Driven

by K. Bromberg

  I clench my muscles around him, gripping him reflexively as I push my torso up to allow me to see where our bodies are now joined as one.

  “Sweet Jesus, Rylee,” he warns, “You do that again, I’m gonna come right now.”

  I smile wantonly at him as he slowly starts to move. He pulls out all the way to the tip and then slowly slides his luscious length back in me. The feeling is exquisite and I fall back on the bed, allowing the sensation of my slick walls being penetrated to take over. I wrap my thighs around his hips as he starts to pick up the pace. His muscles ripple beneath his tanned skin as he moves with me. His eyes flick back and forth between mine and watching our union.

  I can feel the warmth starting to spread through me again as my body arches into the friction of his length rubbing my patch of nerves inside. My walls bear down on him, tightening, and milking his cock as his rhythm increases.

  He leans over me, balancing his weight on his forearms beside my head and takes my mouth with his in a carnal, no-holds-barred kiss. Teeth nip, lips suck, tongues meld. I hook my arms under his shoulders and tighten my legs around his hips, locking my feet at the ankles. I need to get as close as I can to him. Need him to be as deep as he can be in me. Need to feel his sweat-slicked skin rubbing on mine.

  The pressure in me mounts to the point where I can’t kiss him anymore because all of my focus is on the insurmountable wave that’s momentarily going to crash down all around me. He senses my tension, my nearing oblivion, and continues his punishing pace. He reaches a hand down and slides it under my ass, pressing my pelvis further into his, grinding his against mine, causing that slight friction I need on my clit. Before I know it, my world ignites.

  I arch off the bed, bucking my hips uncontrollably as the strongest orgasm I’ve ever had spears through my center. I’m thrown off the cliff and hurled into a never-ending freefall. The pleasure is so strong, bordering on painful, that I sink my teeth into his shoulder trying to stifle it somehow. The wave crashes around me as Colton bucks into me a few more times before I hear him cry my name out. He tenses, his cock pulsing jaggedly within me as he finds his own release. His muscles jerk in tormented fashion as he lets his climax tear through him before slowly relaxing. He then buries his head in the curve of my neck, his breathing harsh like mine, his heart pounding against mine.

  My orgasm continues to tremble through me, my muscles pulsing around his semi-hard cock still within me. With each tremor, I can feel his body tense from his sensitivity and hear the soft guttural moan from deep within his throat. His weight on me is comforting, reassuring, and I forget what a soothing feeling it can be.

  Sex has never been like this for me. This earth shattering. This hedonistic. This unbelievable.

  We lay like this for a moment, both silently coming down from our high. He nuzzles my neck, laying a kiss over and over in the same spot, his sated body unable to move. I close my eyes, unable to believe that I’m here at this moment. That this gorgeous man is here with me.

  I run my fingernails lazily up and down his back, breathing in his earthy male scent. I wince as he grunts and slowly withdraws from me, the empty feeling unwelcome. He ties the condom in a knot and tosses it onto the floor beside the bed, before shifting back next to me. He lies on his side and props his head on his hand to watch me while leisurely running a single finger up and down my chest causing a slow, measured breath to exhale from my lips.

  I glance over at him, our eyes holding for a second as we silently reflect on each other and the experience we just shared. I can’t decipher the look in his eyes for he’s too guarded. I shift my gaze to the ceiling as panic starts to set in on me. What now? Colton’s had his way with me and now the challenge is over. Crap. I’ve only ever had sex with Max. We were in a relationship. We made love. It wasn’t a casual thing. And although what just happened might have meant a whole lot more to me than it did to Colton, what am I supposed to do now? With Max, I didn’t have to think about having to leave after. Or the etiquette of if I stay? Does Colton want me to stay? What the hell am I supposed to do? Is this what a one-night stand feels like? Shit.

  “Stop thinking, Ryles,” Colton’s rumble of a voice murmurs to me. I can sense his eyes trained on me. I still quickly, surprised that he can be so in tune with me despite only knowing me for a short time. How does he know?

