Heart So Hollow (Dire Wolves Book 1), page 35
The last word flips a switch somewhere deep in the primal caverns of my brain. My thighs tense and I reach up with one hand and hook my fingers over the waist of his black pants. With the other, I tear the top button loose and yank the hem of his shirt up and out of the way.
“You still love fighting me, don’t you?” Colson mutters, stroking my cheek and dragging his thumb back and forth over my mouth, “Makes it that much better when I tear you up.”
“Shut the fuck up, Colson,” I hiss, smacking his hand away from my face.
As much as I want to call him a liar, Colson is right. I refuse to be a cowering waif threatened into submission. Instead, I want to be consumed by whatever sinful and treacherous entity is possessing me, not have a conversation about it with the devil himself. I don’t want to acknowledge what’s going through my mind or what’s making me ache in a way I shouldn’t be. I just want to shove it deep down into a ball of cancer in my soul.
“Yes, ma’am,” he groans, leaning back against the cabinet.
My palm brushes over his muscles, tense with anticipation as I hit the edge of his vest and tug his pants lower on his hips. I didn’t want to look before when I was eyeing his weaponry and wishing I’d slammed the door in his face, but now I’m eye-level with the outline of his cock, straining against the black fabric, and all I want to do is take it out and make him say more filthy things to me in his tantalizing voice.
But, hell, if I’ll make it that easy for him.
Slowly, I run one hand up the front of his pants, feeling his length, tight and constricted. When I do, his abs tense and his fingertips turn white on the edge of the cabinet. I hope it’s painful. I should just get up and leave him like that, but I probably wouldn’t make it halfway to the door. So, with one final tug, I free him with my other hand.
God. Damn.
I shouldn’t like what I see. I shouldn’t start salivating as soon as I see Colson Lutz’s enormous cock right next to my face. As if I don’t remember it…
I should shut my eyes and curl into a shameful ball on the floor. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? But, instead, a shiver runs through my core down to my legs as body memory kicks in. I remember every inch of him and what happened the last time I started taking off his clothes. And now, I just want to play his game and be as much of a prick as he’s being to me.
When I glance up, I notice he’s gazing down at me, biting his lip hard.
I feel a smile threatening to betray my scornful exterior, “What’s the matter, Colson?” I taunt him, my tone brimming with malice.
There’s a flash of excitement in his eyes as he shifts his weight and his mouth curls into a cruel smile, “You know I love hearing your pretty voice say my name, but you have five seconds to open your mouth and put my dick inside it.”
I glare up at him, “You might lose it.”
“Baby, baby, baby…” Colson whispers melodically with a shake of his head, “we both know you’re a terrible liar. Five…” he starts counting, “four…three…”
“Or what?” I shoot back.
Colson exhales with exasperation and reaches down, combing his fingers through my hair at the back of my skull. In an instant, he clenches his fist and gives my head a jerk, drawing a yelp from me.
He tilts my head back and leans down, “Or I choke you with it like a good little cum slut,” he snarls.
With a twitch of his shoulder, his muscles flex and he smacks me across my left breast. My jaw drops in shock and I wince, letting out a muted cry at the sudden sting radiating through my chest. Colson clenches my hair tighter, holding me still.
“You remember what that’s like, don’t you?” He cocks his head, “If you wanted me to face-fuck you, you should’ve just said so.”
Drawing a deep breath through my nose, I shift my eyes to Colson’s arm resting on my shoulder. I slowly exhale, my face softening when I meet his eyes. A moment later, he loosens his grip, understanding the subtle change in my demeanor. Part of me hates that we can still communicate through facial expressions alone. I hate even more that I lean into his hand when he starts gently massaging my scalp until the pain dissipates and all I feel are his fingertips sending electrical currents down my spine.
He releases my hair and drops his hands back to the edge of the cabinet. Fisting his base, my mouth falls open and I slide his cock over my tongue. All of a sudden, it’s four years ago and I’m back inside his Bronco, next to the river, on that dark highway, and inside his house. It’s just me and him in the dead of night and I don’t want to leave.
