Page 131 of Heart So Hollow

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.

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