“No,” she whispered.
“I know you’re still wet for me,” he said against her ear. He cupped her through her jeans. “I can feel the heat of you. And I should be patient. I promised myself I wouldn’t rush anything. But I’m also not a liar. I want you. Right now. Here. I want to fuck you hard and fast, and I don’t care who hears it.”
Jesus. If she ever had any doubt about if she could appreciate dirty talk, she had her answer. Phillip had always gone for the sweet and romantic words, the flattering ones. Once upon a time, she’d thought that was what she should want. A gentleman who told her loving things. But right now, filth was working like wildfire. Her whole body burned with the need to be touched, her nipples beading against her bra and her panties clinging to her.
Her body was taking over her brain, saying, Fuck it all. The nerves. The worry. The concern about who could and couldn’t hear them. None of it mattered right now. She scooted off him, stood, and tugged off her jeans.
He watched her every move, his gaze hooded, hungry. When she’d shucked the jeans, he touched the edge of her black panties. She’d worn one of the few sexy pairs she still owned. Even if she hadn’t planned on it, her subconscious must have been hoping for this when she’d gotten dressed to come over here. “Keep these on.”
“Okay.”
He reached behind him, opened the end table drawer, and pulled out a foil wrapper. She wondered if he had condoms stored in every drawer around the house. With the kinds of parties she’d seen over here, probably. He shifted on the couch and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear just enough. His cock sprang free—hard and ruddy and already glistening at the tip.
Her belly clenched low and tight. She’d seen him naked from afar, but in person, he was even more impressive. The man was big all over. She wanted to wrap her hand around that proud erection, lick it . . . freaking worship it. The urge took her aback. Never before had she had such a primal desire to get to her knees for the sole purpose of making a man feel good.
Colby’s gaze flared with dark need. “I like the way you’re looking at me, gorgeous. One day soon, I’ll let you do exactly what your eyes are promising. But right now, I need to be inside you. Straddle me.”
She shivered at the command and climbed on top. She had no idea why she still had he
r panties on, but after he rolled on the condom, she wasn’t left wondering for long.
He tugged the crotch of her underwear aside and ran his fingers along her slick folds. “If a certain someone walks in, you’ll be able to cover up quickly if you want.”
If she wanted . . . like it was a decision. But the more she pictured the possibility, the more she realized maybe it was her choice. Maybe he truly didn’t care if they screwed out in the open. The guy had let her watch him for months. “You’re a filthy, filthy man.”
He gave her a solemn nod and teased her clit with a maddening stroke. “I am. Still want me?”
“Hell, yes.”
He held her panties aside, positioned himself at her entrance, and started to ease inside. Oh, Jesus. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she hummed as the sweet sting of the breach skipped along her nerve endings. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone, and though she had toys at home, none were Colby’s size. Her body seemed to fight and beg all at once.
“Easy, now,” Colby said in that low, cajoling voice, his fingers tucked between them, working her clit. “There’s no rush. Relax and take me in slowly. You feel so good, baby, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
She pressed her forehead to his and concentrated on softening the tension in her body, on letting his beautiful, hard heat inside her. She was slick for him, so her nerves were the only thing fighting her. She was getting too in her head.
He gripped her hip, kneading the curve. “You know how fucking sexy you look right now. These panties shoved to the side like you were so in a hurry to get fucked, you couldn’t even bother to take them off. And you’re so wet against me. Look down and see us.”
She glanced down along the scant space between their bodies, and he moved his hand away so she could see their connection—that perfect carnal joining. The tightness in her muscles melted, and she took him the rest of the way ever so slowly, finally seating him deep.
He groaned and tipped his head back. “Fuck, yes.”
She was making her own sounds, lost in the feeling of being filled and stretched. By Colby. She was with Colby. Part of her wondered if she’d really fallen into some erotic dream and she’d wake up in her house in a few minutes—cold and alone.
Colby found her hot button again, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The noise in the kitchen had stopped. Keats either had bailed or was listening. She should probably be as discreet as possible. But when Colby began to pump into her, she couldn’t stay quiet.
“That’s it,” Colby said. “Ride me. Take what you’ve been wanting when you watched. Did you think about what my cock would feel like inside you?”
“Yes,” she said on a pant.
“Good. Because I sure as hell thought about how you would feel,” he said, his deep voice going gravelly. “How you would taste. What you would sound like when you beg. How this perfect ass is going to feel under my hand when I take you over my knee.”
She moaned, already close again.
“I can’t wait to see you surrender,” he said, a little breathless because now there was no more slow and easy. The couch springs protested beneath them. He was fucking her hard and deep and fast, gripping her hip and guiding her pace, each thrust punctuating his words. All the pent-up months of watching and being watched careening together in one desperate act between them.
“Yes. God.” She shuddered, barely holding back her orgasm, as he circled her clit with a rough fingertip.
He smiled against her sweaty neck. “No need to call me God. Sir or Colby will do.”