Black Out

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “You okay?” he asked, searching her gaze.

  “I’m fine, Colt. More than fine.”

  He smiled and pushed her hair from her face. “You looked a little emotional for a second.”

  “I am emotional.” No sense lying. “I feel amazing with you.”

  “You are amazing, baby. Now lie back and let me lick you.”

  She sucked in a sharp, pained breath. Love hurt even when it felt good. “Do you think we could save that for the next time? I want to feel you inside me the first time I come with you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  She was going to make him come unglued before this was over. When she put her mouth on him, he thought he would lose it and embarrass himself before he ever made her come. By sheer force of will, he didn’t explode all over her tongue.

  Now she wanted him inside her instead of letting him taste her first. Not what he’d expected. But the way she said she wanted to come with him inside her the first time—hell, it made him want to pound his chest like a gorilla.

  His girl wanted to ride his cock worse than she wanted his mouth on her clit. Amazing.

  “Do you think you’re ready?” he asked. Because she said it’d been a long time for her and she was afraid it might be uncomfortable. He didn’t want to shove his way inside her and have her regret it.

  “Honestly, Colt, I don’t think I could get any wetter. Or more ready.”

  He took them both down to the bed, holding her tenderly, cushioning her fall. She wrapped her legs around him. He took a moment to appreciate the fact he was about to live out one of his wildest fantasies.

  Getting balls deep inside Angie Turner, the sexy redhead who’d been haunting his dreams for months. The source of a thousand nights of jerking off onto his belly and wishing he was inside her.

  He reached between them and slipped a finger into her folds. Holy hell, she was wet. She moaned a little as he circled her clit, flicking it softly.

  “Shit,” he said. “Condom.”

  She dropped her legs from around his waist and he sat up and reached for the condom he’d set on the nightstand earlier. Angie watched as he tore the package open and rolled the condom on. He knelt between her legs and met her gaze across the valley of her belly and the peaks of her breasts.

  So pretty, his girl.

  “You still good with this?” he asked.

  Her eyebrows rose. “Are you kidding me? If you don’t make me come, I will die. I’m so turned on right now it hurts.”

  He understood that kind of turned on. Felt it too. He dropped down on top of her and she wrapped her legs around him again. Then he kissed her, tongue against tongue, tasting and teasing while she arched her body up to his and tried to get his cock inside her.

  He stopped teasing her and eased inside. Slowly, so she could adjust.

  So he could adjust.

  Her body opened to him and he slid home with ease. She was so fucking wet and he wanted to pump hard until he exploded.

  He didn’t though. He held himself still, just kissing her. He could feel her heartbeat, fast and sure, and he knew his own echoed it.

  “Colt,” she whispered between kisses. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Please, please, move. Take me to heaven.”

  “Anything for you, mon ange.”

  He started to move, slowly and surely, stoking the fires between them. Angie’s eyes drifted closed and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Oh, yes,” she moaned. “Like that.”

  Her pleasure was the most important thing in the world to him. He needed her to beg him, and he needed her to come. Only then would he let himself go.

  He didn’t have long to wait. Angie gripped him harder, her arms and legs tightening around him as his thrusts intensified.

  “More,” she gasped. “More.”

  He gave it to her, sliding a hand beneath her ass and lifting her to him, rocking into her body faster and harder. He could feel the tightening in her limbs, the quickening of her breathing. She was close.

  “Look at me,” he told her.

  Her eyes popped open, their green depths hazy with pleasure.

  “Come for me, Angie.”

  “I’ve never—” she choked out. “Oh, God.”

  He felt it happening. The rippling of internal muscles gripping him tightly, the stiffening of her limbs, the uncontrolled gasps and moans. She came apart around him. It was beautiful to watch. He said things to her in French, words tumbling over themselves to spill out and tell her how gorgeous she was, how perfect, and how much he cared for her. Really cared.

  Hell, was this what love felt like? He hadn’t had eyes for anyone else since the first moment he’d seen her on Maddy’s couch. He’d been intrigued, attracted, mesmerized. He’d thought he’d seduce her, have some fun, and they’d part company.

  It hadn’t worked that way. Here they were, months later, and she was a fire in his blood that didn’t feel like it was ever going to go out. He was buried deep inside her, she was splintering apart around him, and all he wanted to do was make it happen again.

  “Colt,” she whispered, and he ran a thumb across her bottom lip. “That was—I can’t—” She closed her eyes. “I want to feel you come.”

  He captured her lips, thrust his tongue into her mouth, and rocked into her with new determination. He wanted to make her come again, and he wanted to go over the edge with her. He slipped a hand between them, found her clit and stroked it until she was panting.

  When she soared over the edge this time, he was right behind her, groaning her name against her neck. He emptied himself into the condom, shuddering with the force of everything he felt.

  This was home. She was home.

  He was in love for the first and last time in his life.

  After coming twice, Angie fell asleep. She didn’t want to, but her body was still a little weak from being sick and she had no choice in the matter. She grew drowsy, and then she dropped off when Colt got up to dispose of the condom. She felt him climb into the bed and draw her close, but all she did was snuggle up to him and pass out.

