Page 65 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

“Jesus. Okay.” He dropped his forehead against hers. “You want to hear about how I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the moment I met you? That I’ve stripped my cock raw for the last three weeks, obsessed with—with wondering what you taste like?” Words tumbled off his tongue. An avalanche of confessions. “Is that what you want to hear? That the first time I met you, you were wearing an engagement ring and I still wanted you? I wanted you the minute I saw you and—fuck, who wouldn’t? You’re so fucking gorgeous you broke my goddamn brain.”

“More.” She reached up, scraping her nails against his neck, watching enthralled as faint pink lines rose along his skin. Heat pulsed between her thighs. “Keep talking.”

He panted against her neck, breath hot and sticky. “I left work last week and I—I couldn’t even make it home.” He laughed, ragged and frazzled. “I fucked my fist in the bathroom thinking about you. I fell to my knees on the floor of the public bathroom inside the courthouse.” He huffed against her collarbone. “Do you know how desperate you’ve got to be to kneel on that floor? It’s disgusting and I did it. I did it thinking about you.” He mouthed at her throat, teeth scraping her skin over her pulse. “I spilled over my knuckles thinking about my tongue up your cunt, licking you out until you came all over my face. I thought about you dripping down my goddamn chin and—fuck if I didn’t come so hard I saw stars behind my lids in a public courthouse bathroom.” His teeth scraped against her jaw. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Holy shit.

The image of Colin hunched over, fist stripping his cock was so vivid inside her head it was like she was right there, watching it happen. She could practically hear the slap of skin against skin, and it made her drip, underwear drenched.

“More.” She buried her fingers in his thick chestnut-colored hair and tugged. Colin choked on a noise that was half gasp, half groan, one hundred percent unreservedly filthy. His hands slapped against the door on either side of her, a groan spilling from his lips. “Tell me more.”

He pressed her against her door, hands on her waist, damn near respectable until he ground against her. The rigid line of his cock pressed against her hip, unmistakably hard.

“I think it’s obvious what I want.” His hands migrated to her hips and then lower, palms cupping her ass. “I’m far more interested in—finally—hearing what you want.”

Everything south of her navel was hot, panties ruined, thighs damp. Drenched and Colin hadn’t even touched her underneath her clothes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He turned his head to the side, pressing his lips against the fragile skin of her wrist. “Maybe I want to hear you say it.”

She trapped her lip between her teeth, trying not to smile. “Well, I haven’t gotten myself off in any public restrooms while thinking about you, if that’s what you’re asking. My bedroom, on the other hand...”

“Jesus.” He groaned. “Are you trying to kill me?”

She arched against him. “I’m kind of attached to coming before you die. What you do after is your business.”

Colin laughed, low and broken. “What a fucking way to go out. Here lies Colin Beyn McCrory—”

“Bean?” She giggled. “Your middle name is Bean?”

“No, Beyn. It’s a family name. Means life in Gaelic. Now hush, I’m eulogizing myself.” He cleared his throat. “Here lies Colin Beyn McCrory, he died doing what he loved most—eating pussy.”

Truly whacked him on the shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Not classy enough for you?” Colin grinned. “Okay, how about... he suffocated between the thighs of the prettiest, smartest, funniest, bitchiest girl he ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Better. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” He reached down, fingers flirting with the hem of her dress. “Will it get me between your thighs?”

Her breath stuttered inside her chest. This was happening. It was really happening. She was going to have sex with Colin.

God, when was the last time she vacuumed? Dusted? God, she better not have left her laundry lying on the floor or she was going to kick her own ass into next week.

She rested her hand on the doorknob. “I mean, admission isn’t exactly free but—”

One second Colin was standing, and the next he was on his knees in front of her, kneeling on the “I Knew You Were Trouble” doormat she’d purchased off Etsy.

Talk about providence. Because Colin McCrory? Was the definition of trouble.

And he looked damn good on his knees.

He smoothed his palms up the outside of her thighs, stopping at the hem of her dress. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, looking up at her through his lashes. “You have no idea, Truly. No fucking clue all the things I’ve thought about. Licking your pussy until you screamed. Until you fucking creamed.” Colin bent forward and licked the stripe of bare skin above her knee. “Can I?” He pressed a kiss against the dimple at the top of her knee. “Please?”

No one had ever begged to—to fuck, eat her out before. Justin had done it, but only after she’d showered and he’d always expected a blowjob in return. Which, hey, Truly liked the weight of his cock against her tongue so it was hardly an imposition, but she’d never liked how... how transactional it felt. Justin had never gotten down on his knees and pleaded, never looked up at her with pupils blown. Never sounded like he was starving for it. For her.

“Here?” she squeaked. In the open, where anyone could see? “Outside?”

He mouthed at her thigh. “You got a problem with that, St. James?”

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