  “Your whole body tenses up when you’re overthinking,” he explains, answering my silent question. “Turn that mind of yours off,” he warns, reaching out to my hip, pulling me toward and up against him, “or I’ll be forced to make you.”

  I can hear the smile in his voice and I laugh freely. “Oh, really?”

  “I can be very persuasive,” he taunts, running his free hand down my rib cage, stopping to idly palm my breast and run his thumb over my peaked nipple. “Don’t you think?”

  “Didn’t you just tell me I’m not allowed to think?” I sigh a soft moan, raising my chin as he leans into me to plant kisses in various places.

  “I love a woman who obeys,” he murmurs softly to me. I can feel him start to harden against me, and before I can process his ability to recover swiftly, Colton has rolled us over, switching our positions, with me sitting atop his hips.

  I sit astride him and stare down at him and his cocky grin. He returns my appraisal, trailing his eyes up and down my torso. I can feel his length continuing to thicken against the cleft in my rear end. “My God, Rylee, you are enough to make a man go crazy,” he tells me, leaning up and reaching around me to unclasp my bra. My breasts come free, heavy and weighted from desire. Colton groans in appreciation before he lifts himself up to suckle one, my thighs clenching viciously around him in response.

  I lift my head up and arch my back so that he has full advantage of my chest. The thoughts I’d had moments before are now pushed away as he continues his barrage of incendiary kisses. I feel his arms wrap around me and fumble near my bottom before I hear the telltale rip of foil. He finishes jacketing himself as he trails kisses with his skillful mouth back up to my lips. He slants his mouth, taking tiny, delirious sips from mine as he brings one hand to my hair and fists in it. He whispers gentle praise in between each kiss, each one stoking my craving for him.

  “Lift up for me,” he whispers as he brings one hand to my hip, helping raise me, while the other positions his turgid cock beneath me.

  I bite my lip in anticipation as his eyes hold onto mine, watching as I gently sink down onto the tip of him. I stay suspended momentarily as I let my fluids coat him so it’s easier for him to gain entry. It is empowering to watch the desire cloud in Colton’s eyes while I slowly lower myself inch by delirious inch onto him until he’s sheathed entirely. I moan softly as he stretches me to the most incredible feeling of fullness. I’m forced to sit still for several moments so that I can adjust to the entirety of him. Colton closes his eyes, lifting his head back, lips slightly parted as he a low rumble comes from deep in his throat.

  He brings his hands to my hips, and I start to rock myself on him. I raise myself up to his very tip and then slide back down, leaning back so that he rubs the patch of nerves within my walls.

  “Fuck,” he hisses on a sharp intake of air between my sheathing. “You are going to make me lose my mind, Rylee,” he moans loudly as he kisses me possessively before laying back on the bed. He starts to piston his hips up in unison with my movements and soon we are moving at a frantic pace. Each needing more from each other. Each driving, pushing, tantalizing each other to the precipice.

  I look down at Colton, the tendons in his neck strained, the tip of his tongue peeking through his teeth, eyes darkened by lust—he is sexy as hell. His hands grip my hips, muscles tensing as he holds me, lifts me, and drives into me. I am climbing, spinning dizzily as pleasure washes over me. I grip one of Colton’s hands on my hip, our fingers entwining, holding on. He moves his other hand to where we are joined, his thumb stroking my clit, manipulating it expertly.

  My body quickens, my muscles clench around Colton, an
d once again I’m thrown into a staggering oblivion. I cry out his name as a rapturous warmth overtakes me, envelopes me, and pulls me under its all-consuming haze.

  “Christ, Rylee,” Colton swears, sitting himself up without stopping his voracious tempo, taking control to allow me to lose myself in my orgasm. He wraps his arms around me, strong biceps holding me tight, and brings his lips to mine in a devouring, soul-emptying kiss. The onslaught of sensations pulling at me from every nerve in my body is so overwhelming that my only comprehension is I’m drowning in all that is Colton Donavan.

  I can feel his body tense, his hips thrust harder, and his arms squeeze tighter with hands splayed wide on my back. Colton buries his face in my neck before yelling out my name, a benediction on his lips, as he crashes over the edge. I feel him convulse wildly within me as he finds his release.

