by K. Bromberg
He breathes out a laugh, that grin deepening as he shifts and lays us down on the pillows behind me. His face is inches from mine, his body supported on his elbows, and his knees between my thighs.
“Well this time, we’ll both know,” he says, inhaling a shaky breath as his steeled length presses at my opening.
I close my eyes as my body trembles beneath his, needing and wanting the bombardment of the all-consuming sensation I know is coming. “Look at me, Ry.” My eyes flutter open and look up to lose myself in the beauty of his face. “I want to watch you as I take you. I want to watch you as you let me love you.” He leans his head down and teases my lips with the whisper of a kiss before finding my eyes again. “I love you.”
As he says the three words he pushes his way into me, and I swear sparks ignite with our union because this time it’s more than just the physical connection. It’s the joining of our hearts, souls, and everything in between. I watch his eyes cloud with desire and darken with emotion as he seats himself fully into me.
“Sweet Jesus!” He groans as he begins to move, raking over every interior nerve possible. My body reacts instinctively, hips angling and back arching so I can draw every possible ounce of pleasure from this incredible man.
I feel bombarded by sensation. The slide of his skin across mine. The unhindered lust and unfettered love in his eyes. The soft groan of pleasure from the back of his throat. The rush of heat enveloping me as he grinds into me circling his hips before slowly pulling back out only to start all over again.
My body vibrates from this sensual high—a collision of everything with the most perfect timing that I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to.
Pressure builds and pleasure catapults me to a dizzying high as Colton finds a slow but steady cadence that allows him to draw out and drag over every last nerve. His eyes still hold mine, but I can see the pleasure start to edge out the need to watch me as his eyes close momentarily, his jaw set tight in concentration, his eyelids heavy, and nostrils flared.
“Colton …” I moan as a desirable devastation begins to rock through me, my muscles tense in preparation for the onslaught of sensation just within reach. With the call of his name, he shifts, drawing his hands down the length of my body as he sits back onto his knees. His hands sweep over the top of my sex, thumb grazing over my clit making me buck my hips up asking for more.
The lines of concentration on his face ease as his lips curl into a lascivious smirk. “You want more of that?”
All I can do is nod, my words lost to the onslaught of sensation. His fingers, careful of my newfound ink, grip the flesh at the sides of my hips, holding me firmly as his smile still plays over his face but his hips continue their painfully exquisite surge in and subsequent withdrawal. There is nothing I can do but focus, try to manage the all-consuming attack on my senses as he holds my gaze, driving me higher and higher. My thighs tense and my head falls back as the force of my impending climax heightens.
And then nothing.
Colton stops all movement stealing my orgasm with his sudden lack of motion. My head snaps up to look at him, frustrated, to meet green eyes dancing with mirth and full of restraint.
He leans forward, his heated length surging to unimaginable depths inside of me, dragging out an insuppressible moan I don’t even attempt to stop. His hands push the backs of my thighs forward as his face fills my entire line of sight. I can feel the heat of his panting breath on my face and see his muscles tighten as he controls his need to pound into me with reckless abandon and drive us to the brink fast and hard, the way I know he likes.
“Fuck, baby, you feel like Heaven,” he says as he leans forward and brushes his mouth to mine. He surprises me as he pushes his tongue between my lips and dominates the kiss in much the same fashion as he dominates my heart. I can sense his restraint slipping, can feel every sweet inch of him expand inside of me, can taste the desire mounting, need edging out all reason.
His mouth brands and claims me while his body slowly starts moving again—taking, taunting, pushing mine to accept his challenge. Liquid fire flickers to life again, molten lava singeing and refueling the inferno he’s just forced me to abandon. I swallow his groan as he rocks deeper into me, throbbing sparks of pleasure igniting my nerve endings.
