by Hannah Ford
“You. Are. So. Fucking. Tight,” Colt groaned as he pumped into me, faster and faster.
I could feel that same feeling coming over me, the same unstoppable feeling I’d had when he was kissing me on my pussy, and when he lowered his mouth to my nipple, sucking my tit into his mouth with an audible suckling sound, I felt my body get pushed over the edge.
I came, the sensation indescribable, the pleasure so exhilarating and unbelievable that I almost felt as if I couldn’t be happening to me.
“Look at me,” Colt groaned. “Let me see you when you come.”
I moved my eyes to his, and just when I thought the waves of pleasure were done rolling through me, they started again, twisting through my body, radiating from my core, taking over my body, shattering me into a million pieces.
“Shit,” Colt said. “I’m going to come inside you, baby. You’re so fucking tight. I can’t help it.”
He pumped harder and harder, his hands skimming down my sides, over my hips until he cupped my ass and pulled me into him so he could get deeper inside of me.
I felt him convulse on top of me, and then I felt him explode in my pussy, warming me with his come, filling me, making me his.
When he was done he collapsed on top of me. I ran my hands up his back, enjoying the feel of him still inside of me as I ran my hands over the chiseled muscles of his back, up the back of his neck and through his hair.
He pulled out of me slowly, then laid next to me on the couch.
I swallowed, the adrenaline slowly dissipating, the intensity and meaning of what I’d done finally beginning to hit me.
Colt turned over and propped himself up on his elbow.
He reached out and grabbed a strand of my hair, began absent-mindedly turning it over in his fingers. I couldn’t tell from his expression what he was thinking. Had he liked it? Had it been as good for him as it was for me? Had I been enough for him.
I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but I was afraid.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Did I hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No. Not too much.”
We lay there for a long moment, not saying anything, our legs tangled in each other, Colt’s fingertips brushing softly over my lower belly.
There was knock on the door, and Colt jumped off of the couch, rushing to put his clothes on.
I followed suit.
“Colt,” Jessa called from the other side of the door. “The door’s locked.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m coming.”
He turned and left, whatever had burned between us, whatever connection we’d had, disappearing into a puff of smoke.
**
I went back to my computer.
I didn’t know what else to do.
It was impossible to concentrate.
I couldn’t believe I’d slept with him, right there on the couch. I kept glancing over there, like it was the scene of a crime.
I wondered how many girls he’d slept with on that couch. Probably dozens.
The thought filled me with a sick jealousy.
How could I feel this way about someone I hardly knew?
As the hours went by, the panic began to build in my chest.
I’d slept with him.
Kissing him was one thing.
But sleeping with him?
I was supposed to go see Declan tonight. How could I tell him what had happened? Did I even have to tell him what had happened? We’d promised each other that we’d never be with anyone else, that we’d be each other’s first everything. But we couldn’t cross that line when we were in the system – if we’d gotten caught hooking up in our foster home, we’d be separated forever.
Declan had been willing to risk it.
But I knew that if he was caught with me, they’d blame him. Sure, it would be bad for me – I’d be moved, and it would always be in my file that I had a sexual history with another foster kid. ‘Sexually acting out’ they called it, as if two teenagers hooking up was something nefarious and not completely normal.
But it would be worse for him.
It was always worse for the boy.
I typed his address into the computer, searching for clues as to what his life might be like.
His apartment building seemed to be in a nice area of town, and it made me glad. I wondered if he lived alone, if he had a roommate, what kind of job he had.
When I googled his name, nothing came up, and I wondered again how Colt had found him.
“You still going?” a voice asked.
I turned to see Colt standing behind me, his voice low and dark.
“Oh,” I said. “What?”
“Deacon,” he said. “You’re still going to see him?”
“Declan,” I said.
Colt rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Are you going to see him or not?”
“I’m not sure.” For the first time in my life, something was stronger than my desire to see Declan. It was my desire for Colt. He stood there in front of me, in his t-shirt and jeans, sexy and gorgeous and beautiful, and the need to be close to him pulsed inside of me, pushing everything else out.
I wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel his hands on me and his body on mine. It was a pull stronger than anything I’d ever felt before, more intense than my need for Declan, more intense than my need to cut.
Tell me not to go, I pleaded silently. Tell me to stay here, with you. Tell me you don’t want me to see him, that you don’t want me to be with anyone but you.
Colt turned. “You can take my car.”
“What?”
He shrugged, then moved to the other side of the office, pulled a file folder out of the cabinet and began looking through it. “I’m staying late,” he said. “I can get a ride home with Ava.”
I felt the sharp sting of tears against my eyes.
Disappointment filled my belly.
But I should have known better.
I should have known better than to fall for Colt’s act, his ‘Olivia, are you okay’ act, the way he’d been gentle with me, how he’d taken care of me last night, how he’d acted like he cared.
The truth was, he didn’t care.
He didn’t care about anything except that he’d gotten to fuck me.
