by Lindsey Hart
“What?”
“I squirted soap in my eyes.”
“Jesus,” Colette cursed and the way she said it made him feel like she didn’t curse out loud all that often.
Her feet slapped against the bathroom tile and the tap switched on and a few seconds later something was shoved into his hands.
He didn’t waste time upending the bucket of freezing water right onto his face. He shuddered as the cold water hit him like a second slap, jarring him half out of his skin.
“You couldn’t have bothered with making it not frigid?” he snarled as he groped blindly for the towel that landed in the tub with him. His eyes were pouring tears, trying to cleanse themselves of the wretched shit that the hotel tried to pass off as soap. They might as well have filled the fucking thing up with bleach.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think there was time.”
There was a rush of air and something soft hit him at the waist. He groped around with his hand, felt terrycloth, and brought it up to his face.
“Oh my god.” Colette’s horrified tone drifted over to him two seconds before he reached out blindly, searching for her to help him- even though he would normally have rather died than admit he needed it, but half blind, with his arms mangled, he could use a hand getting out of the forsaken slippery tub.
For four hundred fucking dollars, he actually expected a separate shower, not some stupid tub with a shower curtain.
His fingers brushed something sleek and when Colette gasped and her hand closed around his, he thought she actually meant to try and get him back to being vertical. Obviously, he thought wrong, because when he pulled, she let out a bark of surprise and as he tried to force his weight up, something heavy and warm came crashing down on top of him.
This time it wasn’t the shower curtain.
“You asshole!” A small fist was planted right in the center of his chest, and another caught him under the jawline for good measure.
He might have been having one hell of an off day, but his athletic instincts kicked in and he managed to get his hand up in time to block the blow that followed.
“Stop hitting me!” He ground out, trying to unglue his eyelids, which felt like they’d been crazy glued shut, so that he could see what the hell was going on.
“You did that on purpose! You- you beast!”
“I didn’t do anything on purpose,” he pleaded, scrubbing at his face with one hand while he held her tiny, warm fist in the other.
“You did!” Colette panted, right above him. “You hauled me in here on purpose and you’re a pervert and you’re naked and your- ugh- it’s pressing right into me!” She wriggled, trying to get away.
He hadn’t been hard before. At least not all the way hard, but feeling her warm little hips grind down on him blinded him far worse than the soap had, and what do you know, despite his bad luck and the fact that his eyes and arms felt like they’d been on the wrong end of a battle with a chainsaw, his happy stick got real happy real fast.
“Oh my god! You’re doing that on purpose now!” Colette struggled against him, tearing her hand free.
But she didn’t climb out of the tub.
Blaze froze, waiting for her to scramble off of him and get clear. He wouldn’t stop her. He would never have forced her to be anywhere near him if she didn’t truly want to be. At least, if she was being honest with him. And with herself. He certainly hadn’t meant for her to literally fall into his lap. He gave her time to get away.
But she didn’t.
She just sat there, frozen.
He cracked a lid and through the painful haze, he made out her face, swimming closer as she leaned forward. He inhaled sharply when her hands wrapped around his neck like he was a magnet. Her hands twisted around his neck like they belonged there, so hot, hotter than the water that burned him in the shower a few minutes earlier. Hotter than the pain racing through his arms and his eyes and his cock and his blue fucking balls, because god, he wanted her.
He forced himself to be still, to let her come to him, if that’s what she wanted.
He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever let a woman make the first move. Or ever actually let anyone touch him for any other reason other than to fuck him. He rarely ever kissed. He rarely wanted to. He didn’t do cuddling or intimacy or sweet little gestures. He fucked. Hard and fast, sometimes dirty, sometimes not. Whatever they wanted, he made sure they got it. He always left his partner in crime satisfied. Generally, three or four big O’s satisfied. But touching? That was pretty much off limits.
Colette’s face hovered near his for a second. He wished he could see her clearly, but all he could make out was a grainy shadow before her hot breath burst over his lips and her mouth was smashed up against his.