He nips my bottom lip and breaks the kiss as he starts to pick up his tempo, drives into me with a passionate desperation as he drops his forehead to my shoulder. My body begins to tremble from the intense pull at my core while he continues his punishing rhythm. The room is filled with my soft moans, his inarticulate grunts, and the slap of skin against skin as he edges me higher and higher.
The scrape of his teeth along my collarbone is my undoing. Mindless pleasure seizes me as my body tightens all around him and free falls into rapturous oblivion as I surrender myself to him.
I have forgotten everything—he has made me forget everything—except for his scent, his sounds, his taste, his touch. My body crashes into the wave of sensation, his name on my lips, our bodies united as one.
“So fucking hot to watch you come undone,” he whispers as his stubble scrapes against my neck, his body stilling and then moving in and out of me ever so slowly to draw out the last remnants of my orgasm still firing through me. I pulse and tighten around his cock, my fingernails scoring his shoulders as I hold tight with each surge of pleasure.
“Fuck, Ry, that feels so fucking good!” He groans out as his hips start jerking, my own orgasm starting to milk his from him. And within a moment Colton is back on his knees, hands pushing my thighs up, and his hips are pounding into me as he chases his own climax.
“Come on, baby,” I pant out as I try to meet him thrust for thrust, surrendering myself completely to his needs.
His guttural groan fills the room as he hits his peak, his shuddering and body tensing while he rides out his own high. After a beat, he rolls us over, our hips remaining connected in the most primal of ways so that I’m lying atop him, my cheek on his chest where I can hear his thundering heartbeat.
And we sit like this for a moment, fingers drawing lazy lines over each other’s bare flesh, regaining our breaths, and calming our pounding hearts. The silence around us is so comfortable without the demons haunting the shadows. Yes, he’ll always have a part of him haunted and damaged, but for the first time ever he has someone he can share them with. Someone to help ease the burden, to help heal.
I sigh at the thought and am completely content as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you,” I whisper the words still overwhelmed with everything that has transpired this evening. His fingers continue tracing aimlessly over my spine. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of our bodies pressed against one another’s and the simplicity of his touch. And then my OCD kicks in as I mentally trace what his fingers are spelling, and I shift my head so my chin rests on my hands covering his sternum.
“What?” he asks innocently, despite the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and eyes reflecting the mischief I’ve come to love and expect from him. When all I do is raise my eyebrows, I feel the rumble of his chuckle through his chest and into mine.
“The alphabet, Ace?” I raise an eyebrow and try to bite back my own smile, but it’s useless.
“Yep. I’m seeing the alphabet in a whole new light these days,” he says, abandoning his letter tracing and trailing his finger down the top of my backside.
My laugh is overtaken by a sigh as his hand palms my ass. I can feel that ache he always has on low burn start to simmer anew. He starts to harden inside of me again and moisture starts to pool as desire is heightened by the complete connection of our bodies.
“And just what might your favorite letter be?”
He emits a full bodied laugh, his shaking body reverberating all the way down to his cock, now alert and fully buried within me. “Oh, baby, I’m kind of partial to your V. That’s the only place that I want to B.”
I can’t even laugh at his corny line because he chooses this moment to t
hrust his hips upward, my body moving with it, his skin rubbing my nipples and coaxing a pleasurable groan from my throat. My eyes close and body softens as his movements draw heightened responses from the flesh already swollen from him.
“Good God!” I sigh as he pulls me out of my post-catatonic orgasmic state and drags me under his spell once again.
The sun feels just as fucking good as the ice cold beer sliding down my throat and the sight of Rylee bending over in front of me. Fuck is my only thought as I adjust myself and think thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking with the boys here.
Will this ever end? To want her near? The want to watch her sleep and wake up next to her? My need to be buried in her? It’s been only three damn hours since we’ve left my bed and fuckin’ A, I’d love to drag her upstairs right now and have her again.
“Down boy!”
And there’s the voice that will make me go limp.
“’Sup, Becks.”
