Driven Collection

by K. Bromberg

  The house is filled with nothing but the sounds of our slick flesh hitting each other, our gasping breaths, impassioned pleas between each other, and cries of ecstasy. I can feel the surge building inside of me, my channel tightening around him as he pistons in and out, each iron-hard inch of him hitting every one of my nerves. But I can also see a man on the verge of losing control and finding release as Colton lets go of my hands and braces himself on his elbows, hovering over me. He thrusts one last time before he yells out my name and then suddenly he pulls out of me.

  My body clenches at the unexpected emptiness as Colton buries his head against my chest. His body convulses with his climax. In his hand? I’m confused. He groans from the violent pleasure that is shooting through his body. I can feel the tension ease out of his body and the warm caress of his lips on my bare flesh. His touch makes my body squirm as my nerves tingle with the loss of my anticipated orgasm.

  I can feel his smile press against my abdomen and as if he can hear me thinking, he murmurs, “I want you to come for me, Rylee. I want to see how sweet you taste.”

  Oh! My mind processes the reason for his sudden withdrawal. His mouth. On me. “Colton…”

  “Shh-shh-shh,” he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my lobe. I arch my head back, scraping my nails across his back. He hisses at my touch as he lays a row of kisses down my neck and around to the other ear. “You’ve teased me all night, Rylee,” his voice rasps, hoarse with desire. “Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

  A chill runs down my back and it has nothing to do with the cold granite that I’m laid out on. Colton’s body flanks me but I feel his hand stretch out and hear the crinkling of a bag beyond my head. I turn my head up to see what he is doing and Colton’s other hand holds steadfast to my jaw. “Uh-uh-uh,” he warns. “Keep your head still. I wouldn’t want you ruining the surprise.”

  “Colton?” I furrow my brow, curious at what he’s talking about despite my body being on high alert from his words. I’m not exactly good with surprises, especially not when I’m naked and vulnerable.

  He chuckles, deep and sexy. “That’s going to be hard for you, isn’t it?” When I don’t respond, he lifts up on an elbow and regards me momentarily. “I think it’s time you stopped thinking, Rylee. Stopped trying to figure what’s ten steps ahead when we’re only just getting started.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “Stay here, Rylee. Don’t move. Understood?”

  The authoritative tone of his voice turns me on. His reasoning behind it unnerves me. His weight lifts off of me, and I can hear him pad out of the kitchen. A drawer opens and closes. Apprehension fills me. For the carefree girl inside of me dying to get out, the anticipation is thrilling. For the control freak in me, the disquiet is unwelcome. Do I trust him? Yes. Without a doubt. Why? I’m unsure, and that scares the crap out of me.

  I hear him return to the kitchen, and he leans over me, a lascivious smile curling the corners of his lips. “Do you know how gorgeous you look right now?” I don’t respond but rather bite my lip as I feel his fingers suddenly at my cleft. They part me and slowly trail up and down. I arch up to meet his touch. He immediately pulls his hand away.

  “Colton—”

  “Uh-uh, Rylee,” he teases. “I’m in control. Right here and right now.” I flutter my eyelids as I look up to meet his eyes. My heart hammers in my chest at his words. My nipples tighten at the thought. Fear tingeing the edges of my Colton-induced haze. Handing my control over to someone else is a disconcerting notion. Submitting without a thought even more so.

  “Stop thinking, baby,” he whispers as he pulls my hands above my head. “I want to take all control from you so that the only thing your mind can do is feel. You won’t be able to think five steps in front when you’re not the one making the moves now, will you?”

  Oh fuck! What is he— My thoughts are obliterated when he crushes his mouth to mine. I wiggle to move my hands and he laughs as we kiss. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you’re going to learn that sometimes, not being in control is extremely liberating.” He loops something around my wrists and binds them around the faucet at the other end of the island. As I register what he’s done, as I start to realize how practiced that move was and how many times before he’s done it, my world goes black as he slips a blindfold over my eyes. I gasp. “Time to take your own advice, Rylee.”