He was like any other man I’d known in my life. They didn’t care about anything but their dicks, and as soon as they got what they wanted, they were just on to the next, ready to cast you aside like you were nothing.
So I did what I’d always done when something horrible happened to me, when something was so painful that I didn’t want to deal with it. I stuffed it down as far as I could, further and further, to a place where it would lie in wait until it would inevitably resurface at some point and make me want to cut myself.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I can get there on my own.”
He shrugged. “Fine.”
He turned and walked out of the room, and I felt myself start to fall apart.
Stop being weak, I told myself. Stop. This is your own fault. You shouldn’t have had sex with him, what is wrong with you?
I’d ruined everything, for a guy who didn’t even care about me.
I needed to get out of there.
I needed to get away from him.
I would go see Declan.
He would take care of me, and if he wouldn’t, well, then I could go back to the Walnut Street shelter.
Anything was better than this.
I grabbed the ten dollars that was sitting on the desk, the money Colt had given me this morning for lunch.
I picked up the iPhone and hesitated, wondering if I should I take it.
It would be stealing.
I would take it just until I got to Declan’s, I decided. Then I would mail it back to Colt.
I grabbed my bag and headed down the hallway.
The club was still dead at this time of day, and I didn’t run into Colt or pass anyone else.
W
hen I got outside, I had that same feeling of relief that I’d had last night, like I’d escaped a bad place that was trying to pull me under.
A tiny shiver of anxiety slid up my spine when I remembered what had happened to me the last time I was alone in this neighborhood, when those two men had attacked me.
But the streets were busier now, with people going in and out of the stores and restaurants that lined the street.
I pulled up the bus schedule on my phone, studying it until I figured out which bus would take me to Declan’s neighborhood. There was a bus stop two blocks away, and the bus I needed was coming in about twenty minutes.
I ducked into a drug store to kill some time.
I picked out a bottle of water and then moved to the cosmetics aisle and browsed the nail polishes, sliding my hand over the row of bright colors, wondering which one Declan would like. I couldn’t believe I was going to be at his apartment soon.
I tried to conjure up the desperation I usually felt when I thought of Declan.
But I couldn’t think of anything but Colt.
Flashes of him pulsed through my body.
His kiss.
His hands.
His cock.
All of me, tangled up with him, the feeling of him buried inside of me, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm on that couch.
Longing and desire slid through me.
It was so strong it almost took my breath away.
“Hey,” a voice said next to me, and I turned to look. A man was standing there, giving me a friendly smile. He looked slightly familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
“Hi,” I said, smiling back and then trying to move away.
“Olivia, right?”
I turned around.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Caleb, from last night. My friends were being raucous assholes?” He looked sheepish.
“Oh,” I said, remembering him from the club, the guy I’d served drinks to, the one who’d given me a big tip to make up for his friends being rowdy. “Oh, right. How are you?”
“I’m good.” He ran his hand through his hair. “How are you?”
“Good,” I said, and then stood there awkwardly. I wasn’t sure how friendly I was supposed to be with a guy who’d come into Loose Cannons.
“Listen,” he said, “this might be a little weird, but do you want to grab lunch or something?”
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m running late. But it was nice to see you again.” I turned around and rushed to the cash register. I paid for my water, making sure not to turn around, not wanting to give Caleb a reason to try to talk to me again.
Once I was outside, I still had a few minutes before the bus was supposed to come, and I wasn’t sure where to go, so I walked around the corner, looking for another shop or café to duck into it.
But suddenly, he was behind me.
Caleb.
“Olivia,” he said, his strides lengthening as he fell into step beside me. His voice was completely changed now, gone from friendly and flirty to serious and dark. “Don’t be scared. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, I told you,” I said. “I’m late.”
I began hurrying down the sidewalk, but he was able to keep up with me easily.
I quickened my pace, but I couldn’t shake him.
Finally, I darted into a restaurant, figuring if he was going to try to hurt me, at least there would be people around.
But I never made it past the lobby.
Caleb stepped in front of me.
He was holding something in his hand.
A badge.
“Olivia,” he said. “I’m with the FBI. I need to ask you some questions about Loose Cannons.”
“I don’t…what?” My head was spinning.
“Loose Cannons. We’re investigating the club. And you’re going to help us.”
END OF BOOK FOUR, Look for Book Five, Coming Soon!
In the meantime, click here to read the first three books in Hannah Ford’s bestselling WHAT HE WANTS series for only 99 cents!
Twenty-one-year-old law student Charlotte Holloway isn’t the type of girl to lust after things she can’t have. But when she starts working for the sexy and mysterious Noah Cutler, Charlotte can’t help but dream about the gorgeous billionaire, even though she knows it’s just a fantasy. Men like Noah – gorgeous, dark, and driven-- usually aren’t interested in women like her.
Noah Cutler is a man who doesn’t take no for an answer. His drive to go after exactly what he wants has made him one of the most powerful men in the city. And while he could have his pick of any woman, his sights are set on Charlotte. And he won’t stop until he’s taken control of every inch of her deliciously curvy body…
Click here to read more!