by Alexis Anne
I was beginning to understand Colt more and more. If I was right, and I was pretty sure I was, Colt rarely got the opportunity to do what he wanted. His work was an obligation he felt compelled to perform well, but it wasn’t his passion. What he needed was a safe space for him to lose control, put down his responsibilities, and see in the moment the result of his passion . . . that was what he needed more than anything else.
“Close your eyes.” He waited until I did. “Tell me what you feel.”
“I feel your big cock.”
I could practically hear his grimace. “I don’t want dirty talk and I don’t want you to stroke my ego . . . just my dick, thank you very much. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.”
So this wasn’t a game. Understood. “My heart is racing.”
He placed his hand over my heart. “Good. What else?”
“I’m throbbing around you. You’re a lot. Different. It feels good.”
He rocked deeper into me. “What else?”
“My nipples are tingling.”
He moved his hand down to cup my breast. “You’re beautiful, Annie. Truly beautiful.”
I couldn’t keep my eyes closed. I needed to see him so I could know what emotion went with those words. His hand trailed down my stomach, over my hip, and up my leg.
“You’re strong. I like that.”
“I like knowing I can take care of myself.” Something I’d never confessed to anyone about my workouts. Everyone always assumed it was for my Hollywood perfect body. And that was important, for sure. Part of being an actress was fitting a visual mold to tell a story. I accepted a certain amount of attention to my looks when I decided to follow in my family legacy, but that wasn’t why I lifted heavy or ran marathons.
I did that to feel safe.
“I like knowing you can take care of yourself.” He dipped down and stole a quick kiss, his eyes locked on my lips with a furrow on his brow as he slowly forced himself to look back into my eyes. “I can hear how important it is in your voice. I hate knowing anyone has ever made you feel unsafe.” The look in his eyes took my breath away. The absolute anger and despair. It was too much.
“Kiss me.”
He nodded quickly, realizing how fast the situation was spinning out of control. Maybe if we kissed we could wipe away the feelings and situations we couldn’t change. A kiss could do that, couldn’t it? It was that powerful. It said what I couldn’t.
I felt safe with Colt, even though it was too soon. He had already given me a sense of security when I was with him and a need to feed off that assuredness.
It didn’t make sense, and yet it was how I felt.
He rocked into me over and over, his strokes growing longer and more urgent. He held me close and I swear it was because he didn’t want to let me go. I loved watching the sweat form on his brow, the muscles of his shoulders flex. Our bodies moved together, working to find pleasure that could wipe away all the pain.
It was all too much.
“Faster, Colt.”
He quickened his strokes, his grip almost bruising as he held me.
“Harder.”
He gritted his teeth as he pushed up, searching for more room. “Jesus, Annie.”
I felt it too. The heat, the sweat, the need for release. We were both wound up tight and desperate for the fall. He slammed into me, the force stimulating everything all at once.
It kick started my orgasm and I latched onto Colt for dear life as it tore through me.
“Fuck, yes. That’s right, babe.” He worked me until I was absolutely spent, finally slowing to drop kisses and murmur words of praise. “That was amazing. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“Just to feel you come.”
He laughed. “Are you sure you’re ready? Enjoy this.”
He was sweet and I appreciated it, but that wasn’t what I’d wanted. I grabbed the hair on the back of his head and pulled him down. “I want to feel you come, Colt. I want to watch you lose control.”
His whole expression grew dark and I realized it was with unchecked want. With his hand on my hip he thrust hard and deep. “You’re sure?”
“God yes. Please. Let it all go. I can handle it.”
He thrust again, even harder and deeper, testing me. When I didn’t flinch he pumped faster, moved his hands to my shoulders and changed positions. “You’re all right?”
“I’m wonderful.”
That’s when he finally let his last worries go and gave in to the needs of his body. I’d never been fucked so hard before.
I’d never cared one way or the other about hard sex, but with Colt it was addictive. He needed an outlet and watching that transformation as his orgasm took over, the absolute pleasure in his release, I knew right then that I would always be addicted to giving a man like Colt the one thing he needed most.
* * *
“IN MY DARKEST NIGHT, in my darkest hour, it was only then that my eyes could see the flicker.”
“That’s beautiful.” I rested my head on his chest. “What’s it from?”
“Darkest Before Dawn, a collection of poems and short stories by G. Breeze—obviously a pen name.”
He really knew poetry. I died a little inside. “Tell me more.” This had to be heaven. Amazing sex followed by poetry, all while resting on an incredibly sexy man’s chest? Yep. Pretty sure I was dead and by some grace of the universe, granted admission to heaven.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Let’s see,” he fumbled around, reaching onto the floor for his pants, and pulled out his phone. “I’ll read you one of my favorites, how about that?” He began stroking his free hand through my hair.
“Sounds amazing.”
In the silence I got to really appreciate the subtlety of the situation. The only sound was our breathing and the waves outside. The only light came from his phone and the moon. Colt was strong, sexy, and fully capable of making me come over and over again—something that seemed to turn him on as much as it pleasured me.
