Guilty Needs

by Shiloh Walker

  Self-preservation had him slowing down the rhythm of his thrusts. Bree cupped her hands over his hips and tried to draw him closer but he held back. Slow, easy thrust in—slow, easy withdrawal—still, her silk-drenched pussy was fist-tight around him, her scent flooded his head and her soft, hoarse moans were the most erotic sounds he’d ever heard in his life. Control was hard-won, bit by bit, degree by degree and every time she wiggled against him, every time her nails dug into his hips in demand, that hard-won control threatened to shatter.

  Six fucking months of dreams weren’t going to end in under two minutes, though. Shoving upward, he balanced on his haunches while he hooked his elbows under her knees. Then he covered her again, using his weight to keep her from moving under him as he fucked her.

  That sweet, snug pussy convulsed around him as Bree snarled in frustration. Her body tensed as she fought to set the rhythm.

  “Be still,” Colby muttered, nipping her ear.

  “Damn it, Colby—”

  He nuzzled her neck. “I haven’t spent the last six months dreaming about this just so you can have me coming before I barely even have a chance to start. Be still.”

  “Six months…” She stretched her arms overhead, her hands scrambling for something to hold on to. All she could find was the wooden chaise they lay on. Gripping it in her hands, she managed, just barely, to get enough leverage to grind her pelvis against his.

  She moaned even as he swore, her lashes fluttering low over her eyes. He felt it coming on her, as easy as that, just the friction of his body rubbing against her clit.

  She gloved him so tightly, but as she started to come, her pussy squeezed down around his dick in excruciating pleasure-pain.

  He wasn’t going to be able to hold out this time. He tried, gritting his teeth, dropping his body down on hers and using his weight to pin her in place, but nothing he did could stop the rhythmic, milking caresses rippling along his cock.

  Nothing could cool the fire building in his balls, racing up his spine and exploding through him. “Witch,” he growled, groaning low in his throat as climax slammed into them. It danced and sizzled through his veins—liquid electricity that started in his fingers, his toes, hurtling inward until it converged in his balls before exploding outward.

  He had to see her—needed to see her eyes. “Look at me,” he rasped, letting go of her legs. “Look at me…” he laid a hand on her neck, rested his thumb against her lips. Her lashes lifted slowly. She opened her mouth, circled his thumb with her tongue before drawing it inside. She sucked on him as he rode her and the feel of it—her hot mouth drawing on his flesh—had another climax rise up and slam into him before the first one had even ended.

  With a hoarse cry, he arched against her, lost in her. Dimly, he felt her body shuddering, shaking, moving in rhythm with his as she came.

  And his name.

  As he collapsed, to rest with his head pillowed between her breasts, she whispered his name.

  Bree had no idea how long they lay there.

  It could have been minutes.

  It could have been hours.

  She might have drifted off for a few minutes, she didn’t know. Nothing seemed real, yet it had that vivid, surreal quality of dreams, the kind that lingered with you for hours after waking. It wasn’t until he stirred in her arms that her brain actually kicked in and she realized what was going on.

  It had all really happened. This wasn’t just some midnight fantasy that would shatter around her the minute she opened her eyes. Her body cried out at the loss of his heat as he braced his elbows on the ground and pushed up, staring at her face with unreadable eyes.

  The practical bitch trapped inside Bree commented snidely, Here comes the now-what. You wanted to know. Here’s the answer. He’s going to stand up, get dressed and walk away.

  Well, one out of three. He did stand up. But he didn’t get dressed or walk away. What he did was take her hand and draw her to her feet and guide her to the house. Without speaking, he snagged her purse from the ground and dug out her keys. She wrapped her arms around her body, shivering as the cool summer night air began to penetrate the lax, lazy languor that wrapped around her.

  Inside the house wasn’t much better. Her nipples were so tight from the cool air, they ached and she shivered uncontrollably until he stopped mid-step and scooped her up in his arms. She squealed, startled, and immediately felt like an idiot. Smacking at his shoulders, she squirmed. “Put me down, Colby. I’m too heavy.”

