“Months,” I reply, trying not to think about who it was with.
“So you haven’t pleasured yourself for months?” His tongue lightly drags along my shoulder.
Feeling a little breathless, I answer, “No, I’ve pleasured myself.”
“Vibrator or fingers?”
“Both.”
“I want to see.” He bends his head forward and brings his hands to below my breasts. “I want to watch you play with your clit. I want to watch you make yourself come.”
Keeping up the slow, methodic movements of my hips, I say, “And when will you come?”
“When I fucking want to,” he growls, kissing the side of my face, my cheek, close to my lips. Shit, I want his lips on mine, so I turn my head and capture his mouth. It’s soft but demanding, his lips opening, his tongue finding mine. I try to turn all the way, but he holds me in place and tears away, the taste of brandy lingering on my tongue.
Whispering into my ear he says, “Touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”
I move my hand to my pussy where I slide my fingers across my clit, surprised with just how turned on I am. It’s been so long, so I shouldn’t be that surprised, especially since his cock is sliding between my ass, mimicking the feeling of sex. It feels so damn good.
“God, so wet.” I rest my head against his shoulder and melt into his embrace, my finger gliding up and down.
Without saying a word, he moves his hands to my breasts, cupping them, a slew of curse words escaping him. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to touch these all evening. So fucking sexy. And these nipples”—he pinches them, rolling them between his fingers—“so hard and perfect. Do you like that?”
“Yes,” I breathe out, a wave of arousal hitting me hard in the pit of my stomach, my finger starting to move faster.
“That’s it, just like that. I want to watch your finger work your clit. Smooth and fast.”
He pinches my nipples, a groan pops out of my mouth, and then his teeth find my neck where he bites down, sucks, and then soothes with his tongue. It’s rough and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
“God, yes. That feels so good.”
“Slow your finger down. I want you to fuck yourself using long, smooth strokes. Go fucking slow.”
I do as I’m told, dragging out my finger, feeling it slide along my bundle of nerves, shooting pleasure all the way to my toes. The feeling of euphoria starts to build in the center of my body, coiling at the base.
“Fuck, pinch my nipples again,” I moan.
He does.
Hard.
“God, yes.”
“Harder. Faster,” he pants into my ear, his erection rock-hard against my ass. I grind into him. His breath becomes as labored as mine, and his hands perform magic on my breasts until I can feel my impending orgasm start to crest.
“I’m going to come.”
“Then come.” He twists my nipples one more time, the pain turning to pleasure as my orgasm takes over, hitting me right in the gut, deadening my legs, making me limp and useless.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, tilting my head back on his shoulder. “That was—”
“We’re not done,” he growls. “Get your ass in the bedroom and spread your legs. I’m going to fuck you until morning.”
He helps me up and then gives my ass a swat. When I startle and turn to him, he gives me a wicked grin. Sexy. Dominant. Knows how to please me.
Yeah. Tonight was a good decision.
* * *
My body aches as I turn to my side, feeling every little bit of sexual action that took place last night . . . this morning.
What time is it?
The room is dark, the curtains drawn, no light peeking through. It can’t be that early, right? I lift my head off the pillow, and my hair falls over my face. I push it to the side and see Donovan still sleeping. His hands are tucked under his pillows, his hair is a wild mess from me pulling on it over and over again, and his bare ass is exposed—tight and so freaking hot.
When he stripped down for me the first time, I had to pick my tongue up off the floor. I wanted to ask him how many hours he spent in the gym, what kind of workouts he did, because he was sporting the same kind of defined six-pack Colby does.
I mean . . . not that I was comparing the two last night.
But hell, it was hard not to.
Both dirty talkers. Both alphas in bed. Both hot as hell.
And even though I came multiple times, one from me and some from Donovan, it still didn’t rock my world like the night Colby and I shared. I didn’t feel anything near to what I feel when Colby smiles at me or gives me a hug. I feel so much more when he gives me a simple look than when Donovan had my ass in the air and thrust into me from behind.
Tearing my eyes off his ass, I glance at the clock on his nightstand. Five in the morning.
I should go.
I’m not good with awkward mornings, especially if this is supposed to be a one-night stand . . . since we’re in his fuck pad and all.
I slip out of bed and pad across the floor to the living room where my dress, thong, and heels were discarded. Being as quiet as possible, I slip everything on, struggling a little with my dress until it’s righted properly. I zip up the back and scan the room for my purse. That’s when I see Donovan walking toward me in his dress pants, unbuttoned, and his palm rubbing his eye, still looking sleepy.
“Where are you going?” he asks, stepping in closer.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was—”
“Ditching me.” He grabs me by the hand and pulls me into his chest, my palm connecting with his defined pec. “Come back to bed. I want to fuck you again.” He presses his lips against my neck, trailing a path to my ear. “And then I want to eat breakfast with you . . . naked.”
I chuckle. “Seems like all your plans involve me being naked.”
“Putting on clothes would be a disservice to the universe. You’re too damn gorgeous to be clothed. Come on.” He pushes me toward the bedroom and starts to undo my dress from behind, his lips kissing down my back with every inch of my skin he reveals until he reaches the slope of my ass.