“I was alone when before I was not. I was empty when once I was overflowing,” he said, his voice low and rough, “My heart forgot how to beat until it was you and me. Strange to know sadness, but even stranger still to know happiness when I never wanted to feel it again. Your love is a distant echo that is being shouted back at me in someone new. This time it is different. This time I am different. This is something new.”
He set down his phone and sighed.
I didn’t say anything and neither did he. I wondered if he was as lost in the words as I was. They were beautiful and haunting all at the same time. It made me wonder who Colt had lost to make a poem like that resonate so strongly with him.
This is something new. But it wouldn’t last, so did it matter? “Read me another.”
He chuckled. “In need of deep thoughts after all that exercise?” I burrowed deeper into his comforting chest and he turned so that we were spooning, his much larger body wrapped around mine as he nuzzled behind my ear. “Or do you just love poetry?”
“Both.” I turned so that I could see his eyes when I spoke. I felt like something important was happening. They way he was with me . . . it was rough but tender . . . and I really wanted more of that in my life. “I just want to lay here and have this night never end, but I also really like hearing you read words that have so much meaning.”
He gave me a quick nod, looking as overwhelmed as I felt. “Then more words you shall have.” He cleared his throat and adjusted until we were both comfortable before he read me another poem.
Five more and I was dosing off in his arms, blissfully happy that he’d let his guard down long enough to let me in.
I only hoped we didn’t hurt each other before our time at the Westerly was over.
* * *
“OH GOD! YES!” I practically screamed. Colt had my hands pinned above my head as he flicked my nipples with his tongue. This was after he teased my clit with his magical tongue—stopping just short of letting me com
e.
Now he was enjoying the dichotomy of doing everything I begged for, all while refusing to let me move.
It was barely morning but we were both awake and hungry to make the most of the day.
And so far it was proving to be most productive. I learned that Colt was an early riser who enjoyed starting his day with sex, something I was more than fine with since it came with generous amounts of foreplay designed to turn me into a writhing, begging, sex machine.
We also learned that Colt enjoyed playing games with control—giving it, taking it—basically toying with the entire concept. I was sure it had plenty to do with the stress he coped with every day, and since I was managing many of the same problems, it was equally delightful for me.
And at the moment the interplay of telling Colt what to do while not being allowed to move was lighting up all of my senses.
“Not good enough,” he murmured. “I can’t move around the way I want. Hold still.” He disappeared, leaving me aching and unsatisfied.
I yawned and stretched, enjoying the way it felt to be woken up with exercise that was actually fun. None of this personal trainer bullshit. Colt could be my new trainer . . . if it weren’t for that pesky busy life situation we both had to deal with.
Pity.
He returned with a bathrobe and grin. He bounced his eyebrows. “Do you trust me?”
Such a change from the day before. “Of course.”
“Good. You won’t regret it.”
He tied my hands to the headboard, then dove between my legs with his hands on my breasts. I bucked off the bed, losing my mind because I was feeling too many good things all at once.
The fact that I couldn’t touch him drove me insane with want.
“That’s right,” he whispered, “you’re right there aren’t you?”
“Yes.” My body was clay, ready for him to mold in any way he wished.
He freed my hands and flipped me over. “On your knees, babe.”
He was going to take me from behind. Deep and rough. The way he already knew I liked it. The way I already knew he liked it. I think it was because it was that little bit deeper, that little bit wilder. He could use his hands and take me, and I loved that feeling of him losing all control. Knowing that it was me that provided him that escape? Well it was a turn-on all together different from anything he could ever do to me physically.
He positioned his tip at my entrance. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Before I even had the short word out he was inside me. Taking me as deep as he could in a single stroke, before pulling out and plunging even deeper.
I cried out at the rough invasion. “Yes. More! Faster.”
He slid his hands down my back and then around my hips, latching on, before he really began to move. His cries were primal, possessive. I expected him to ride us both straight into oblivion but instead he slowed to a stop and pulled out.
“I want to watch you,” he murmured in my ear. His breath danced along my skin. “I want you to use me.” He lay down below me and guided me over his cock. “Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”
This constant swapping of power gave me whiplash, and yet I loved it. Somehow I was in charge now, hot and on the verge of a powerful orgasm, as I sank down on his cock.
It was long and thick and yet somehow perfect. “Fits like a glove” was the term that came to mind. It wasn’t the biggest I’d ever seen, but it was not small. Oh no. Colt was perfect. As if he were made to fit me.
I wouldn’t last long, not with what he’d done to me already, but I put on a show with the time that I had. I made sure he could enjoy my body and he took full advantage, caressing my hips and breasts, pinching my nipples, grabbing my hair when I came close, and kissing me until I saw stars that turned into fireworks.
“I’m coming, Colt.” My inner muscles held him tight before bursting like a damn with little waves of flutters. “I’m coming.”
He held me up, eyes locked on mine in fascination. His hands fisted in my hair as he drank me in, his hips thrusting up, meeting my orgasm until his took over, sending us both crashing into each other in a way that felt strangely . . . right.