  He nuzzled her neck and then smiled down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded. “You don’t feel too heavy to me.” The tips of his fingers touched the outer curve of her right breast and he stroked her lightly. “You feel perfect.”

  Perfect? She snorted. She stood five inches taller than Alyssa had and probably weighed a good fifty pounds more. Stop. Stop thinking about her. She tensed in his arms, unable to banish the overwhelming sense of self-consciousness that washed over her.

  “Where did you go?” he asked as he carried her into her room and laid her on the bed.

  She might have tried to roll away from him, but he settled down next to her, bracing an arm on her opposite side. Trapped, she stared up at him in the dark room. At least it was dark in there. She always kept her curtains closed so the brilliant silvery light of the full moon couldn’t shine through. The darkness made it easier to deal with him.

  What could she say? I keep thinking about Alyssa and I come up short every damn time. Hell, now that would put a damper on things. Instead, she hedged, looking away from him as she mumbled, “I’m nowhere near perfect, Colby.”

  He left the bed. Tracking his shadowed body, she watched as he made his way back to the door. As he flicked the light on, she flinched, automatically shielding her eyes. Squinting at him, she watched as he moved to the foot of the bed. He wrapped his fingers around her ankles, firmly, gently urging her to open her thighs. Then he settled on his knees between her widespread legs and laid the flats of his palms on the outer curve of her calves. His eyes roamed over her, starting at her legs, moving upward.

  As he stared at her sex, blood rushed to her cheeks but she couldn’t tell if she was more turned-on or embarrassed. She was already wet—wet from herself, wet from him—but under that hot, intense stare, she felt a rush of heat escape her. She was on fire. Blazing. Dying from the heat.

  Then he licked his lips and crouched down, pressing his mouth against her and she mewled, bucking upward. He stroked his tongue down her slit, opening her.

  Bree keened out his name and reached down, fisting her hands in his hair. He settled his body between her thighs. She brought her knees up, trying to decide if she wanted to squirm away or tug on his head until he put his mouth on her and put her out of her misery.

  Colby seemed to know what she was debating, because he caught her hips in his hands and held her still. He flicked a glance at her and then kissed her—a full, open-mouthed kiss. He nuzzled her clit, licked it, sucked on the sensitized bud until she was shaking and then he started to fuck his tongue in, out…slowly…lazily.

  He stroked her with his tongue, groaned against her pussy, and when she bucked against his mouth, he growled—a demanding, greedy sound low in his chest. His hands tightened on her ass and lifted her more fully against him. The lazy, teasing strokes became hungry, frenzied, driving her harder and harder, as though he was trying to devour her. He didn’t stop until he’d driven her to climax and then climbed up her body and wedged his hips between her thighs.

  Dazed, she watched as he flicked his hair out of his eyes, their dark golden-amber color burning into her. “Perfect,” he muttered. He reached between them, wrapping his fingers around his cock and then guiding his length into her.

  She took him easier this time but he still moved too damn slow, feeding her one slow inch at a time, as though driving her crazy topped his list of things to do. “Colby…”

  “Bree…” he mimicked, smiling down at her. “You’re so impatient.”

  “An
d you’re cruel.” Reaching up, she twined her fingers around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers. “Quit teasing me. You have no idea—” she broke off, flushing as she realized what she’d almost said. What she’d almost told him. She covered by kissing him, twining her tongue with his, pulling back to nip his lip.

  “Cruel?” he asked when she broke away to gasp for air. “I go down on you and lick you until you scream my name, but I’m cruel?”

  Catching her wrists, he stretched her arms over her head, pinning her wrists with one hand. Trailing the fingertips of his free hand along her side, he reached between them and stroked her clit. “Now if I did this until you were just a breath away from coming, that might be cruel.”

  He strummed her with his fingers, playing her body like a master. And then he did just what he’d threatened, working her until climax was just a whisper away and then he stopped, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. “Now that’s being cruel.”