“Apparently you, if you don’t stop looking at her like you want to bend her over that lounge chair and fuck her into oblivion,” he says, taking a long sip of his beer.
Well, that’s always a thought.
I groan. “Thanks for the visual, dude, because that’s really not helping right now,” I reply with a roll of my eyes and shake of my head, before looking around to make sure the boys are far enough away they can’t hear us talking about how I want to defile their sexy-as-fuck guardian. And my God is she a walking wet dream. I shift in my chair again as I watch her squat down and adjust the top of her suit before slathering sunscreen all over Zander.
I shake my head thinking about her concern earlier in picking which swimsuit to wear with the boys coming over for a pool party. Even in the red one piece that she deemed matronly, every fucking curve of hers is on display like a goddamn road map tempting me to take it out for a test drive.
Dangerous curves ahead? Fuckin’ A. Bring. It. On. I’m a man that lives for danger. The thrill I get from it. And fuck if I’m not itching for the keys, right now.
Talk about revved and raring.
“By that sappy ass look on your face, I take it things are going good?” Becks asks as he sits down beside me and snaps me from my dirty thoughts.
“Pretty much.” I pop the top off of another bottle with the opener and take a drink.
“Please don’t tell me you’re gonna get all domesticated and shit on me now.”
“Domesticated? Fuck no.” I laugh. “Although the woman is hot as fuck in her heels pushing that grocery cart in front of me.” I can visualize it now and damn if the thought’s not making me ache to take her.
“You—Colton Donavan—stepped foot into a grocery store?” he sputters.
“Yep.” I raise my eyebrows and smirk at the look of shock on his face.
“And it wasn’t just to buy condoms?”
I can’t help it now. I love fucking with him. It’s just too goddamn easy. “Nah, no longer a requirement when you hold a frequent flier card to the barebacking club.”
“Jesus Christ, dude, are you trying to get me to choke on my beer?” He wipes beer off his chin that he spit out.
“I got something else you can choke on,” I murmur as my eyes are drawn back to Rylee bending over, my constant semi wanting to fly full staff. I’m so focused on her and my corrupt but oh-so-fucking awesome thoughts of what I can do to her later that I don’t hear what Becks says. “Huh?” I ask.
“Dude, you are one whipped motherfucker, aren’t you?”
I look over at him ready to defend my fucking manhood when I realize it’s right where I want it to be, held in Rylee’s fucking hands—the perfect mixture of sugar and spice. So I laugh out and just shake my head, bring the beer to my lips and shrug. “As long as it’s her pussy doing the whipping, I’m fucking game all day long.”
Becks chokes again but with laughter this time, and I pat him on the back as Ry looks over at us making sure he’s okay. “My God! That must be the best motherfucking voodoo pussy ever to tame Colton fuckin’ Donavan.”
“Tame? Never.” I chuckle and shake my head, leaning back on the chair behind me to look over at him. “But some asshole—er friend—made me realize how much I like the fucking alphabet.”
“That friend deserves a shitload of beer as a thank you then.” He shrugs. “That, or a mighty fine piece of ass in return.”
I snort out a laugh, grateful for his sarcasm to avoid talking about deep feelings and shit that I’m not really comfortable discussing. I’m just getting used to saying this kind of shit to Ry, I’m sure as fuck not going to be getting touchy-feely with Becks.
“She’s got a hot friend,” I tell him with a raise of my eyebrow, earning me a snort in return as I repeat what I said the night I talked him into inviting Ry to Vegas with us.
“She sure does,” he murmurs, but before I can respond, Aiden cannonballs into the pool and the splash hits us full on. We start laughing, comment forgotten, sunglasses now splashed with water.
“Hey,” he says, and I look back over at him. “I have to give you shit because that’s just the way we roll … but I’m really happy for you, Wood. Now don’t fuck it up.”
I grin at him. The fucker. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude.”
“Anytime, man. Anytime.” We sit in silence for a moment, both watching the boys around us acting like they’re supposed to be, kids. “So you ready?”