A dull hum builds in Colson’s chest as I lean into his hips and tongue the underside of his shaft, “God, baby, you’re still so good,” he groans under his breath, “so fucking good…”
A heatwave rushes through my stomach and down between my thighs. I should be disgusted, but his voice is like a mainline of dopamine. My hips relax and I sink further down, letting my jaw go slack so I can take him deeper. Goosebumps explode over my back while my muscles flex and contract with each utterance and sound he makes. My own body is betraying me. Reaching up, I run my other hand up Colson’s shirt, beneath his vest, to feel the contours of his muscles with each labored breath. And then I get curious.
As gently as I can, I slide my hand down to pull his pants lower on his hip, and then I feel them. My fingers brush over the familiar, raised streaks of flesh that aren’t like the rest. His muscles tense and he winces at my touch, but he doesn’t pull my hand away. His fingers wrap around my wrist and press my hand against his bare skin. I move my fingers ever so slightly, feeling the smooth tracks, but there are also rougher ones.
Much newer ones...
The tighter he squeezes my wrist and the more I feel his body heat against my palm, the more my heart feels like it’s going to liquify in my chest. It shouldn’t, but it does. It’s not supposed to, but it does. And before I can catch myself, an involuntary moan escapes my throat, making me cringe. But I can’t stop, the desperate breaths pour out, trailed by muted whimpers.
Colson curls one hand around the back of my neck, “Keep making noise for me,” he moans, “and finish me like a good girl.”
When he says it, I swear I feel myself gush and my legs almost collapse under me. I want to crumble into a million pieces all over the carpet. When I let out another whimper, he pulls me forward until his cock hits the back of my throat, eliciting a muted curse under his breath.
He weaves his fingers through my hair, “God, I need your throat,” he groans through his teeth, “show me how tight you get when you choke around me.”
Then Colson takes whatever shred of control I thought I had and decides to break me with it. He shows absolutely no mercy, pulling back and thrusting his cock into the back of my throat before I can even take a breath. My gag reflex catches and I lurch forward, grabbing the waist of his pants to brace myself. Tears well in my eyes and, no matter how hard I push against his hips, he has me in a vise grip. His pace changes and moments later I feel him shudder as a surge of warm liquid fills the back of my mouth.
Before I can catch my breath, Colson jerks my head off of him until I’m looking at the ceiling. He holds my head too far back for me to swallow, forcing me to breathe through my nose so I don’t drown in his cum. The corners of my eyes are wet with tears, his release dripping down the corners of my mouth and pooling on the back of my tongue. I’m still squeezing fistfuls of his pants, trying to keep my balance as my chest heaves.
Pushing off the cabinet, he plants his boots on either side of my knees and bends down, still gripping me by the hair and hovering directly over my face, “You still love when I fill your mouth, don’t you?” he murmurs, bringing his other hand up to squeeze my jaw in the crook of his thumb.
While holding my head steady, he sucks in his cheeks and shifts his jaw back and forth a couple times. Then he lowers his face to mine and spits a mouthful of saliva into my open mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut, huffing a breath through my nose when I feel his spit sliding into the back of my throat.
Colson releases my jaw and hooks his index finger over my teeth, swirling it around over my tongue and against the inside of my cheeks. When he takes it back out, he drags his finger across my mouth, smearing it over my lips until they’re painted with his slick opaque gloss.
“Swallow,” he commands.
Kneeling motionless between his legs, he lets me tilt my head forward again. I swallow hard, tasting his cum diluted with saliva, and a moment later, he jerks me to my feet and pushes me back onto the cabinet until my shoulders hit the wall.
“I knew you still liked drinking me straight,” Colson teases, “now lick off the only makeup you need to look pretty,” he flicks my bottom lip with his tongue, “and then thank me for it.”