  If she could have reached him, she would have bitten him. She wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her heels just above his butt. “Don’t tease me.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Her lashes fluttered. What did she want him to do? Oh, baby, don’t go there. Don’t ask me a question like that. How could she possibly answer him without exposing herself? Without making a fool of herself or putting him on the spot? “I want you.”

  “Want me to what?” Disentangling her legs from his hips, he reached between her thighs again, stroked her, quickly, lightly, and then pulled back before she could work herself against his hand. “Want me to make you come? Want me to fuck you…or should I keep being cruel?”

  Lowering her lashes, she stared at him through them. Her voice shook as she said, “Fuck me. Please, Colby…I need you to fuck me.” I need you to love me! But she wasn’t going to ask for things she couldn’t have.

  But even she heard the desperate plea in her voice, something that went deeper than a need for sex—even a need as visceral and primal as this. Something flared in his eyes. Twin flags of color rode high on his cheeks and he hissed a breath between his teeth. He cupped her cheek in his hand. She could feel the wetness from her body on his fingers, smell the combined scents of their previous orgasms on him. “I’ll take care of you, Bree,” he muttered, crushing his mouth to hers.

  He slammed into her full-force, so hard, driving deep—so deep that she knew she’d feel the sweet ache of it come morning. Her body shuddered from the force of his thrusts. She felt bruised inside, overwhelmed outside. She couldn’t even scream because his lips were there, catching each and every sound and swallowing it. The thick length of his cock throbbed and jerked inside her pussy. His free hand cupped her ass, his fingers digging into the crevice between her buttocks.

  She jerked against his grasp, wanting to touch him, but he didn’t let her go. He rode her hard and even when she stiffened, climaxed around him and wailed into his mouth, he didn’t stop. He pounded away at her and when she would have sagged, replete and fulfilled, he growled against her mouth and demanded, “Again, damn it. Come again.”

  He let go of her hands, pulled away and flipped her onto her belly. She started to push upward but he caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed beside her head. Wedging his knees between her thighs, he opened her more fully and covered her body with his, crushing her into the mattress. He couldn’t take her as deeply, not with her lying flat on her belly, legs trapped by his. Still, there was something almost painfully erotic about it, the way he fucked her from behind, his cock digging into her sex—hard as iron, hot as molten steel—her wrists braceleted by one of his hands.

  The thick stalk of his cock jerked, throbbed inside her and she whimpered, flexing her muscles around him instinctively, trying to hold him inside even as he withdrew.

  “Now who’s being cruel?” he muttered, raking his teeth along her shoulder. “Perfect. Hot. Sweet. Come. Come for me, Bree.”

  “I can’t…” she whimpered, even as she lifted her ass, pressing against him, seeking more.

  He slid a hand down her side and gripped her hip. “Yeah, you can.” He let go of her wrists and settled back on his heels, urging her up onto her knees. Then he slid a hand around her, tweaking her clit, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, tugging, stroking, rubbing…

  “Ohhhhhh…” She whimpered and shuddered, rocking back and forth, riding the thick pillar of flesh, rubbing against his hand—back and forth, back…forth… She straightened, settling back against his body, his chest pressed against her back.

  He wrapped his forearm around her waist, steadying her body as she rode him. With his other hand, he continued to stroke her clit, teasing the swollen bud. Every touch was a mix of pleasure and pain, heaven and hell.

  “Come.” He growled it, that sexy, harsh sound that rumbled out from deep inside his chest and shuddered over her like a velvet caress.

  She did, on a low, harsh moan, exploding, everything inside her flying apart. She was flying. Soaring off someplace just this side of paradise and if he hadn’t held her so close, cradled her so tightly, she just might have gotten so lost in the pleasure, she would never have returned from it.

  Distantly, she felt the jerk and throb of his cock as he emptied himself deep inside, flooding her with the hot, wet splash of semen. He whispered her name, his voice a mix of pride and awe.

  The whisper came to her through a clouded haze of need and exhaustion, following her into dreams.

