by K. Bromberg
“You were never an arra—”
“Let’s call a spade a spade.” I arch my eyebrows at him, trying to summon the fire that coursed through my veins moments before that has since been replaced with desolation. “You have an uncanny way of putting me in my place any time I overstep one of your asinine boundaries.”
We stare at each other, unspoken words on our lips, and he is the first to look away and break our connection. He shrugs out of his dinner jacket, and wraps it around my shoulders, ever the consummate gentleman even in the midst of turmoil, but where his fingers would normally linger on my skin, he recoils instantly.
“I never meant to hurt you, Rylee.” His voice cracks with a quiet vulnerability I’ve never heard before. I’d never expect from him. He lowers his head, shaking it subtly, and mutters fuck under his breath. Déjà vu hits me from the night in the hotel room, and all the air punches from my lungs. “I don’t want to hurt you any further.”
This is it.
He’s going to end it right here, right now. Doing what I can’t for the life of me do myself. I press the heel of my hand to my chest, trying to press away the ache that sears through me. He runs his hands through his hair, and I tremble in anticipation, waiting for him to continue but hoping he doesn’t. He lifts his head and reluctantly meets my eyes. He is stripped bare—haunted, desolate—the emotion so transparent in his eyes it’s hard to hold his gaze.
And in this moment, it hits me. I realize that I’ve been chastising him for not fighting for me, but has anyone ever really fought for him besides his parents? Not for his material possessions or his notoriety, but for the little boy he was and for the man he is now? For the years of abuse and neglect I’m sure he endured. Has anyone ever told him they love him not despite it but rather because of it? And that all of those experiences combined have in fact made him a better person. A better man. That they accept all of him regardless—every maddening, confusing, heartwarming, piece of him.
I bet no one has.
And as much as I’m hurting and want to lash out at him in return, a part of me wants to leave him with something no one else has ever given him. Something to remember me by.
“For you, Colton…” My voice may be soft when I speak, a resignation to our fate, but my honesty comes through loud and clear. “…I’d take the chance.” I can visibly see his body stiffen at my admission. His lips part slightly and the tension leaves his jaw, as if he is shocked that I’d be willing to take the chance on him. That I believe he’s worth the risk.
He takes a step toward me and reaches a hand out tentatively to frame my jaw. He stares into my eyes with an unfettered intensity, his lips opening several times to say something but closing without a sound. I inhale a sharp breath at the resonance of his touch as he rubs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip—the roughness of his calloused fingers against the softness of my lips. A horrible sadness takes hold when I realize rough and soft is in a way a lot like us.
“For you, Rylee,” he whispers, his voice breaking. His usually steady hands tremble ever so slightly against my cheeks, and I swear I can see fear flicker through his eyes before he blinks away the moisture that pools in them. “I will try.”
He will try? My mind has to switch gears so quickly that I’m left disoriented. Talk about going from an unbelievable low to an unexpected high. “You’ll try?” my broken voice asks, not believing my ears.
Just a trace of the crooked, roguish smile that I find irresistible curves up one side of his mouth, but I can hear the trepidation in his tone. “Yes,” he repeats. His eyes burn into mine until my eyes flutter closed as he leans in and gives me the gentlest, most reverent kiss I’ve ever received. He then kisses the tip of my nose before resting his forehead against mine. His breath whispers against my lips, and his heart pounds a frantic tattoo against my chest all the while my insides are leaping for joy, bubbling over with hope.
Holy shit! Colton is going to try. He is going to fight for us. For me. For him. There is so much unspoken beneath his declaration. So much promise, fear, vulnerability, and willingness to overcome whatever plagues his dreams at night and incessantly haunts his memories—just to try and be with me.
He dips his head down and kisses me again. A slow, soft brush of lips and dance of tongues that is so packed with unspoken words it causes tears to well in my eyes. He finishes by kissing my nose again and then pulling me into him in a crushing embrace. I sigh, welcoming his warmth, his strength, and enjoying how the long, lean line of his body fits perfectly against my curves. I drink in his scent and the sound of his heart beating beneath my ear. He leans his face down, his cheek rubbing against my temple, as he emits a sigh that sounds similar to a muttered oath. And I swear it sounds like he mutters something about a voodoo pussy, but when I snap my head up to look at him, he just shakes head and smirks.