  What? When did I ever say tie me up and take advantage of me?

  “You told me to close my eyes on the Tilt-A-Whirl. That it heightens the sensation.” The pad of his thumb traces the outline of my lips.

  Oh crap! Me and my big mouth.

  Something soft but slightly coarse runs over my stomach and up my torso to circle around my nipples. I suck in a breath as whatever he has strokes me lightly down the tops of my legs and then up one inner thigh and down the other. My sex clenches from its touch, desperate for something to help ease the blistering ache. The only thing that touches my body is this object. The only sound I hear is my own breath. The anticipation that builds within me is profound as he continues his slow, tantalizing torture of my senses.

  I’ve never needed a man’s touch in my life as much as I do at this moment. My next thought is only where he’ll touch me next. There is nothing to do but focus on the sensations. My nerves are on edge awaiting his contact with my body. He has succeeded in making me forget what step ten will be, but rather revel in the step I’m in. I’ve lost all sense of my surroundings. Nothing else exists in this moment except for him, my desperation for his touch, and my body’s craving for release.

  Colton is absolutely silent except for the barely audible rush of air I hear escape his mouth in response to my body’s reaction to the delicious torment of his sensual sensory deprivation.

  Colton stops at my right breast, and before I can place the sensation, he touches me for the first time by capturing my nipple in his mouth. I buck my hips wildly at the warmth of his mouth on my sensitive bud.

  “Colton!” I cry out, tugging my hands against my bindings, wanting to touch him. Wanting to thread my fingers in his hair and hold him against me.

  He tugs on my nipple with a gentle pull of his teeth and then the warmth of his mouth is gone only to be felt again on my other breast. I feel the strange object circling around it before his mouth closes over it again. He groans softly. “Tasty,” he murmurs against me, and I realize he’s teasing me about the cotton candy.

  I start to speak and am stopped as his mouth closes over mine, the sweet sugary taste on his tongue. It’s a soft, tender kiss. A gradual easing of lips and tongue that lacks urgency yet screams of desperation. His lips travel down my exposed neck and back up, nipping at my earlobe. A slow and welcome torture that is making me want like never before.

  I can feel the cotton candy slowly move down my torso to my sex. The confection leaves my skin, and I feel his fingers roaming over me, caressing my folds, and catering to my body’s addiction to his touch. I gasp as we kiss and Colton takes in my voracious moan of desire. He skillfully teases me with his dexterous fingertips, and I push my pelvis against his hand, wanting more. Needing the friction to inch me closer to the edge.

  I hiss out a breath as he parts me, very slowly slipping a finger into my core. Heat flashes through me as I feel my muscles tighten around him, clenching as fire burns through my veins. He cups me, leisurely rocking his hand as his thumb finds and stimulates my nub of nerve endings. He withdraws his finger and then slowly tucks two back into me. He curves them, rubbing against the sensitive spot deep inside, his fingers and tongue mimicking each other as he intensifies his pace. I fist my hands inside my bindings, my nails digging into my palms, as he quickens the rhythm.

  I am so gloriously close to crashing into the oblivion and then, all of a sudden, I’m not. Colton has withdrawn from me. I cry out his name in frustration. In desperation. I hear a low, rumbling chuckle from him. “Not yet, sweetheart. Turnabout’s fair play,” he croons in my ear. “I want to drive
you crazy like you do me.” I feel a softness tickle my lips and I open them, accepting the sweet bite of cotton candy on my tongue. “I want to drive you to the crest, Rylee. Take you to the brink so that your only thought is of me. So that you cry out my name when your body detonates into a million splinters of pleasure.”

  His hypnotic words entrance me. Seduce me. And without a hint of what’s next, Colton’s mouth closes over my clit as he slips two fingers back into me. I call out inarticulately at the exquisite pleasure that pulses through me. He sucks, gently teasing me until my legs tighten impatiently. His fingers slowly press in and out of my channel, rubbing, teasing, and urging me higher. I lift my hips to him, reeling from his manipulation, but still wanting more. I pant in need then moan in ecstasy as I feel the quickening start to build again beneath his touch. I am so close. Within a few grazes of my climax, Colton abruptly withdraws his mouth. His fingers remain, yet stay motionless within me.

