Page 24 of Sunshine & Sinful

“Wh—what are you doing?” I croak.

“Tell me to stop,” he begs through gritted teeth.

“Colton.”

“Tell. Me. To. Stop.”

“But what if I don’t want to?”

“Kali. Please. I’ve already taken this too fuckin’ far.”

“You can move if you want to move. Nothing’s stopping you.”

“Sweets. I… Fuck…” He drops his forehead between my shoulders and takes a heavy breath. “I’m?—”

A fist pounds on the bedroom door, rocking it on its hinges. “Food’s ready whenever you assholes are done playin’ hide the sausage and ready to… ya know, talk and shit.”

Shoving my face into the mattress, I grunt into the cotton. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Sunshine drops a sweet kiss on my shoulder and sits back on my legs. His still-hard dick brushes the underside of my butt cheeks as he proceeds to use them as bongos. Apparently, we’re starting a band as he hums a tune to some rock song.

“Colton!” I giggle, trying to twist my ass away from his playful slaps.

The bastard doesn’t relent when he squeezes his legs around mine and switches to a rendition of “Witchy Woman,” which isn’t half bad with his sensual voice laced with humor.

“Colton.” My tone grows more serious as I grip the top of the mattress and try to pull myself away but fail miserably when the man in question gets to the chorus, and my bottom starts to warm in a different way, radiating into my core. If I wasn’t already semi-turned on before, I’m damn well panting now. Each slap turns up my arousal a notch at a time, and when he gets to the beat toward the end, when the words drop out, and the percussion picks up, I gasp out in pleasure, my pussy clenching on the brink of an orgasm.

“Colton,” I beg, voice wrecked as I grip the bed sheet in my fists. “Colton.”

Chuckling at his showmanship, as if I’m not a needy live wire, ready to detonate at any moment, the oblivious man covers my back again and playfully pecks my shoulder. His cock slides in where it was before, but this time, there’s lubricant to guide the way. When the firm heat of his pecs connects with my back, Sunshine’s arousal meets with mine, and my center welcomes him home in one glorious slide.

To. The. Hilt.

I gasp at the intrusion. Every muscle locks down. Neither of us moves an inch as our world as we know it comes to a screeching halt. I don’t breathe. He doesn’t breathe. I can feel his thickness inside me, filling me in more ways than one, ways I don’t wish to decipher right now.

It pulses there.

Blood rushes through my ears as my heart punches my sternum.

One beat passes, then the next, and the next. Neither of us speaks. Neither of us moves.

My eyes widen when his cock flexes and breaks the spell.

“Fuck!” Sunshine scrambles off me as if I’m diseased, taking his attached appendage with him. He tumbles to the floor in a mess of limbs, and the bedside lamp rattles as he rights himself before looking at me with what could only be described as shame. Quickly looking away, he doesn’t say a thing when he races into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

Flipping onto my back, I drag a hand down my face and kick the bed in frustration like a kid having a temper tantrum. That fucking happened. It did. He just slipped in. Spanked my ass to a song I love, and… there it went, inside. Does that mean we had sex? No. Right? Shit. I don’t even know.

Shaking my head, I climb out of bed. Well, I sit on the edge and shake my head a dozen more times before I blow out a breath and slap my knees to prepare for the talk we agreed to have today. I suppose we should also discuss what happened. We’ve toed a flirty line for years but never crossed it. In the last twenty-four hours, many lines have been crossed—more than I know what to do with.

When Sunshine finally exits the bathroom, he’s freshly showered, dripping water down his hair-matted chest, a towel tucked around his waist. I wait for him to do or say something, but nothing comes. Not when he kneels by my dresser and pulls out a fresh pair of boxers, a t-shirt, and jeans. Not when he bends over, giving me a spectacular view of his ass as he slides on his bottoms. It isn’t until he’s fully clothed and I’m not that he turns around to face me. Once again, there’s a grimace cloaking his face, and I don’t like it one bit.

“I’m sorry,” he says, like that solves everything.

It doesn’t.

I open my mouth to speak, but he continues, “Sweets, let’s talk in the living room. Come join us whenever you’re ready. Yeah?”

Not knowing how to respond, I nod and wrap my arms around my middle to shield myself from this weirdness that floats between us.

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