  When she woke, it was dark out—and she was alone. She lay there confused for a moment….

  And then it all came back and heat rolled over her. She’d had sex with Colt.

  He’d rocked her world. She’d been so excited that she came with nothing more than the pressure of his cock inside her the first time.

  That had never happened before.

  She pushed the covers back and searched for her clothes. She could hear Colt banging around in the kitchen, and she wanted to join him. She found her panties, but nothing else in the tangle of covers. She slipped those on. In the light coming through the open door, she saw Colt’s plaid shirt draped on a chair. She put it on and buttoned it. It came to her knees. She padded into the hallway and toward the kitchen at the other end of the house.

  The rooms were small and boxy, cut off from each other by walls. The house had potential though. For the first time, she thought of how it would look with the wall between the kitchen and living room knocked down. Get rid of the avocado appliances, put in some new cabinets and countertops—maybe an island too. Add some new flooring, and badda bing badda boom, a showpiece kitchen.

  Angie shook her head with a small laugh. Damn Maddy and her decorating shows.

  She hesitated when she was almost there. What would Colt say to her?

  Would he look at her like he’d been there, done that, and now he was marking time until she could go home again? Had she made a mistake to sleep with him?

  Her heart throbbed with fear and indecision. Her head told her she’d made a mess of the whole thing. She’d fallen for him, had sex with him, and now he might be ready to move on.

  You should have waited to fall for him, dummy. Or maybe you should have fucked him months ago, then kicked him to the curb.

  “No,” she muttered, shaking her head. Colt wasn’t like that. She knew he wasn’t.

  Angie took a deep breath and walked into the kitch
en. Colt looked up from where he sat at the table with his phone in his hand. He shot to his feet.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, taking her into his arms.

  She hugged him, burying her face against his gray T-shirt. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She pushed back and gazed up at him. “Yes. I was being silly. I thought I’d walk in here and you’d be done with me. Like the look on your face would tell me you’d gotten what you wanted and now you were done.”

  He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. He murmured in French. She didn’t know what he was saying. Maybe the same things he’d said when he’d been buried inside her, or maybe something different. She didn’t know, but she loved it. Felt comforted by it this time, whereas before it’d been the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

  “I’m not done with you, minette. I’m addicted to you,” he said, and she shuddered with quiet bliss.

  “That’s good because I think I’m addicted to you too.” She could say it because her face was pressed to his chest, but she blushed just the same.

  He tipped her chin up and kissed her, a soft slow sweet kiss that curled her toes and started the fires burning in her core again. So easy for him. She felt like she could come again and again if he wanted her to.

  He broke the kiss and stepped back, but he still held her lightly. “Are you hungry?”

  She started to tell him yes, she was hungry for him—but her belly growled and she had to laugh. He laughed too. “Imma take that as a yes,” he said. His gaze dropped over her. “I love the way my shirt looks on you.”

  “I couldn’t find my clothes, so I grabbed it. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.”

  He smiled. “I don’t mind.” He slipped a hand beneath and squeezed her ass. “In fact, I prefer it.”

  She giggled. Like, seriously? Since when did she giggle?

  Apparently when a big, strapping, hotter than hot man who spoke French in her ear and kissed like a dream grabbed her ass and told her he liked her in his shirts.

  He let her go and pulled a chair out for her. “Mademoiselle,” he said.

  Angie sat. It wasn’t really odd to be at the table in his shirt, with only panties beneath, because it was a lot like wearing a dress. Except it was way better than a dress because the shirt smelled like him.

  Colt served her coq au vin with crusty bread and a nice Pinot Noir. He played French music through the wireless speaker sitting on the counter. It was romantic and homey. She didn’t care if the appliances were avocado and the floor was old vinyl tile, it was far better than sitting in a fussy restaurant with tablecloths and hovering waiters.

  And more honest too. They were themselves. No pretense.

  “What do you think?” he asked when she’d tasted the first bite of her chicken.

  “I think it’s a wonder you aren’t married yet,” she teased.

  He laughed. “Yeah, well, I guess I never met the right woman.”

  “Ever come close?”

  Because she was completely curious. Overwhelmingly so. Yet her heart tapped out a faster beat as she waited for his answer.

  His blue gaze sparked. “Nope.”

  She thought he wouldn’t say anything else, but then he did.

  “I didn’t think my life was the kind I could ask anyone to share. Plus I never met anyone who I wanted to ask before.”

  He held her gaze for a long minute, and her heart throbbed. She told herself not to read anything into it, but of course her crazy heart wanted desperately to do so.

  He took a sip of his wine, and the spell broke. “What really made you want to marry Dan? There had to be more to it than he asked.”

  Angie’s belly tightened. She’d started the topic, so she wasn’t going to suddenly beg off it. He’d seen through her previous answer.

  “I thought I was in love. I guess I was for a while, really. It’s a lot easier to say in hindsight that you didn’t love someone—but the truth is I thought I did while it was going on. I felt like getting married and having a family was one of those things I was supposed to do. Dan was handsome and educated, and he had a great career ahead of him. He was going to Georgetown Law. I thought he was the perfect man to build a future with. I was wrong.”