Becks’ voice pulls me from my thoughts and back to what I should really be focusing on: the race next week. First time back in the car since the accident. Pedal to the floor and the next left turn. And fuck if just the thought doesn’t make my blood pressure spike.
But I got this.
“Fuck, I was born ready,” I tell him, tapping the neck of my beer bottle to his. “Checkered flag’s mine for the taking.”
“Fuck yeah it is,” he says as he looks down at his phone that’s received a text, and my eyes drift back to Rylee and thoughts of a particular pair of checkered panties I never did get to claim. I sure as fuck need to fix that.
I shake my head as I sink back into my chair and watch the boys jumping in the pool and chicken fight one another. I sit and wait for it, but it doesn’t happen. That fucking pang of jealousy I used to get when I saw boys acting their age, acting how I never got to. Because even after I was adopted, the fear was still there, still raw as fuck.
Rylee catches my eye from across the deck and those fucking sexy-as-sin lips spread wide. Fuck me running. My balls tighten and chest constricts at the notion that I put that smile on those lips. The woman is my fucking kryptonite.
Who else would I allow to invite seven boys to my house for a pool party to celebrate summer being here? What other woman could I share my demons with and instead of running like a fucking banshee, she looks me in the eyes and tells me I’m brave? Who else would scar their skin to prove to me she’s in it for the long haul?
Motherfucking checkered flags and alphabets and sheets. When the fuck did all of this become okay with me?
I shake my head, pretending I don’t want it but fuck if I can’t look away from her for one goddamn second before my eyes find her again.
I lift the fresh beer Becks hands me and start to take a sip and look over at him as he shakes his head laughing at me. “What?”
“You are so going to fucking marry her.”
It’s my turn to choke on my beer. I double over in a coughing fit as Becks pounds me a little too hard on the back. “He’s fine!” I hear him say as I try to control the choking mixed with laughter burning its way up my throat. “He’s fine,” he says again, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.
“Fuck off, Becks!” I finally manage to get out. “Not gonna happen! No rings, no strings,” I say our old motto with a laugh. And then I look up to find Ry. She’s across the patio sitting on the edge of the pool, Diet Coke in hand, and is playing referee to the boys’ game of Marco Polo. Ricky gets caught as a fish out of water, and Rylee throws her head back in laughter at some
thing Scooter says to him.
And there’s something about her right now—hair highlighted from the sun, a carefree sound to her laugh, and obviously in love with everyone around her. Something about her being with the boys, making life normal for them at a place that has never really been a home until now—until her—hits me harder than that fucking rookie Jameson did in Florida. Has me thinking about the forevers and shit that six months ago would have never once crossed my mind.
It’s just gotta be Becks getting in my head. Fucking it up. The bastard needs to shut the hell up about shit that’s not gonna happen.
Never.
So why the fuck am I wondering what Ry’d look like wearing white? Why am I wondering how Rylee Donavan sounds out loud?
Never. I try to shake the thoughts from my head, but they linger, spooking the fuck out of me.
“So not gonna happen.” I laugh, not sure if I’m repeating the words to convince Becks or myself. I look back over at Ry for a second. Talk about jumping the gun when I haven’t even found the bullets to load it yet. Fucking Beckett. “Taming’s one thing, fucker. Ball and chaining?” I whistle out. “That’s a whole ’nother ball game I have no interest in playing.” I shake my head again at that shit-eating grin on his face as I rise from the chair. “Never.”
“We’ll see about that,” he tells me with that smirk I want to wipe from his face.
“Dude, do you feel that?” I ask, raising my arms out from my side and lifting my face to the sun before looking back down at him.
“Huh?”
“That’s called heat, Daniels. Hell can’t freeze if it’s still hot outside,” I toss over my shoulder before walking to the edge of the pool. Conversation over. No more discussion of marriage and shit like that.