  We stay like this, me sitting astride him, arms wrapped around each other, heads buried into one another for some time, neither of us speaking. I am overcome with emotion as we hold each other.

  Oh, shit! How stupid was I to think that I could actually do casual sex? Feelings bubble up inside me. Feelings that I know Colton will never reciprocate, and I find myself struggling to maintain composure. I tell myself to hold it together, that I can wallow in the notion and break down once I’m alone.

  Colton shifts his legs some and leans back. He takes my head in his hands and transfixes me with his intoxicating stare. “You okay?” he whispers to me.

  I nod my head, trying to clear the worry from my eyes.

  He leans in and kisses me. A kiss so gentle and affectionate that I have to fight back the threatened tears because his tenderness disarms me and strips me to the core. When he opens his eyes, he stares at me for some time. I see something flash through them quickly, nameless emotions that I can’t read since I’ve only known him a short time.

  He shakes head quickly and lifts me off of him before scooting off the bed without a word. He stands hastily, averting my questioning look and runs his hand through his hair, the muttered word “fuck” coming out in an exhale. I watch his toned, broad shoulders and very appealing ass as he walks to the bathroom. I hear the water run and another muffled swear.

  I pull the sheet around me, alone and uncomfortable all of the sudden in my unfamiliar surroundings and unknown predicament. After a few moments, Colton reappears from the bathroom with a pair of black boxer briefs on. He stands in the doorway and looks at me. Gone is all of the warmth and emotion that was in his eyes minutes before. It’s been visibly replaced by a cold, aloof appraisal as he looks at me in his bed. He is no longer relaxed for the tension around his eyes and in the strain of his jaw is obvious.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asks, his voice a curt rasp. “I need a drink.”

  I shake my head no, afraid that if I speak, the hurt I feel from his sudden detachment will make matters only worse. At my response, he turns and walks out to the main room of the suite. I guess I have my answer. I was just a challenge to him.

  Challenge conquered, now I’m disposable.

  I hold the heel of my hand to my breastbone, trying to stifle the pain inside. Trying to lessen the feeling of being used. I think of Max and the way he used to treat me after we made love as if I was so fragile I’d break. He would caress me and hold me and make me laugh. Make me feel cherished. My beautiful, idealized Max. What have I done to him and to our memory by sleeping with someone when I’m technically engaged to another?

  His mother’s yells echo in my ears as she tells me it’s all my fault his life is over—that I killed him and every hope and dream that went with him. Guilt and shame and humiliation wash over me. I have to get out of here. These thoughts fill my head as I throw the covers off of me and gather all of my discarded garments from the floor before scurrying to the bathroom.

  The pressure in my chest is unbearable from trying to hold back my tears as I fumble clumsily to try and get my bra clasped. I throw my dress over my head, struggling to get my arms in the proper places in the straps. I don’t have any underwear. They’re ripped apart somewhere on the floor and are no longer worth the hassle of finding. I’m missing an earring and at this point, I really don’t care. I quickly tug its matching counterpart out as I glance in the mirror noticing misery mingled with regret heavy in my eyes. I take a tissue and wipe away the smudged eyeliner as I steel myself for my departure. After a few moments of masking my emotions and gathering my thoughts, I’m ready.

  I open the door to the bathroom and peak out, relieved and at the same time saddened that Colton is not sitting there waiting for me. Then again, what did I expect after how he just acted? For him to be sitting on the bed, waiting to profess his dying love for me? “Fuck ’em and chuck ’em,” I mutter under my breath as I walk out of the bedroom door to the main room of the suite.

  Colton is standing in the suite’s kitchenette, his hands pressed against the counter, his head hanging down. I stand for a moment and watch him, admire the lines of his body, and wish for so much more than he apparently can give. Colton shifts and takes a long draw on the amber liquid in his glass. He sets it down harshly, the ice clinking loudly before he turns. His step falters as he sees me standing dressed and ready to go.