He met her halfway, driving her face back with the force of it, but she hung on, her nails biting into his shoulders as their tongues mashed and tangled. She melted against him, soft and warm, pliable and lush, even with her clothes still on. She kissed him like she wasn’t a damn virgin and it was her last kiss on earth. She kissed him like she wanted to drown him and kill him and ruin him.
Blaze couldn’t help it. He reached up and gripped her face with both his hands, curling his fingertips into her sweet little jawline and whisper soft cheeks. He crushed her mouth beneath his, eating at her lips, the animal in him ten seconds away from being fully unleashed. He’d waited for her. For this. For so fucking long. He’d imagined doing this, doing so much worse, to her for years. He bruised her lips, nipped them between his teeth, drew his tongue over the wounded spots, then went back for more. It shocked the hell out of him that she gave as good as she got.
When she ripped her face away to take a shuddering, raspy, desperate breath, he found that his tongue had a use other than for sticking it down her throat. “Clothes off,” he commanded. “Get those damn clothes off now.”
“But- but I…”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly. “I’m not planning on stealing your v-card in a gross hotel room. I doubt that would be up to your romantic standards and even I have a conscience.”
“You don’t know what my standards are,” Colette panted.
He blinked, trying to get his eyes to freakin’ focus and finally more than just a shadowy blur swam into view. Colette was kneeling in the tub, straddling his hips, and her hands were working her clothes. She deftly unzipped the jacket she had on and flung it onto the bathroom floor. The t-shirt she had on underneath followed suit and then so did her bra.
Between squirting soap in his eyes and nearly killing himself slipping in the shower and now, something strange had happened. Something that was nothing short of a damn miracle because Colette was actually undressing for him. Willingly.
Either he’d finally worn her down or after seeing him naked, maybe she’d changed her mind. Or maybe acting like a klutzy clown and being accidentally vulnerable for two seconds actually made him more human to her.
He dismissed that thought. Women didn’t like vulnerabilities. They didn’t want a guy who was going to cry at sappy movies with them. Or even turn that shit on in the first place. That wanted a guy who could give them that screw that they’d remember for the rest of their lives. They didn’t want all the other bullshit. The relationships. The complications. The fighting. The bullshit. Blah, blah, blah. He gave them what he wanted. What he himself wanted. No strings attached pleasure.
So why didn’t he want to give that to Colette? Why had he never imagined her like the rest? What was so different about her? And no. Her intact cherry wasn’t it.
His brain shut off right around the time Colette stood up, literally jumped out of the tub, and peeled her jeans off herself. Considering that they were slightly damp, skintight, and skinny jeans, she did get the hell out of them in record time.
She stood facing him. In red panties. Red lace panties.
Okay, there was no way she wasn’t into him and wore those panties on the off chance that they’d accidentally get a showing. No. Fucking. W
ay. She wanted this. She wanted him. She was just too prim and proper and high and mighty to accept it.
Or maybe she wasn’t, given that she was standing there naked.
Completely naked, because as he gaped at her through his still burning, abused eyes, she peeled those panties off her shapely hips and rolled them down a set of legs that belonged on a goddess. She stepped from them and stood there, half shy, half brazen, knowing full well that she was sexy as hell. Ultra-fuckable. The kind of sexy that destroys a man.
Perfect breasts. More than a handful, but not too much, with the perkiest dark raspberry nipples. A tight stomach that flared out to sweet curvy hips, legs that went on forever, and her delicate prize between them. So ripe. Already swollen and soaking wet. He could see her arousal glistening on her thighs, and her legs weren’t even fully parted.
His mouth watered and his stomach cramped violently. He got the hell out of the bathtub in record time, half blind, sore arms, blue balls and all.
