Here lies Truly. She died with Colin McCrory’s fingers buried up her cunt.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you go with just one, did you?” He nuzzled into the damp thatch of neatly trimmed hair at the top of her mound, breathed deep, and—her cheeks prickled with heat that could give the sun a run for its money. “Truly, I’d live down here if you’d let me.”

“I can’t,” she said and yet, for some ungodly reason, she fisted his hair between her fingers and dragged him closer. “Colin.”

He rested his forehead against her hip, fingers working inside her, less a thrust than a relentless crooking against that bundle of nerves that made her breath hitch and her stomach clench. Little electric-like zaps of pleasure rippled up her spine, pressure blooming inside her like a storm.

“One more,” he panted, mouth open against her skin, breath hot and damp and—she was wrong. She’d been so sure the sight of Colin on his knees, staring up at her through his lashes, chin sticky with her come, was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. And maybe it had been. But this? Colin’s hips working, making shaky, aborted little thrusts, the outline of his cock visible, straining against the denim of his jeans like he was so turned on by eating her out that he couldn’t help himself? Fuck. “One more, baby. Please? Just give me one more and I swear to God I can die happy.”

Truly whimpered, riding the edge of something so big it scared her. Because she wasn’t just going to come, she was going to come apart, unravel at the seams. She knew it, with the level of certainty she knew her name and knew that Colin McCrory was going to be the end of her.

“Don’t stop.” She tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged his mouth back where it belonged. The scent of her was heavy in the air, musk mingling with the sweet perfume of the clematis crawling up the building. “Don’t or else I’ll—”

There wasn’t a threat on this earth that could properly capture let alone convey her sheer desperation. Not that it mattered. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Colin’s mouth was on her, lapping at her hungrily.

She was drenched, dripping down her thighs, the crack of her ass. A filthy slick sound filled the air, making her flush all the way to the roots of her hair as the pads of Colin’s fingers pressed harder, quicker, expertly against that perfect, magical spot. Everything inside her drew up tight, so tight, and then, all at once, snapped, pressure releasing rhythmically.

Distantly, she heard Colin swear. Just like she heard herself shout his name. He ignored her wail, kept going, curling his fingers hard against the front wall of her cunt, moaning against her when a sticky gush of fluid soaked the inside of her thighs.

She swatted the side of his face with limp fingers, oversensitive. Colin took the hint like a champ and left her clit alone, pressing messy kisses against her hip, the inside of her thigh, anywhere he could reach. He shuddered against her skin and her heart squeezed.

Down the block, a car alarm blared and Truly jumped. She giggled and leaned back against the knob, twisting her key in the lock with still-trembling fingers, punch-drunk and weak.

“Come inside?” she asked, the double entendre far from lost on her. “Not sure I want to press my luck out here and go for round three. That, and I’m pretty sure the condom in my purse is expired.”

He let loose an awkward chuckle. “We, uh, might have to wait for round three.”

She frowned.

Colin’s eyes lowered pointedly to his lap, where a patch of denim had grown dark. Wet.

Her mouth went dry. “Oh. You—”

“Yeah.” He cringed. “I did.”

“But I—I didn’t even touch you.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, avoiding her eyes. “Not my finest moment, I know. But seriously, Truly, give me thirty minutes and some Gatorade and I’ll make it up to—”

“Shut up, oh my God.”

Colin stared up at her, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “What?”

“Did you actually think I’d care?” That he’d wanted her that badly? That he’d gotten off on her taste and the sounds she’d made? In what universe was that not hot? “That’s the hottest thing I’ve heard in my entire life.”

He stared at her, disbelief giving way to relief even as his blush crept higher up his cheeks. “You’re serious.”

“You got off on making me feel good.” She stepped over the threshold into her apartment, letting the door swing open behind her. “I might not have Gatorade, but I think that at least earns you rights to a glass of water and the use of my washing machine.”

Colin stood, rising to his full height, cringing softly as he adjusted himself inside his jeans. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Twelve

“How the hell have you made it this long without getting scurvy?”

Truly crossed her arms. “Um, maybe because I’m not a pirate during the seventeenth century, Colin.”

“Scurvy still affects seven percent of the US population today, Truly,” he said, studying the contents of her refrigerator with a scowl.