  She came awake slowly, her body wrapped in heat. An unconscious smile curled her lips as she stretched, arching her back as the vivid dream from last night began to dance through her brain.

  “Morning.”

  Her mouth went dry. Slowly, she pushed up onto her elbow and looked downward. There was an arm wrapped around her waist. Muscled, lightly dusted dark hair. Slightly boney wrist, long-fingered hands… She knew those hands.

  Oh, damn do I know those hands. They are the most perfect, most beautiful hands in the world.

  Squinting, she sat up and looked down at Colby. His lids were still closed, a smile playing at the corners of his lips but he most definitely was there.

  Nonchalantly, she slid her hand under the sheet and pinched her thigh. Hard. The sharp pain didn’t make her wake up, which meant only one thing, as far as she could tell. This wasn’t a dream.

  Last night hadn’t been a dream.

  “Good morning.”

  He rolled over onto his back and reached for her, pulling her with him so that she ended up sprawled across him. His lashes lifted and she found herself staring into sleepy, sexy eyes. This was new territory for her. The last time she’d spent a night with a guy had been in college.

  Wayne had been the only man she’d met who had ever been able to make her think about somebody besides Colby. She’d loved him. It hadn’t been the all-consuming need she had for Colby, but she’d loved him. His sudden death in a car crash had shaken her to the core.

  The few times she’d spent the night with him in college, it had always been at his small apartment just off campus. Never once had she had a guy spent the night with her, slept all night in her bed.

  Hell, she’d never let a guy in her bed.

  So this was definitely unchartered territory.

  She licked her lips and tried a smile. It wobbled a little, but Colby didn’t seem to notice. He stroked a hand up her back and curved it over the nape of her neck, drawing her face toward his.

  He kissed her—a lazy, sweet kiss that left her tingling all over, from her lips all the way down to the soles of her feet. His other hand rested on the base of her spine, just above her ass. Against her belly, she felt the rigid length of his cock. With a hungry moan, she rocked against him. The hand on her back slid down, cupped her ass and squeezed.

  Lifting up, she shifted until she straddled his thighs. Staring at him, she ran her hands down his chest. His skin was shades paler than her own, sleek and leanly muscled. A smattering of black hair acros
s his pecs trailed down in a thin ribbon that arrowed toward his sex. Her mouth went dry as she stared at him.

  His cock was thick, ruddy and swollen. As she stared at him, his flesh jerked. Reaching out, she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked.

  He really was here. Lying in her bed. He’d spent the whole night with her and right now, he was looking at her as though nobody else in the world existed. She didn’t expect that to last. What had brought him to her like this, she didn’t know, but she had no illusions that she was going to have a happily-ever-after wrapped up and placed before. She was too practical to waste time deluding herself.

  But she had every intention of enjoying it while it lasted.

  Lifting her gaze back to his face, she watched as she stroked him up and down, squeezing as she neared the base of his cock and then easing her grip just a bit as she started the upstroke.

  The skin stretched over his rigid length was silky soft, almost fragile. Underneath, he was hard as iron and his flesh jerked in her hand as she stroked upward, then back down, from base to tip, over and over. A clear bead of fluid formed on the head of his penis and she caught it with her thumb and rubbed it around. His breath hissed out from between his teeth. His hips moved in rhythm with her hand and she waited until his body went tense under hers and then she lifted up. Staring down into his eyes, she held him steady as she took his cock inside her.

  She sank down on him slowly. Her pussy, swollen and sensitive from last night, resisted it at first and she had to work to take all of him. She could feel every damn ridge and line of his cock—the flared head, the vein running down the underside. Every jerk and throb of his penis sent a flutter of pleasure-pain rushing through her.

  It was almost too much, the sensations almost too painful. But she couldn’t have made herself stop for anything. She needed him—oh, damn did she need.

  His hands cupped her hips, fingers biting into her flesh. His head ground into the pillow beneath it, his teeth bared in a sexy snarl. “Fuck, Bree…”