  Damn him! My chest heaves for air as my body stays wound tight, waiting for the slightest movement to set me off. “Greedy little girl,” he admonishes, his breath whispering over my slick flesh. “I may have to rectify this.” And before he can finish his last word, he withdraws his fingers and slams into me, burying himself to the hilt in my heated depth.

  “Oh God, Colton!” The sudden fullness, the unexpected stroke, makes me writhe against the granite slab.

  Colton eases out of me slowly before plunging back in. He continues this slow withdrawal followed by his greedy drive back in, setting a delirious pace that pushes me to the edge. “Come for me, Rylee!” he growls at me.

  His words are my undoing. My breath quickens. My pulse races. My muscles tense. My hips grind into him, deepening the burning ache until I am pushed over the edge. I explode like a firecracker. A white-hot heat flits though my body. Sensation shatters around me as the first wave of my orgasm explodes. I incoherently yell out as I pulse around him. He stills, allowing me to absorb the intensity of my climax. I release the breath I’ve been holding, my taut muscles slowly relaxing before another wave shudders through me.

  This wave is more than he can bear. My muscles milk his orgasm out of him. He rears back and pushes into me a few more times, my body gripping his. He yells out my name, his own climax tearing through him, and his hips jerking against me until I can feel his warmth erupt within me.

  He collapses on top of me, pressing his face into the curve of my neck. Our chests heave in uneven unison, and I can feel his lips form a smile. My breath shudders as I exhale, the frantic tattoo of my heart beginning to ebb. That was … Wow! I go to remove the blindfold and remember that my hands are still tied.

  I wiggle underneath him. He laughs into my neck, the vibration of it seeping into my chest. “I take it you want your hands back?”

  “Hmm-hmmm.” I don’t think I can speak. My body is still processing what has just happened.

  He lifts up and I can feel his hands tugging at my bindings. When one hand is free, I reach down and pull off my blindfold, my eyes easily adjusting to the dimmed light in the kitchen. Colton’s face is above me, etched in concentration as he works the other knot free. I see the lines ease as my other hand releases from what appears to be a velvet braided rope.

  I reach up to run my hands over his cheeks as he looks down at me, an errant lock of hair falling over his forehead. A shy smile lights up his face. I lift my head and brush a soft kiss against his lips, the only way I can express how I feel, how much what just happened meant to me without having him run for the hills.

  I lay my head back down, yet Colton’s eyes remain closed, the corners of his mouth still smiling. He shakes his head subtly before opening his eyes and easing his weight off of me. “C’mon,” he says, pulling me up by my arms, “This can’t be all too comfortable for you.”

  I hop off of the counter, suddenly feeling modest about my nudity. I look around for my clothes as Colton pulls his jeans up over his naked hips. I put my arms through my bra straps as I watch him button up the first four buttons, leaving the top one undone. I have to stifle a sigh as I stare at him naked from the waist up in appreciation.

  I hook my bra together and drag my shirt over my head. I start to run my fingers through my disheveled hair but stop when I catch more than just a glimpse of the tattoos that line the side of his torso. I’ve never really been able to see the whole of them, so I take a moment to look. Four symbols run vertically down his side, all are similar in style. The first three images are solid, the ink filled in completely while the fourth is just an outline. I angle my head, trying to figure out what exactly they are of when Colton looks up and sees my questioning look.

  “WHAT ARE YOUR TATTOOS OF?”

  He turns his body and raises his arm so that I can see the markings. “They’re Celtic knots.”

  “What do they mean?”

  “Nothing really,” he says gruffly, busying himself by opening the refrigerator, which I notice is almost empty, and grabbing a beer.

  “C’mon,” I prod, curious about why he is suddenly avoiding the question when he’s been so forthcoming all evening. He holds a beer out to me and I shake my head no. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who marks himself permanently without having a reason.”