“What am I going to do with you, Rylee?” He holds me tighter, chills dancing up my spine. “What am I going to do?” He sighs again and I suppress a smothered chuckle as I wriggle against him. The mixture of his body on mine, the relief in knowing he is going to try, and the anticipated buildup of the evening has me more than desperate for just a platonic hug in a garden.
How can such a simple statement leave me breathless with anticipation and desperate for his touch—emotionally and physically? He trails a finger down the line of my neck before dipping it down into the bodice and then descending the long torturous path downward, parting the draped slit of my dress to my hypersensitive sex. His deft fingers find me weeping and wanting, and when he touches me I swear I’m ready to splinter into a million pieces of pleasure. I gasp a strangled moan from its effect.
I lean into him, my forehead pressing against his chest, my hands gripping his biceps. I’m not sure if my responsiveness is from Colton’s willingness to try or the onslaught of sensation, but my body climbs the precipice quicker than normal. I am so close. So close to the brink that my nails dig into his arms.
Colton slides his fingers back and forth one more time before emitting a feral growl. “Not yet…I want to be buried in you when you come, Rylee,” he murmurs against the crown of my head. “I’m desperate to be.”
I suck in an audible breath, my muscles so taut and nerves so aware of the feeling of his body against mine that I can’t contain myself. I launch myself at him like an addict needing a fix. One hand grips the back of his neck, automatically fisting his hair, and pulls his face lower so I can meet his mouth. My other hand reaches down to rub the hard length of his growing erection against his slacks. His guttural moan tells me he’s bound with as much need as I am.
I kiss him with a hungry desperation, passion unfurling between us, as I pour everything I’ve been holding back into our melding of mouths. He snakes his hands between his jacket that I’m wearing and my dress, his hands mapping the lines of my backside and hips, inciting a need so strong that it rocks me senseless and leaves me breathless.
“Colton,” I moan as he laces open mouth kisses down the line of my throat, sending earthquakes of sensation rocketing through me.
“Car. Parking garage. Now,” he says between kisses with a teeming desperation, restraint non-existent.
I agree with a non-coherent moan, but my body doesn’t want to let up or let go. His hand fists my hair and pulls it down so my face is forced up. The dark desire that clouds his eyes has my thighs clenching together, begging for relief. “Ry? If we don’t walk right now, you’re going to find yourself bent over that bench right there in plain view of all of these hotel rooms.” His husky warning has me swallowing loudly. He leans down and kisses me chastely, his tongue tracing the line of my bottom lip. “You’ve annihilated my control, sweetheart. Elevator. Now,” he commands.
He pulls me to his side, his hand clamped on my hip as we walk quickly. With his free hand, Colton pulls his iPhone out of his pocket. “Sammy? Where’s Sex?” He listens for a moment. “Perfect. That works.” He laughs loudly, the timbre of it echoing off of the concrete walls we w
alk past. “Like you read my mind. You’re fucking awesome Sammy...Yeah. I’ll let you know.” He slips his phone back in his pocket as we reach a path, and I’m mystified as to the conversation he just had. Colton looks left and then right, weighing his options with a forced urgency before veering right.
Within moments we are in an elevator at the outskirts of a concrete parking garage. The drab grey doors shut, Colton’s presence dominating the small space, and before the elevator starts to move upwards, Colton has me pinned against the wall with his hips and his mouth feasting on mine with a raw carnality. I don’t even have time to catch my breath before the car pings. He drags his mouth from mine, leaving me shaken by his consuming desire.
When we exit the elevator, a giggle escapes my lips. Who in the hell is this girl that I turn into when I’m with Colton? This brazen, wanton woman so sure of her sexuality? I definitely wasn’t her an hour ago. I swear it’s the Colton effect.