He hovers over me, his hungry gaze drifting from my eyes to my mouth as he waits for me to comply. I close my eyes and clench my jaw in defeat, then slide my tongue over my lips, tasting his slick release again as I lick them clean.
He brushes his nose back and forth against mine, “Let me hear it.”
Maybe I can allow myself one moment, one moment where I don’t feel completely guilt-ridden and mortified. Would that be so terrible?
Yes, it would.
I’m already here, aren’t I? I’ve already taken his cock halfway down my throat and let him play mad scientist and treat my mouth like a test tube.
Fuck him, you didn’t let him do anything.
I try to rationalize—just like he said—try to decide whether to indict him or myself for what’s happening. But the longer I feel the heat radiating off his skin and inhale the sweet scent emanating from the heavenly place between his chest and throat, the voice of reason gets more distant. And when he opens his mouth again, I can’t hold back anymore.
“I don’t have all day, baby,” he breathes against my cheek, sending an agonizing current down my back and between my thighs.
“Thank you,” it comes out as a shaky whisper as I squash my trepidation and give in to temptation.
Clenching his t-shirt at the shoulder, I pull Colson to me and devour him, wrapping my other arm around his neck while his tongue explores my mouth in long, deep strokes. The deeper he kisses me, the more I feel my hips rolling into him. Until finally I lift one leg and wrap it around his waist, pulling him even closer as his knives and keys and the rough Kevlar scrape against my chest through my thin shirt.
I wish he’d take off his body armor, but at the same time I hope he doesn’t.
I flinch when my knee bumps against his weapon, but he doesn’t seem to care. He grabs my thigh and lifts it clear of his holster, swinging it around his waist. My ankles lock around his back as he jerks my hips against his, making my chest cave when I feel how hard he is again.
He starts grinding against me, hard and slow, making me squirm beneath him, “You want me to take you right here, don’t you?” he smirks.
I shake my head no, but I can’t even look him in the eye. My conscience has decided I’ve fucked around long enough, but I still can’t bring myself to let go of him.
“I can’t imagine how wet you must be right now,” he slides his hand between us and starts pulsing against my clit with his thumb, “maybe enough to fit me on my first try.”
“Colsss—” I hiss, digging my nails into his shoulders.
“You remember the fun I had with your tight little cunt?” he smiles bitterly, “Now that I know what you can do, I’m going to ruin myself on you,” he latches onto my neck, “soak myself in your pussy and fuck you numb, right here.” He grabs my ass and slams my groin against his cock, “You want me to tie you up again and fuck you like a good girl?”
Against every fiber of my being, I start nodding. His words alone are going to make me come all over this cabinet. Gritting my teeth, I will myself to reverse course and shake my head like I can redact my thoughts. I must look like a crazy person.
Whatever—he’s used to it.
Colson stills and relaxes his body, “Good,” he lets his arms fall away from me, “then think about which hole you’d like me to fill next, while you’re picking out that pretty, white dress.”
He takes a step back and, suddenly, the shame smacks me across the face like a rogue wave. I’m left sitting on the edge of the cabinet, submerged in a violent whirlpool of humiliation and fury. Hot tears well in the corners of my eyes, but I clench my jaw and manage to stave them off. When I finally meet Colson’s eyes again, they’re burning a hole through my forehead.
His mouth twitches with malice and he nudges his belt toward me with his boot, “Now, put your man back together again.”
A tremor runs through my chest as I shift uncomfortably.
Fucking asshole.
“You aren’t my man,” my voice cracks with indignation.
“Aren’t I?” Colson snarls, his tone turning to poison.
“Put your own goddamn clothes back on,” I seethe through my teeth.
Something ignites behind his eyes and for a moment I’m petrified I’ve awakened some nightmarish beast. Colson takes a step toward me, so close that his Kevlar touches my chest, “Unless you want me to start taking you apart,” he looks me up and down, “move.”
I tell myself I shouldn’t be afraid of him, but my sense of self-preservation is strong and I know what he can do. It’s complicated and bizarre, but I still remember what it’s like to be on the receiving end of his wrath—accidental or not.