He presses me forward, so I bend at the waist until my hands reach the bed. “Just like that,” he mutters, slipping the rest of my dress off.
“This fucking thong again.” This time he tears it off me, rubbing my skin a little raw from the jerky movement. “Next time we go out, there will be no underwear. Do you hear me?”
“Th-there will be a next time?” I ask, feeling turned on and nervous simultaneously.
“Do you think I can fuck this pussy once and be done?” He smooths his hand over my ass before slapping it hard, eliciting a hiss from between my teeth until he slowly kisses the red spot. “No fucking way. This pussy is mine, Ryan. Expect many nights with me.”
Many nights.
Many nights where I won’t be alone.
Many nights where I’ll be fucked senseless.
Many nights where I won’t be available to hang out with Colby.
Many nights where I’ll be too mindless to wonder what Colby is doing, if he and Sage are together . . . if he’s thinking about me.
No. He’s engaged. He won’t be thinking about me at all. He’ll be too far away to care.
Many nights with Donovan. I can get on board with that, especially when he helps me escape, just like now with his head between my legs, ready to pleasure me from underneath. Yes, I can definitely get on board with this.
Chapter Ninety-Five
COLBY
What would you do if your best friend went out with a guy you didn’t know, didn’t text you back the night before, and was supposed to have lunch with your fiancée?
Invite yourself without them knowing?
That’s why I’m marching toward the table I just watched them sit at, flight-suit clad, sleeves rolled up. Before I intrude, I take Ryan in. She looks . . . normal. Nothing out of the ordinary that I can see from here. Sage is wearing her typical slacks with a tidy blouse and heels.
Very professional. Whereas, Ryan is sporting cut-off shorts, and an off-the-shoulder shirt that reveals her black bra underneath. Her hair a mess on top of her head, and huge black sunglasses cover her eyes.
The only thing similar between the two is their blonde hair and even at that, Sage’s is much more on the whiter side whereas Ryan has some dirty-blonde streaks weaved in.
They couldn’t be more opposite. Sage is quiet and reserved, and Ryan is outlandish and up for anything. Looking at them together, cataloguing their appearances alone, there is such a stark contrast between the two.
I stride toward them, both unaware that I’m crashing their lunch. Just as I step up close, I can hear Sage say, “So how was your date last night?”
“Yeah, how was your date?” I add.
Startled, they both turn their attention on me.
“Colby, what are you doing here?” Sage stands and places a soft kiss on my cheek, but I keep my eyes trained on Ryan who’s slouching in her seat, popping a piece of gum and shielding herself behind her sunglasses, a slight smirk on her face.
“Wanted to hear about this new guy, and since Ryan is best at ignoring me these days, figured I would surprise you.”
“I don’t ignore you. I just keep you waiting.” She adjusts her sunglasses, bringing my attention to her face, her neck, and then to her shoulder where there are a few bruises.
What the ever-living fuck?
Letting go of Sage, I lift Ryan’s chin with my fingers and take in her neck and shoulders. “What the fuck happened to you? Did he do this?”
“Do what?” she asks, pushing me away.
“You have bruises all over you.”
Sage giggles next to me, placing her hand on my arm. “Colby, those are hickies.”
The mention of hickies immediately takes me back to the one night I had with Ryan—our no-strings-attached night—where I marked her myself, not giving two fucks if she had to cover it up the next day. I took pride in claiming my territory, at least for that night.
Unexpected anger takes over as I realize another man has marked her, a man I don’t know, a man I already loathe.
“Did you have sex with him last night?”
“Way to just jump to the good stuff. Come on, Colby, let her warm up first.” Sage tugs on my hand, forcing me to sit. She links my hand with hers, but I’m too fucking jittery to hold on for very long.
“Is he hot?”
Casually, Ryan brings one of her legs to her chest, propping her foot on the large seat. She folds her arms over her knee and leans forward, acting as if everything is hunky-fucking-dory, when there is a war raging inside me.
“He’s really hot. Poised, a restaurateur with an apt ability to make everything taste good. We feasted on one of the best meals I’ve ever had, and then we went to his place.” She shrugs. “It was a good night.”
“Eeep, sounds so romantic,” Sage gushes.
“Where was his place?” I counter, ignoring the excitement in my fiancée’s voice.
“Just below the restaurant.”
“He took you to his fuck pad?” I seethe, growing angrier by the minute.
“Colby, don’t be so vulgar,” Sage says. I can hear how irritated she is with me, but I don’t give a fuck. He took her to his fuck pad. She let him take her to his fuck pad.
Ryan takes a sip of her water. “It’s okay, Sage. It totally was a fuck pad, which was fine with me, because it’s been a really long time since I’ve had sex.” She glances in my direction, and I swear to God if she wasn’t wearing glasses, I would be able to exchange thoughts between us.
The last time she had sex was with me.
She lets that hang in the air, dangling between us, reminding me of that night, how great she felt in my arms—how vulnerable she was—but also open to doing whatever the hell I wanted. And that next morning when I left, we parted as friends. She made it easy, almost too damn easy.
“Was he good?” Sage asks, looking shy now.