What he wanted to do was take Colette by the hips, lift her onto the sink, wrap those long legs around his neck and fuck her into oblivion. Instead, he fell to his knees before her, because she was the one with the power. She was the queen. She was everything and god, he’d always known it. He didn’t want to scar her or ruin her. He didn’t want to break her. He wanted to teach her what it meant to fly. Teach her the meaning of her own power and sensuality in ways she had no idea were possible.
“Turn around,” he rasped hoarsely, blinking furiously because he wanted to enjoy as much of the show as possible.
She hesitated, casting him a scalding look that said if he was up to his normal asshattery, she was out of there.
He put up his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you, Colette. Never. No tricks. No games. I promise to keep my mouth shut. No, that’s not right. I promise not to say anything stupid. I just want to make you feel good. If you’ll let me. I promise that it will be the best thing you’ve ever done.”
One brow shot up nearly to her hairline. “I’ve done some pretty good things in my life. That’s a tall order you’ve given yourself.” She turned though, pivoting slowly, to rest her hands on the vanity.
He wanted so badly to command her that the words scalded the back of his throat, but he bit them back. Instead, he’d show her. He’d touch her reverently, gently, take his time, go as slow as she needed him to, even if it killed him. Given that his balls already felt like they were going to explode, there was a good chance that it might.
She slowly, reluctantly turned around, giving him a full view of her perfect ass. He took two steps, stopping right in front of her, and his knees hit the tile floor and it didn’t matter that it was hard or that they let out a crack of protest. Even on his knees, he was nearly taller than her. He was so much bigger and she was so small, so tiny in comparison. He loved the contrast between them, the silk of her skin against his hands as he gripped her thighs, the muted whimpers of pleasure torn from her and the low, feral grunts that were his.
“Blaze- I- this is…”
Her words died a hard death when his mouth hit her core. She was on fire, and so sweet that he wanted to weep and not just because the soap was still burning the hell out of his eyes. Her thighs quivered in his hands and her hips bucked back as she let out a throaty moan that echoed through the bathroom.
He parted the folds of the sweetest pussy he’d ever tasted and licked her slowly, exploring her with broad sweeps of his tongue. Colette wasn’t exactly the shy type of virgin, or maybe she just couldn’t help herself, because her protesting was done. Her hating him was over, at least for the moment. Instead, her hips rocked back into his face as he ate her noisily and she didn’t protest. She danced with him.
He wanted to command that she watch her face in the mirror, but he didn’t. He’d promised not to say anything stupid and to her, the dirty talk would probably just ruin whatever they were experiencing, so, for the moment, he shut the hell up and just focused on what he was doing.
Which was exploring, licking, pleasuring, while she thrashed back into his face.
She didn’t protest or pull away when he found her entrance and thrust his tongue up inside of her. He ate her like that, her juices like honey flowing down his throat. God. She wasn’t just honey. She was sunshine and rainbows and fucking fairy farts too.
She was delicious. Incredibly. So tight around his tongue that if they had to make a trip to the ER because he got stuck inside of her, it wouldn’t be surprising.
Blaze’s fingers grasped her thighs hard enough to bruise her, but she let him hold her open while he lashed her with his tongue. He ate her, plunging his tongue up into her tight heat until her legs were trembling, and her hips were grinding and her walls were clenching around his tongue. He ate her until she shattered, falling apart all around him. She threw back her head and screamed something incoherent, but it was proof enough that she didn’t hate him.
He pulled away when she was coming down because he had a few other tricks up his arsenal that he wouldn’t mind trying, but they involved her facing him so that he could watch the play of emotion flicker over her face as he gave her another climax and another.
Colette turned around slowly, her legs still visibly trembling, her fingers curled around the sink’s edge as if she needed it to hold herself upright.
Her eyes were wide, the pupils big, her lips swollen from his kisses earlier. She was beautiful. Glorious. Her hair had escaped its confines and swirled around her face, bracketing her delicate, flushed features.
“Is that all you’ve got,” she taunted him, still panting. “Honestly, I expected more from you, Blaze Hanson, so called sex god.”
Oh, that’s it. Game fucking is on.