  I lean against the counter with my shirt and panties on as he takes a long tug on the beer, his eyes meet mine over the bottom of the bottle. He slides them down the length of my bare legs and back up to my eyes. “The knots mean different things.” He lifts his arm again to show me as I move near him. He points to the first one just below his armpit. “This one means to overcome some type of adversity in life.” He moves to the next one. “This is the symbol for acceptance. This one is for healing, and the bottom one’s for vengeance.” He looks up slowly, a darkness in his eyes as they hold mine, waiting for my reaction. Waiting for me to ask why he needs acceptance, healing, and vengeance. We stand silently until he sighs, shaking his head at me, disbelieving that he’s said so much.

  I step toward him, reach out tentatively, and run my fingers down the four symbols on his body, their meanings resonating in me, telling me somehow, someway they are a marker of his past and where he is in terms of dealing with it. His body shivers at my touch.

  “They suit you,” I whisper, trying to convey to him that I understand. “Did you get them all at once? Why are three colored in and not the fourth?”

  He shrugs away from me, taking another drink from his beer. “No.” That’s all he gives me, and his tone tells me that that’s the end of the conversation.

  “You’re Irish then?”

  “So my Dad tells me.”

  Mr. Forthcoming. I guess he is done talking about him for the night. The theoretical switch has been flipped, and I’m back trying to catch up to his mercurial mood swings. What now? Does he drive me home? Do I stay the night? Do I get a cab? Unsettled, I pick up my pants and tug them on, struggling to appear coordinated as my ankle gets caught in the cuff. I can feel the heat of his gaze as he watches me although I dare not look up.

  “So, Colton …” I look up as I finish buttoning my jeans to see him watching me as I’d thought, an amused smirk on his face and his eyebrows raised. He may be experienced in the protocol of this type of thing, but I sure am not. My cheeks flush. I search for something to talk about, something that will abate my anxiety until he gives me some kind of indication about what I do from here. “The boys are really looking forward to going to the track when you test the car.” He snorts, his head bobbing back and forth, before he stifles a laugh. “What?” I ask, confused by his reaction.

  “All business now, are we?” I eye him carefully as he walks toward me, wary of the predatory look in his eyes. “How is it that ten minutes ago you were naked and compliant beneath me and now you’re nervous and uncomfortable just being in the same space as me?” Probably because you dominate any space you occupy. He reaches out to tug one of my curls. His emerald eyes darken as he watches me. “Am I that scary of a guy, Rylee?”

 
Shit. I have to work harder at not wearing my emotions on my sleeve. “I’m not nervous.” My over-emphatic answer a dead give away that I’m lying.

  “Oh, Rylee, it’s not exactly polite to lie when some of me is still in you.”

  My blush darkens. Well, when he puts it that way … “I’m not lying. I just wanted to—to—uh get the dates so that I can tell the boys.”

  He raises his eyebrows, a knowing smile on his lips. I’m a horrible liar, and I know he can see right through mine. “What an apropos time to ask.” He smirks. “Well...” he reaches out and cups my neck, laying a tender kiss on my lips “...my day planner’s at home. I’ll have to text you the dates.”

  I open my eyes from his kiss as I process his words. What? I feel his body tense once he’s realized what he said. Did I miss something? I snap my eyes up to his and he takes a cautious step back from me. The look on his face is indiscernible.

  “Is this not your house?” I shake my head. “What am I missing here?”

  Colton runs a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. “It’s my place. I just don’t stay here that often.” His expression is guarded, tension in the lines around his mouth. His uneasiness unnerves me.

  “Oh. Okay. Where else do you …?” And it hits me. The wrong key in the door. The fumbling with the alarm code. The inability to find something in the kitchen cupboards. The empty refrigerator. Colton saying that he shouldn’t have brought me here. How could I be so naïve? I raise my eyes to meet Colton’s and he knows that I know. The look on his face says it all. I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “So, this is your place, but not exactly where you live.” I slowly annunciate every word. “It’s where you bring all your dates, escorts, whatever you call them, to fuck.” I choke on the last word. “Right?”