I jolt in surprise when we turn the corner and Sammy is standing there. “Hi, Sammy,” I say shyly, for once again he’s seeing me in my Colton-induced path to indecency. He nods at me, his face remaining stoic as he hands a set of keys out to Colton.
“Thanks. All clear?” Colton asks.
“All clear,” Sammy nods before stepping onto the elevator car.
“Come,” Colton commands as he pulls my hand so I land against him forcefully before his lips meet mine again in a greedy kiss. I push him back momentarily despite his protests and glance around at our surroundings to make sure we don’t have an unsuspecting audience. My eyes focus immediately on a sexy-as-sin, sleek, red sports car in the far corner. I’m not really into cars, but all I know is that if that’s her name? It most definitely fits her.
When I pull my eyes away from the car, I’m surprised to find the monochromatic garage completely vacant. “How’d…?” Colton just smirks at me with that it’s good to be me kind of smirk and I shake my head. “Sammy?”
“Mmm-hmm.” His hand roams up my waist and cups my breast through my dress. I exhale a soft moan at the muted sensation, wanting his body, naked and moving, on mine. In mine.
“Oh, Colton…” I sigh, turning into putty in his hands as his finger dips beneath the fabric. “That man needs a raise,” I murmur as we pseudo-walk, pseudo-grope each other across the desolate garage. Colton laughs loudly at my comment, the sound mixed with the click of my heels echoing off of the walls. I push away the niggling feeling in my head that I wonder just what else Sammy has seen under Colton’s employment. That was the past. His past.
And now, he’s my future. All that matters now is that Colton’s willing to try.
We reach the car, relief that we can get out of here flooding through me. Right now I’m being selfish. I’m not thinking about the gala below or my charity or anything. All I can focus on is the feelings coursing through me. The ones I need met as I steer our bodies toward the passenger side.
But Colton stands still—doesn’t budge—just keeps my hand in his, our arms outstretched from the connection. I look over at him, his eyes trailing over the front of his car and then looking back to me. The lascivious smirk that turns up the corners of his mouth rocks my world off its balance. “Uh-uh,” he tells me, confusion filling me.
What? Now he doesn’t want to…oh… Oh! Oh fuck!
He recognizes the minute I understand his intention. “You. Here. ” He points to the sleek, red hood of his car. I blush and hesitate, remembering my off the cuff comment in Starbucks that now feels likes years ago about how I wanted to take him on the hood of his car.
“Now!” He growls.
Me and my big mouth. I glance around and swallow before my eyes come back to meet his. Always back to his. “Here?”
“Here.” He smirks as a thrill chases through me. “I’m gonna corrupt you yet.”
“But…”
“Don’t question it, Rylee. If you obey all the rules, baby, you miss all of the fun.” Only Colton could quote Hepburn at a time like this and make it sound seductively sexy.
His eyes dance with the thrill of what we are about to do. There is no way in hell that I am going to pass up the chance to be with him. After everything tonight—the limo, the buildup of anticipation, the fact that he’ll try—wild horses couldn’t drag me away.
I don’t even have a moment to be concerned with our location because he grabs me and brands his lips to mine. I can taste his desire. His hunger. His impatience. His willingness. Their mixture is a heady combination that sends chills up my spine and causes goose bumps to cover my skin as he leads me backwards. Our lips part only for him to whisper the naughty promises of what he wants to do to me.
How hard he’s going to fuck me. How loud he wants me to scream. How many times he plans on making me come. How insanely beautiful I am. How he craves the taste me.
The backs of my knees hit the front bumper of the car, and he slips his jacket off of my shoulders. He takes the jacket and lays it inside out on the hood of his car behind me as I fumble with the zipper on his pants, my dexterity ruined by the liquid heat that fills me.
“Hurry,” he demands, his voice laced with anguished need.
I laugh, hysterics tingeing the sound from my desperation. His hands still as he pulls back from our close proximity and looks into my eyes. A moment of calm amidst our storm of need. He reaches up and runs his fingers down my cheek, a smile of disbelief on his face and a look in his eyes—one that says he can’t believe I’m real. That this is real. He shakes his head and his mouth curls up to one side, his dimple winking. And with his eyes locked on mine, he runs his hand back to my hair and fists it, angling my head to the side, exposing the curve of my neck.