  “What are—”

  “Look, Colton,” I begin, trying to control the situation before I can be humiliated further. “I’m a smart girl. I get it now,” I shrug, trying to prevent my voice from breaking. He looks at me and I can see the cogs in his head turning as he tries to figure out why I appear to be leaving. “Let’s face it, you’re not a spend the night kind of guy, and I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.”

  “Rylee,” he objects, but says nothing more as he takes one step toward me until I hold my hand up to halt him. He stares at me, subtly shaking his head, trying to wrap his mind around my words.

  “C’mon, that’s probably what this is to you—what you’re used to.” I take a couple steps toward him, proud of myself for my false bravado, “So I’ll just save myself the embarrassment of you asking me to leave and do the walk of shame now instead of in the morning.”

  Colton stares at me, struggling with some unseen emotion, his jaw clenching tightly. He closes his eyes for a beat before looking back at me. “Rylee, please just listen to me. Don’t go,” he utters. “It’s just that…” he pulls a hand up to grip the back of his neck, confusion and uncertainty etching his remarkable face as he is either unable to find his words or finish his lie.

  My heart wants to believe him when he tells me not to go, but my head knows differently. My dignity is all I have left, seeing as my wits have been thoroughly destroyed, scattered, and left on the bed in the room beyond. “Look, Colton,” I exhale, “we both know you don’t mean that. You don’t want me to stay. You got a room here tonight hoping you’d get laid. You just probably thought it would be with Raquel. A nice little suite where there would be no drama and no complications—a place you could leave in the morning without a backward glance at who’s still asleep in the bed. Well, I walked into it willingly,” I admit stepping up to him, his eyes never leaving mine as I place a hand on his bare chest. “It was great, Ace, but this girl,” I say motioning toward me and then the bedroom. “This isn’t me.”

  He stares at me, his eyes piercing into mine with such intensity that I avert my mine momentarily. “You’re right, this isn’t you,” he grates out, his countenance guarded, as I flick my eyes back to his. He lifts his glass and empties the rest of the glass’s contents, pools of emerald continuing to watch my eyes from over the rim of the glass. When he finishes, he runs his tongue over his lips, angling his head as he thinks something through in his head. “Let me get my keys and drive you home.”

  “Don’t bother,” I shake my head, shifting my weight as I figure out how to save face as humiliation seeps through me. “I’ll take a cab—it’ll make this mistake easier on both of us.” It takes everything I have to lean up on my toes and brush a casual, chaste kiss on his cheek. I meet his eyes again a
nd try to feign indifference. “Don’t worry, Colton, you crossed the finish line and took the checkered flag.” I throw over my shoulder as I start to walk toward the door, chin still held high despite the trembling of my bottom lip. “I’m just throwing the caution out there before I can be black flagged.”

  I step through the door and into the elevator. When I turn to push the first floor, I notice Colton standing in the doorway of the penthouse. His mouth twists as he watches me with aloof eyes and a hardened expression.

  I continue to stare at him as the doors start to close, a single tear falling down my cheek—the only betrayal my body displays of my sadness and humiliation. I am finally alone. I sag against the wall, allowing the emotions to overcome me yet still fighting the tears swimming in my eyes for I still have to find a way home.

  ***

  The cab ride is quick but painful. My quiet sobs in the backseat do nothing to alleviate the brutal reality of what just happened. When we pull up to the house a little after three in the morning, I’m glad to see that Haddie is home but asleep, for I can’t handle her questions right now.

  I slip into my room and flip on my IPOD speakers to a barely audible volume, scroll for “Unwell” and push repeat. As Rob Thomas’ voice melts the familiar words into me, I shed my clothes and step into my shower. I smell of Colton and of sex, and I scrub obsessively to try and get his scent off of me. It doesn’t matter though, no matter what I do, I can still smell him. I can still taste him. I can still feel him. I allow the water to wash away my torrent of tears, hiding my hiccupping sobs in its rushing sound.

  When I’m waterlogged and the tears have subsided, I pick myself up off the shower floor that I’d slid down onto, and make my way into my bedroom. I throw on a camisole and a pair of panties before collapsing into the comforting warmth of my bed and succumb to sleep.