Taking a deep breath, I grab the belt loops on either side of Colson’s hips, giving them a harsh jerk upward. He leers at me as I reach around his waist to pull his black t-shirt down and start tucking it back in. I work my way around his waist to the front, refusing to look at him.
“You’re really good at this,” his voice switches back to a gentle tone.
I jerk the front of his pants toward me to button them, “Being bullied by you?”
“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” he slides his hand around the side of my neck, “that you’re not still soaking wet for me right now.”
He leans down and nudges my head to the side, brushing his lips along the nape of my neck as I slide my hand down the front of his pants to smooth down his shirt. He’s still hard, like nothing ever happened.
You already know he gets off on shit like this.
Colson pulls back and smiles as I finish tugging his zipper up as roughly as I can, “Now you can put my belt back on.”
Kneeling down again, I sift through all the equipment until I find the buckle. Once I pull it straight and find the other end, I toss the entire monstrosity behind his boots and start walking it up the backs of his legs. Once I finally reach his hips, he’s no help, whatsoever. Instead, he stands with just enough slack that when I pull the belt taught, his hips press harder against mine. He takes it as an invitation to snake around the side of my head and brush his tongue along the edge of my ear.
“I can’t see,” I say through clenched teeth, debating whether to smack him or drop his belt onto the floor again.
Neither would probably end well.
“Just concentrate, baby,” he whispers into my ear.
But I can’t. It takes every iota of willpower I have not to drop his belt and pull him back on top of me, and he knows it. Because he lives on some twilight plane of existence where he can vacillate, at-will, between spite and adoration, between fire and ice.
I long blink, trying to focus when he reaches up and hooks his fingertips in the neck of my shirt. He gently pulls it to the side to expose my collarbone and leans down, brushing his tongue over the contours and slowly kissing my shoulder. I recoil when his hair tickles the side of my face and I feel his teeth on my skin. When he starts pulling my shirt lower, I give him a sharp shove in the chest with my shoulder.
“Stop it,” I clip, barely keeping hold of his belt buckle.
Colson straightens up, smiling as he smooths my shirt back over my shoulder and chest, “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”
“What?” I mutter, not looking at him.
“Dressing me.”
“I’ll never dress you,” I balk at the thought.
“I bet you will,” he muses, tipping his chin up, “one day.”
“Maybe in a straight-jacket…”
“If that happens, it means they took us to the asylum together. Wouldn’t that be nice, being locked away with me with no escape?” He bows his head and leans in closer, lowering his voice to the same lulling tone as before, “You and me, every day and every night, fucking each other senseless. Then you wouldn’t have to hide your crazy so much.”
“Shut. Up.” I give a harsh tug with each word and finally pull the strap tight enough to snap the clip, “The only reason I’m doing this is so you don’t get me fired.” It’s a lie, and he knows it.
Colson’s expression changes to one of genuine concern, “I would never get you fired,” and the look in his eyes tells me he means it. Then he hesitates and the way he looks at me says something totally different, “but I’ll gladly rearrange the rest of your life.”
My breath catches and my tone turns to desperation, “Why are you doing this?”
“To punish you,” he deadpans, “this time, for breaking your promises.”
After a stunned pause, my face twists into an indignant scowl, “What—”
A sudden pop cuts through the office. I wince in pain, my eyes popping as a stinging sensation radiates across my left ass cheek. Now Colson seems to tower over me, his expression turned almost resentful.
“Shh,” Colson taps his fingertip against my bottom lip, his face like stone.
My eyes round and I stare up at him in shock.
His tone is quiet and measured, “I know you remember every single moment of that night. You remember what you told me?”
My stomach drops as the words echo through my head, words I’ve tried to forget over and over again, but I never can. The truth is in the eyes, and Colson sees it in mine.
“Yeah, you do,” he drawls with a cruel smile, “because Brett Ashley Sorensen never forgets anything. What was it?”