And then need and desire take over as he lowers his mouth to that expanse of bare skin. The feelings, the sensations, the emotions pull me under, consume me.
My eyes close. My body softens and heats up simultaneously. I feel Colton pulse against my hands and they spring to life, finally working so I can pull his pants down far enough to release his engorged length. He hisses out an incoherent litany in appreciation as my fingers encircle him and dance over his heated flesh.
“Rylee. Please. Now.” He pants between open mouth kisses. My hands continue their pleasurable torture as I feel Colton’s hand bunch the length of my dress up until his hands are beneath it, cupping my bare ass in both of his hands.
I feel the warmth of Colton’s fingertips as they part my legs, and I tense, knowing that his touch is all I’ll need to push me over the edge. His fingers smooth across my skin, and his deft fingers find their destination, making me cry out as they tease and torment.
My nails dig into his shoulders as my legs start shaking from the mounting pressure within me. “Colton.” I breathe as pleasure rakes over me, a low keening in the back of my throat the only other sound I can make as he pushes me higher and higher. His mouth catches mine again as I throw my head up, the heat from his skillful fingertips ripping through me and searing every imaginable nerve in my body. My fire ignites as he slips two fingers in to invade the depths of my sex with one hand while the other grips my hip possessively. Fervent fingers digging into willing flesh. I’m so worked up—so on the cusp—that it doesn’t take long until I crash over the edge into a rapturous free fall.
All of the anticipation, flirting, highs, and lows from the night intensify the mix of sensations that splinter through me. Colton brings a hand up to cup my neck with one hand, his thumb resting just under my chin as my eyes flutter open. The simple brush of his thumb there is like adding gasoline to a roaring fire. My body tenses again as another ripple of pleasure pulses through me, all the while his gaze on mine.
Colton’s eyes flicker and flame with lust as he watches me regain some semblance of equilibrium from the earth he just helped to move beneath my feet. Before I can even comprehend what’s happening, Colton’s control snaps, and he pushes me back on to his jacket on the cool, polished metal of his hood. He grabs my hips, pushing my dress up so I am clothed fr
om the waist up and bare from the waist down, except for garters and stockings. He lifts my hips up to meet the height of his so that just my shoulders and neck are resting on the cool silk of his jacket.
His eyes roam over my bared flesh. “Sweet Christ, woman,” his voice husky with desire murmurs as I close my eyes to revel in the need he’s about to fill because even though I’ve come, my body is aching so desperately to have him in me, filling me, and stretching me to sublime satisfaction. “Open your eyes, Rylee,” he commands as he places his steely head at my entrance. I gasp at the feeling, needing more. Always needing more and never being able to get enough of him. “I want to watch you while I take you. I want to see those eyes of yours turn hazy with desire.”
My eyes flash open to lock on his. My mouth goes dry from the absolute lust reflected in them. In this moment, the calm before the storm, I am irrevocably his.
I cry out in unison with his guttural groan as he enters me in one slick thrust, holding himself deep as he grinds his hips against my pelvis. The heels of my shoes dig into his backside as I tense at his invasion, my slick channel clenching onto him with every swivel of his hips. “Oh, Rylee.” He grunts, his head thrown back, lips parted, and face pulled tight with pleasure.
He starts moving now. Really moving. Fitting himself to me—in me—so that each drive devastates my senses. All I can do is absorb the impossible sensations he draws out of me with each thrust, ride out the blistering onslaught with him.
The jacket beneath me serves as a slide of sorts. With each drive I glide back and up the hood, only to be pulled back onto him to start the delicious descent and thrust back up all over again. The motion causes a myriad of overwhelming sensations that only serves to coax my orgasm to come faster. Harder. Quicker.
My muscles clench around him as I lift my head to watch our union. To see my arousal coating him as he withdraws from me before plunging back in. And the sight of what I do to him, of what he does to me, is unbelievably hot. “Colton,” I moan in a stilted breath as one of his fingertips grazes over my clit. My body shudders from his touch.