, and then he’s lapping, lapping, and I’m whimpering nonstop. And then he digs in with his tongue, pressing against the nub of hypersensitive nerves. I dip against his face, my legs giving out.
“Lock your knees, Nelly-baby.”
I do it, and then his tongue is inside me once more, circling my clit and pushing hard gasps out of me, soft moans, breathy whimpers.
An inferno of fiery pressure is building inside me, a huge balloon of impending detonation. The edge is approaching, and he’s taking me there, taking me past it, into a wonderland of ecstasy. I want to touch him, touch his hair, his skin, but he told me to hold on to the door and if I don’t, he might stop what he’s doing and that would be the worst, so I hold on to the door like I was told and let myself moan as loud as I want. The louder my voice goes, the faster and more fervently he licks me.
And then, just this side of coming, he slows and pulls his tongue away, resumes licking up my folds, and I make a sound of half-pleasure, half-frustration. One of his hands curves around the outside of my thigh, touches the inside of the opposite knee, then drifts up to his chin.
Yes, yes, touch me, there. I need his fingers inside me.
He doesn’t, though. “Tell me what you want me to do. I won’t do it unless you tell me to.”
I groan, then tip my head down to look at him. His mouth and lips glisten with my juices, his blue, blue eyes shining with desire.
“Touch me. Put your fingers inside me. Keep going down on me.” I don’t stifle my moan when he slides two fingers inside my hot, throbbing, drenched channel. “Make me come.”
“Say my name.”
I bite my lip, because I can’t help it and because it drives him crazy. “Make me come, Colton.”
He grumbles in his chest. It’s a good sound. “You know,” he says, pauses to swipe my folds with his tongue, and then continues, “you’re the only person in my life who calls me that. Everyone else calls me Colt.”
“Want me to call you Colt instead?” I ask.
“Hell, no. I love the way you say my name.”
There aren’t any more words then, because his fingers are moving in a way that has me wanting to scream, and his tongue has zeroed in on my clit again, and his hand is caressing my ass. He’s all over me, in me, on me, all around me. My world has shrunk down to him, to Colton and the insanely incredible thing he’s doing to me.
So close, so close. But then every time I reach the cusp, he seems to know and slows, switches his rhythm and pulls me bac
k from the edge. He’s drawing his cues from my voice, I think. He hears the tempo of my moans increase as I reach the edge, and then when I’m gasping and whimpering with need, he stops, and I throw my head back in frustration, but then I tip it forward again to watch him lap at me. Oh, god, he’s so sexy doing that. His dark hair glints in the light, his skin dark and dusky in the low light, his bare muscles gleaming and shifting as he moves. His hand is on my ass, holding me against him, and now I’ve lost all control over myself. I’m dipping on weak knees against his mouth and fingers, and my hands are tangled in his hair, crushing him against me with wanton need, complete abandonment.
“I need to come, Colton,” I breathe. “Please, let me come.”
He caresses my ass in circles, smoothing the skin over my left cheek, his right hand inside me, rubbing against a spot high on my walls, rubbing in a way that has me panting and whimpering, then pulls his two fingers in and out, in and out, then rubs the spot again. His tongue is relentless, untiring, flicking and circling my clit, brushing it, licking it, sucking it into his mouth and pulling on it with gentle teeth.
Closer, now. So close.
“I’m right there,” I hear myself say, panting. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t answer, just renews his assault, and now I’m on the edge, hovering, wavering, about to tip forward. My head is thrown back and I’m moaning out loud, pulling his face against my core in the rhythm of my knees’ buckling and his tongue’s sweeping.
He pulls my clit between his teeth and suckles it hard, rubbing me furiously with his fingers, and then I come. As I gasp a shriek, announcing my orgasm, he slaps my ass, and I come so hard my breath leaves me and my scream is cut off. He slaps my ass again, on the other cheek, withdrawing his fingers and sliding them back in as he smacks me a third time. With each slap of his hand on my ass, he flicks my clit with his tongue, and I come, come, come, bent forward at the waist and mouth wide but silent.
“Scream for me, Nelly.” He accompanies the order with one last smack, the hardest, and nips my clit with his teeth, almost too hard, but not quite.
I can’t help but obey, screaming loudly and collapsing forward. Colton catches me in his arms as he stands up. I’m twitching with wave after wave of aftershock, but I force my eyes open, watch as Colton moves across the hall into the bathroom, digs around in the cabinet under the sink, pulls out an unopened box of condoms. He opens the flap and withdraws a string of packets, rips one free, and tosses the rest on the floor next to the bed.
Watching him do this drives home what’s about to happen. Letting him go down on me, touching him, kissing him, making him come with my hand, all that is one thing. But actual sex, him above me, sliding into me…that’s different.
He strips off his boxers and settles onto the bed next to me, leaning over me on one elbow. “Second thoughts?” he asks, having seen the look on my face, probably. “There’s no pressure. You don’t want to do this, we don’t—”
“I do.” I lift my hand to caress the knobs of his spine down to his ass. “I really do. It’s been so long, I’m nervous. But I want it.”
“And the ghosts?”
“There, but I’m working past them.” I follow the line of his side, trace his ribs, then back down to his hip. “You?”
“Same.” His gaze rakes down my body, then flicks up to meet my eyes. “You’re so sexy, Nell. So beautiful. I can’t take it, you’re so fucking gorgeous. I don’t deserve a delicious little angel like you.”
And just like that, the nerves are subsumed beneath a tidal wave of tenderness and desire. “I’m no angel,” I say, lifting up on one elbow and pushing him onto his back. “And you do deserve me. You deserve someone better than—”
“I deserve exactly you,” he cuts in, settling his hands on my hips as I kneel astride his thighs. “Only you. The good and the bad. All you, all beautiful.”