  “He was an idiot, Ang. I said that before. But I’m glad he was because we wouldn’t be sitting here if you’d married him.”

  Her mouth curved in a smile. “You say the nicest things.”

  “It’s not nice. It’s true. His mistake was my gain. You’re sitting there in my shirt, you aren’t wearing a bra—which has been on my mind since you walked in—and I’ve got the rest of the night to explore every inch of you.” He lifted his wine glass. “To Dan.”

  Angie giggled. She clinked her glass with his. “To Dan.”

  “I’m sorry he hurt you, Angie. I know I’m joking about him, but I also know it wasn’t fun to go through what he did to you.”

  “No, it definitely wasn’t.” She studied the wine for a second. “I thought it was me. I thought I was the problem. I wasn’t enough for him. If I couldn’t be enough for him, how would I ever be enough for anyone else?”

  Old hurts rose to the surface but she swallowed them down. She shrugged as if it was nothing. Colt reached over and put his hand on hers. She looked up at him.

  “You know the problem was all his, right? It wasn’t you at all.”

  Love, sharp and sweet, squeezed her lungs. “I know. But it’s made me cautious.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed it, and the sweet ache of desire slid through her veins. Oh what he did to her.

  “I get it, minette. When we were in bed and you said you’d never… what did you mean?”

  Heat washed over her. She remembered that moment. Vividly.

  She dropped her gaze from his. Took a moment to find her courage. “I’ve never come that way before. With a man inside me. No, um, direct stimulation.”

  She looked up again, her face on fire—and found him smiling broadly. Proudly. She relaxed.

  “You’re thrilled about it,” she said with a laugh.

  “Damn right. I mean yeah, I’m kinda pissed the other men in your life were too damned incompetent or impatient or whatever, but I’m ridiculously happy I’m the one it happened with. Maybe we can make it happen again. So long as you aren’t too sore.”

  It was a little tender down there, but not in a bad way. More of an I want to do that again as soon as possible way.

  “I think I can handle another round.”

  Colt winked. “Better eat up then. You might need the energy.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  They ate dinner, cleaned up the kitchen together, and then snuggled on the couch to watch Doctor Zhivago. Colt had never watched it before. He soon knew why.

  It was long as fuck, but Angie was enthralled.

  Though she dozed against him at one point. She dropped off, her head on his chest, her body curled against his. He sat there watching the beautiful and tragic Lara with her lover Yuri, feeling the impossibility of their situation, and wondering in spite of himself how it would turn out.

  He thought about taking Angie to bed for the night, but it wasn’t all that late yet and he knew she’d wake soon. It was probably the food that did it rather than any lingering tiredness.

  Sure enough, she woke about twenty minutes later. He could feel the change in her body as she became more alert. She looked up at him and smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to nap.”

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “You must have needed it.”

  He loved having her beside him. Trusting him as she slept.

  “I’m not typically a napper. I’ll get back to normal soon.”

  She didn’t push away from him. He liked that. She snuggled closer. He slipped a hand beneath the blanket she’d tugged over her body and cupped her ass cheek. She didn’t say anything as he caressed her.

  He tried to pay attention to Lara and Yuri, but the sensation of Angie’s skin beneath hi
s hand, and her soft body pressed beside his, made the blood start to flow south.

  “Colt,” she choked out a short while later.

  “Yeah, minette?” He tipped his head down to meet her gaze.

  She surged up, straddling his lap, and pressed her mouth to his. “This,” she whispered against his lips. “You make me crazy.”

  She plunged her tongue into his mouth. Her hair fell around them, curtaining them. He speared his fingers into it and cupped her head. He knew what he wanted this time. They kissed, long deep kisses that made him harder than stone. And when he’d had enough of that, he pushed her onto her back and reached beneath his shirt to hook his fingers into her panties.

  He stripped them off easily. Dropped them to the floor.

  “Colt,” she said as he unbuttoned the shirt and parted it. He didn’t remove it though. He wanted to see her spread out before him, his shirt hugging her body.

  “My turn,” he told her before dropping to suck her nipples. She gasped and speared her fingers into his hair.

  He dropped lower, over her belly, kissing her sweet pale skin. He made his way lower, his shoulders between her legs. He looked up at her. She bit her lip, her eyes heated and sexy.

  “Do you know what I’m about to do?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me you want it.”

  He knew she did, but he wanted to hear her say it.

  “I want it. Your tongue on me. In me. Make me come, Colt.”

  That was all he needed to hear. He spread her apart with his thumbs. Then he licked her in one long swipe, from wet seam to clit. She moaned.

  It made him bolder. He flicked his tongue against her clit, swirled around it, sucked it. She squirmed and moaned and it spurred him on. He wanted to make her scream. He wanted to taste her when she came and know it was because of him.

  He added two fingers, fucking her slowly, hooking them into that area that contained her G-spot. Her hips gyrated and bucked, but he didn’t let up.

  When she came apart, it was something to behold. Her eyes popped open, widening as she stared at him. “Colt….”