He was about to open his mouth and start listing off all the things he wanted to do with her, for her, to her, and let her take her pick. Hell, she could even pick multiple items off the list if she wanted to, when she sauntered over, her hips swaying with her walk, her eyes glistening like she knew that he was watching, taking it all in, and that he was hopelessly affected.
That he felt her more than skin deep. That for him, this wasn’t just about pleasure and the slight upturn of her lips into an almost smirk, told him that she knew it.
He got to his feet right as she dropped to her knees. Right in front of him.
Blaze watched in stunned amazement as Colette reached out. Her tiny hand wrapped around the base of his shaft. He was so hard that hard was an understatement. He could probably split concrete with a single karate style chop of his cock.
Watching her tiny fist try, and not even come close, to wrapping around his girth, watching her eyes widen in amazement and listening to her breath hitch- it was pretty hard to keep his shit together. He’d never had a problem with premature shit before, but he was in serious danger of exploding all over Colette’s perky tits and her perfect raspberry hued nipples. God. He wanted to latch his mouth around those nipples and suck on them until she climaxed just from that.
“It looks like, Mr. Hanson, that I have you by the balls here.” Her other hand came up and she gripped him, literally, while she pumped his cock with her other hand.
“Fuck,” he ground out uselessly. For once, his smart mouth deserted him. He wanted to make fun of her for her snarky pun, ask her if that was the best she could do, but for some reason, his tongue was wrapped up in knots and language was a battle he wasn’t going to win. “You don’t have to-”
“I want to,” she breathed.
Her eyes swiveled upwards and his cock jerked in her hand. She let out a husky breath as a droplet of pre-cum formed at the tip and dribbled lower, onto her fingers. It glistened there in the overhead lighting. Despite himself, his hand came down to tangle in her hair, pulling the rest free from the elastic at her nape.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he tried again to warn her. “You get that pretty, pouty, fuckable little mouth anywhere near my cock and it’s game over. For both of us. I’m not g
oing to be able to control myself.”
Her eyes flicked back up to him. “Duly noted,” she said coyly. “Thanks for the warning.”
And then, Colette, little, sweet, virgin Colette, wrapped her swollen, pouty lips around his cock and sucked him hard, right to the back of her throat.
CHAPTER 15
Colette
“Christ,” Blaze swore above her head, as she sucked his cock into her mouth until she could feel him at the back of her throat.
She nearly gagged and pulled back just enough so that she wouldn’t embarrass herself. She rolled her tongue around his cock instead, tasting every single inch of his impressive length. He was salty and musky and dark tasting and she savored every single second of having him in her mouth. Every single second was new and frightening, astounding and amazing.
“Are you trying to kill me over here? You can’t go straight to deep throating without any warning.”
Colette proved him wrong by leaning forward, guiding him deeper into her mouth with the fist she had wrapped around his shaft. He jerked hard, his hips pushing forward involuntarily while he let out a groan that was half curse, half a sigh of pleasure he couldn’t keep inside.
She’d always thought that blow jobs were degrading for a woman. That being on her knees, sucking a man’s cock while he rammed in and out of her mouth, was vulgar. She might be a virgin but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen her share of movies, read magazines, or enjoyed smutty romances. She did all of those regularly. She’d just never seen the attraction.
She had to admit, with Blaze’s cock halfway down her throat, throbbing and pulsing in her mouth, then pulling back, smearing salty droplets all down her tongue, she finally got it. She got what all the fuss was about.
Because on her knees, she didn’t feel at all degraded. She didn’t feel dirty or used. She felt powerful. She felt a hell of a lot more than that. Sensations that she didn’t understand. She was on fire, the flames spreading over her skin, devouring every single inch of her. Her thighs trembled and it was more than just the aftershocks of the most insane climax she’d ever experienced. She knew that if she looked down between her legs, she’d find herself soaked. She could feel the droplets of her own arousal snaking down her thighs, running all the way to her knees.