CHAPTER 5
I’m not a morning person. I could spend hours in bed drifting in and out of sleep if I were allowed to. And sometimes I could do that. When I was between projects I slept like crazy to make up for the long days on set.
In case anyone was wondering, action flicks are no joke. You film in the dead of night, at dawn, all day, soaking wet, under water, climbing . . . you name it, I’ve done it. On almost no sleep.
It took me a couple of days, but now that I was fully in vacation mode, I’d been sleeping later and later.
And well, after the gymnastics Colt put us through last night and early this morning . . . well lets just say I wasn’t in a hurry to open my eyes. I was so warm, so comfortable. I might as well have been sleeping on a cloud under the bright blanket of the sun.
“Hey beautiful? Can you let me up?”
I heard the voice but I ignored it. Anything that disturbed this type of perfection couldn’t be worth it.
“Annie,” the voice chuckled. “C’mon.” Then there was some wiggling as I was gently moved from my warm pillow to something much less wonderful.
A real pillow.
My eyes shot open as I realized Colt had been my cloud. I focused just as he disappeared into my bathroom. Whoa.
“Do you want some breakfast? My treat?” he called, the sound of the sink running in the background.
My stomach grumbled on command. “Um, sure?” I was starving.
He laughed again, appearing in the doorway. “You don’t have to sound so unsure. You either want me to stick around and have some breakfast or you want me to beat it out of here so you can be rid of me.” He shot me a teasing grin.
I licked my lips as I took in the sight of him. The way his biceps flexed as he dried his hands on the bright white hotel towel, the dip and curve of his abs and hips. Maybe he’d let me eat breakfast right off of his muscles . . .
“Breakfast sounds good.” My voice came out as a croak, so I cleared it, hoping it sounded like it came from waking up and not the heat roaring through my body.
“Good. I’m having fun.” He waited.
“I am too.”
I swear he let out a sigh of relief. “Maybe you’d be up for a little adventure later today?”
“What kind of adventure?” I barely knew him. “Adventure” could be code for just about anything.
He shrugged his wide shoulders, tossing the towel backward into the bathroom as he started towards me. “The kind that involves a picnic and a waterfall. The concierge told me there’s a really easy hike up to the falls and that they only schedule one party at a time to use the trail so . . . ”
“We’d have the place all to ourselves.”
“This resort is worth every fucking penny.” He jumped back into bed and immediately pulled me onto his chest where I’d so happily been dozing only a few minutes ago. I somehow managed to find the exact same spot in the crook of his arm. It was every bit as comfortable the second time around.
“What do you like? Coffee or juice? Eggs?” He rattled off the menu we’d both been eating from all week and I told him exactly what I wanted.
A minute later he ordered from the bedside phone. “Fifteen minutes?” He rested his hand on my hip and pulled me a little bit closer to him. It sent a thrill through me. “Sounds perfect. Thank you Juliana.” He reached back to hang up the phone, his fingers curling into my hip and holding me tight as he did so.
Then he wrapped his other arm around me and let out a sigh. “This is perfect. What a great way to wakeup.”
I burrowed into him and closed my eyes. Perfect. That’s exactly what it was. The kind of perfect I’d wanted my whole life. And here I was giving him a fake name, bending the details of my life, and making sure he understood it was over when my plane took off.
I was
a special kind of crazy to throw away perfect right from the beginning.
* * *
I HAD this memory from when I was a kid. I was eight or nine and it was the most beautiful day outside. The sky was bright blue, there were no clouds, and only the faintest cool breeze in the warm air. I could still remember exactly how I felt looking up at that sky. It was like I could feel the colors, taste flavors in the air. Words and thoughts bounced around in my head for the very first time—bouncing with no where to go.
So I began to act them out. Words became sentences. Sentences became paragraphs. I made a costume out of a nightgown and crown out of bobby pins.
I had a story to tell.
For the very first time I had a story and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
Fast forward twenty years and nothing had changed.
Well, except for understanding that no matter what I wrote or how well I acted, my name overshadowed everything. It wasn’t about the art or the story. Oh no, those were mere details when it came to marketing and box office predictions.
“Emily has assured me they are taking this seriously,” Ted said the minute the call ended. It was his daily check-in call with his production company and since his company was working with Holt Pictures to produce The Price of Love, he’d taken the opportunity to check on my status with casting.
“But?”
“But they haven’t had time to work on casting Jacqueline’s part yet. Emily said your agent should expect a call in the next day.”
Yes. I let out a slow breath. “Thank you, Ted. I owe you for this one.”
“You owe me nothing. This is what friends do. We work the system.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “Besides, I’ll never repay you. So this is nothing.”
I froze as the memories of that night hit me hard, mostly because Ted never spoke of it. Not ever. We agreed it was something neither of us wanted to remember and the best way to do that was to erase it from existence. Mentioning it, even casually and without name, was still more than I ever wanted to hear ever again. So instead of replying I sat quietly, searching for something—anything—else to say. “I’m going hiking.”