A small curve hits Ryan’s lips before she nods. “Oh yeah, he was good.”
And that right there sends a bursting flame of anger right out the top of my head. I should not care, I really shouldn’t, but I’m starting to lose my shit.
I marked her with my mouth.
I was the one there for her. Who fucked her when she needed it.
I’m the one who cares about her, not this stranger who came out of fucking nowhere.
Ryan and Sage start talking about something, short business pants on men, I don’t fucking know, but I can’t concentrate, not when my face is burning up, my chest rising and falling a mile a minute, and my hands are clenching into tight fists.
“Ugh, will you excuse me? I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Sure. Want me to order that chicken salad sandwich for you if the waitress ever comes to take our order?” Ryan asks.
“That would be great.” Sage takes off, and she isn’t even ten feet away before I shoot daggers in Ryan’s direction.
“Why the hell did you fuck that guy last night?”
Sitting back, a little stunned, Ryan asks, “Excuse me?”
The need to punch something is strong. “Why would you sleep with him? I thought you were looking for someone special, someone who cares about you, building a relationship. You can’t fuck someone on the first night, Ryan.”
“Funny”—she shifts in her seat—“I didn’t ask for your opinion on who I fuck or don’t fuck, Colby.”
“Maybe you should have, then you wouldn’t have fucked this guy, ensuring he loses all respect for you.”
Her mouth falls open, and her feet hit the ground. “You know nothing about him.”
“Do you?” I counter. “Because how much could you learn about someone over dinner?”
“Enough to know I wanted his dick inside of me.” Sparks of anger fly off her, venom from her lips with every word. “Thankfully, he erased the last guy who was inside of me.” In case she thinks I forgot, she adds, “That was you.”
My teeth grind together; my mind whirls. “So you’re trying to get back at me? Is that what this is? For what? For taking care of you? For being there for you? For trying to help you find the right path?”
“I don’t need your help, Colby. I’ve been perfectly fine on my own. I’m so sick of you hovering over me like a fucking helicopter mom. Newsflash. I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.”
“Not when you fall off the face of the earth, lose weight, and fuck some guy who’s the last person on earth you should be seeing right now.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t make that assessment. You weren’t there last night.”
“Okay, what’s his last name?” She draws a blank. “Exactly my point. You’re going to get hurt again, and I’m going to have to pick up the pieces.”
“Well, I’m sorry it’s been such a hardship for you, being my fucking friend.”
“It’s not a hardship.” I drag my hand over my face. “I just don’t see when you’re going to grow up.”
She pauses, her face registering in shock. “When I’m going to grow up?” She’s fuming, and I can tell she’s not going to hold back whatever she thinks she needs to say. “You know, Colby, you’re not the only one with a shitty childhood, with a fucked-up parent; you’re not the only one who suffered. I had to grow up early, really early. So don’t fucking ask me when I’m going to grow up. Want to talk about not knowing anything about someone? Try learning how to talk to your best friend again, because this is not the way to do it.”
“Ryan—”
“You can go to hell, Colby.” She shakes her head and stands. “I’m trying to do something with my life, and if that means I have a fantastic one-night stand with a man who made me come multiple times in one night, so be it. That’s my choice. Not yours.”
“You’re going to get hurt.”
“Too late,” she snaps back. “You already did that.”
She snags her purse and tosses it over her shoulder. “Tell Sage
I’m sorry I had to leave. I can’t be around her fiancé right now.”
“Ryan, don’t fucking leave.”
“Screw you, Colby.” And with that, she takes off toward the parking lot.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
How did that go so fucking bad? She’s being ridiculous. Careless. Why is she doing this? Why won’t she talk to me?
Why is she making this so goddamn difficult?
* * *
Colby: Can you please call me?
Colby: Ryan, I’m sorry. Please just fucking call me.
Colby: I overreacted and was a fucking idiot. I see that. Can you please call me so we can talk about this?
Colby: Ryan, please.
* * *
Two weeks and nothing.
No texts backs.
No returned phone calls.
And when I visited her at her place, she wasn’t there.
I leave for my TDY in two days, and I want to patch things up before I have to take off. It’s why I’m sitting through her variety show again with backstage access, thanks to Leah. I know the last ten minutes of the show is pretty slow for Ryan—it’s when she starts packing up—so I take that moment to make my way backstage before things get crazy with the end of the show.
I flash my badge to the security guard, who kindly thanks me for my service, and scan the dark, walled-in space looking for one person.
I spot her immediately by the makeup vanity, where the big bulb lights shine down on her. She’s wearing tight black jeans, black high heels, and a black shirt that dips low in the front, showing an abundance of cleavage. She looks like she’s going out tonight, and that puts a sour taste in my mouth.
Not wanting to start off my conversation sounding like a dick, I take a deep breath and try to remain calm as I head toward her. She glances in the mirror and spots me. I expect her to at least look shocked, but she doesn’t. Her face almost seems . . . lifeless, completely devoid of any emotion.
In a monotone voice, she asks, “What are you doing here, Colby?”
“Since you won’t return any of my calls or texts, I figured this was the only way to get you to talk to me.”
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