“Mmmmm,” I moan as he thrusts faster, still stroking, stroking, stroking.
I close my eyes, remembering the urgency of his cock in the closet, the way he held me tightly, the way he forced me to hold his dick and squeeze. I recall his powerful body, the golden rings in his green eyes, and the fierce way he approaches everything in his life. I think about how much he lit up when we worked together, and he saw my abilities.
Colby might be a bossy, moody asshole, but he’s a good man. A hard-working man.
A sexy, controlling brute of a man.
And when it happens, when I start to come, I have to flop forward onto the bed. There’s no strength left to support me. All of it has pulsed through me in a rush. Like a fire igniting too much fuel, I blaze hot and burn in wave after wave of pleasure.
I’m expecting Colby to carry on until he comes too, but he pulls out and flips me back over, settling between my legs to lick up my arousal like a ravenous dog at a bowl. My legs are jello, my heart a wild drum pounding out a fierce beat. Sweat beads on my top lip, but I have to lick it away because my hands are still fixed tightly over my head. He winds me up like an automaton with his tongue, matching his brother’s skill, but he doesn’t let me come again. He teases me to the brink of insanity and smiles against my trembling flesh when he stops just before.
When Colby’s had his fun and eaten his fill, he spreads my pussy lips wide with his thumbs and pushes his thick cock back inside me. This time, I watch the undulations of his hips and the rippling of his abs as he works and works. I salivate at the sweat tricking between his rounded pecs and wish I could move so I could lick the salt from his skin. Our eyes meet, and Colby smirks, so damned pleased with himself and me. I can see the happiness in his expression, the relief, as though months of holding himself in a certain posture are now over, and he’s free to relax.
This is the Colby that I saw glimpses of but was never sure really existed.
This is the Colby who can break me open, physically and emotionally.
He licks his thumb so lasciviously that I blush and slicks it over my clit. It’s too much but, at the same time, not enough. But Colby knows. He seems to know what to do, stroking around but not making direct contact. Working me until I’m so close again that lights flicker behind my eyelids, and my body arches hungrily toward him.
Twice?
Is it really going to happen twice?
Of course, it is. I don’t know how I ever doubted. Colby is competitive to a fault.
This time we come together, me with my neck arched and eyes so tightly closed that my eyelids hurt, Colby gripping my thighs so viciously it’s as though he’s fearful of floating away and never returning.
He flops forward, bracing over me on one arm, his body heaving with each breath, sweat dripping and cooling between my breasts. Our eyes meet, and in his, I see the same expression as when old friends bump into each other unexpectedly after many years. It’s like I’m familiar but also a surprise.
“Oh god. I’ve wanted to do that for too fucking long,” he says.
“And you pretended all this time to hate my guts.”
He shakes his head. “It’s you who hates our guts. Well, mine mostly.”
I shrug because explaining our fractious relationship over the past few years would open wounds I’d rather leave bandaged. Getting into my resentment and jealousy of their interactions with my mom would make me sound pathetic and destroy the moment. And admitting I’m jealous of them for having a father who sticks to them like glue would be even worse.
“I think the fact that I’m half naked and tied to your bed speaks a different story.”
His hands reach out to loosen the tie, and I bring my arms down, grateful to have some movement in them again. When he sees the red marks that cuff each of my wrists, he brings one to his lips and kisses it softly. It’s the gentlest gesture I’ve ever seen Colby make.
“You know you haven’t kissed me yet.”
“I haven’t?” He cocks his head to one side.
“You almost did the night we were working on our presentation.”
“I wanted to.” The admission comes with a shoulder shrug. “I could have killed Micky and Seb…but maybe it was for the best.”
“How come?”
“Kissing is different from fucking?” He shrugs again. “I know how to make you come using my body. I’m good at that part, but I don’t know what you want from this, Ellie. Sex is one thing, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but kissing is relationship territory. Kissing is about connection. Is that what you want from me? From my brothers?”