I can only stare at him in response, blinking back emotion. Not tears, not really. Just…emotion. I shift my gaze to his torso, the dragon spewing fire, the lettering, the images, all painted across his gloriously muscled physique. I smooth my hands over his chest, down his stomach, trace the V-cut with trembling fingertips. I follow the lines of the “V” downward to the close-trimmed pubic hair, and—god, he’s huge—his shaft. I lick my lips, and then bite down, hesitating. He doesn’t move, just holds my hips loosely.
“Touch me,” he says. “This is whatever you want. Your pace.”
A fingertip at first. Just the pad of my index finger grazing the very tip of him; he jerks under my touch, and his stomach retracts slightly, then relaxes. My lip hurts, I’m biting it so hard, and his fingers tighten in the flesh of my hip, his self-control exercised. I’ve done this to him before, but he was sleeping then, not watching. It’s different. I want to know how he likes it, what he wants, what feels best. I want to just touch him, hold him. I want to wrap my lips around him and taste him. That’s something I’ve only done once or twice before a long time ago, and I find myself wanting to try it with him.
I shift back on his legs so I’m on my shins, straddling his knees. Then a deep breath, and I’m wrapping my hand around him. He’s thick in my palm, hard as a rock, the skin soft and scorching hot. My heart is a wild drum in my throat, and I’m barely breathing. His eyes are on me, his gaze unwavering and unreadable. I slide my hand down to his base, and he’s so long I can place my other hand on him, cradle him with both fists. I slip my fists up his length, then down again, and then I’ve got a rhythm going.
“God, Nell. I love the way you touch me.” His voice is husky, slow.
I don’t answer, not until I’ve bent over him so his pink, veined flesh is in front of my face. “I want to taste you.”
“Whatever you want,” he says. “But I’m not gonna come in your mouth.”
“No?” I hesitate, then touch my lips to his head.
“Nope. Not this time, at least. I want to be inside you when I come. I want to be staring into your beautiful eyes when we come together.”
He tangles his hand in my hair, then slumps his head back when I find my courage and slip him between my lips. He tastes of skin, salt, and heat, and there’s moisture slicking his tip, touching my tongue and tasting of faint musk and salt. He moans, and I take him deeper, pushing him inch by inch into my mouth, running my tongue along him. I’ve got my fist around him still, and I slide it up and down on his base, and then my lips are touching my fist and he’s as far as he can go before I gag. I back away, sliding him out, moving my hand on him, then descend once more. He flutters his hips slightly as he reaches the back of my throat.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to gag you.”
I pull my mouth off him, but not my hands, and look at him. “It’s fine. I like the way you taste.” I don’t wait for him to answer, but wrap my lips around him again and take him deep.
This time, I gag myself with him on purpose, out of curiosity, to see how far I can go.
“Jesus, Nell.” He tries to pull his hips back, but there’s nowhere for him to go, and he’s hissing, tightening his fingers in my hair. “If you’re gonna do that, at least try to relax your throat. Don’t do anything you don’t want to. Don’t do anything ’cause you think I expect it.”
I back away, then down again, and this time I relax my throat muscles and take him deeper. Oh, god, oh, god, ohmigod. So deep. So huge. Almost too much, but I like it. I don’t know what that says about me, and I don’t care. He likes it, I can tell. He’s holding back, but he really likes it. I set a rhythm, backing away until his tip is at my lips, then take him as deep as I can, sliding my fist on him as I back away.
“Fuck, Nell. Fuck, that’s incredible.” He’s breathless, trembling from the effort to hold still.
“You can move,” I tell him. “Don’t hold back.”
He groans and begins to move into my rhythm. I glance up at him as his head is at my lips, and his face is turned up to the ceiling, a look of pained rapture on his face. I love knowing I’m
giving him this pleasure. His fingers are clenched into my hair, tight against my scalp. He pulls on me gently, encouraging me.
He moves, moves, thrusting into my mouth. I take him, take all of him. I know he said he wasn’t going to come in my mouth, but I decide to make him. I want it. I want to swallow it, taste it, feel it, feel him lose control in my mouth.
“Touch my sack,” he says, the words grated past clenched teeth. “Please.”
I cup his balls in one hand, and they’re tight, swollen. I massage them as tenderly as I can, moving my other hand at his root, pumping swiftly, bobbing onto him faster and faster. His breathing is ragged, his hips moving in uncontrolled spasms. I take him deep every time, and I don’t gag. I’m proud of that. I like feeling him in my throat, knowing he likes it, loves it. He’s given me such pleasure doing this to me, and now I can give it back.
He tries to pull away. “I have to—have to stop. I’m too close, Nell.” He tugs on my hair, twice.
I only move faster, and then I feel his hips give in and thrust into me again. I feel his balls tense and pulse, and then his hips strain at the apex of a thrust, deep in my throat. I feel a hot rush spurt down my throat. I back away so his tip is between my lips and suck hard. He groans loudly and his hips buck, and another stream jets into my mouth. I taste it this time, thick and hot and salty on my tongue, sliding down my throat as I swallow. I squeeze his base and pump, sucking still, and he unleashes a third time, a lesser amount and a softer spurt. When I feel the spasms subside, I take him deep one last time, then spit him out and slide up his body so I’m resting on his chest. His still-hard tip nudges my folds, and I can’t help but wiggle against it, working it in. I want to feel him inside me.
Colton is tensed and trembling, shuddering. “Holy shit, Nell. That was fucking incredible.”
I giggle against his shoulder. “Thanks? I wasn’t sure if I was doing that right, but you seemed to like it, so…”
The Nice Boxset Page 25
