Page 26 of Ensnared
The entire room exuded a sense of power and authority, a place where decisions were made, and control was absolute. Yet, there was an underlying comfort here too, a subtle nod to the man who inhabited this space—a man who valued both strength and the finer things in life.
He stepped closer, the soft silk of his pants brushing against his skin, drawing my attention again to the way they hung on his hips. Colson cupped my face, drawing circles on my jaw with his thumb.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Josephine.”
I blushed and wanted to look away from his gaze, but his eyes were hypnotic, holding me in place.
“I’d like to touch you,” he whispered.
“You are,” I squeaked.
“In more intimate places.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I could only nod in response. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension, a current that I couldn’t quite name but felt in every fiber of my being.
I closed my eyes. “You said you would wait.”
“I said I would wait to fuck you. I’d like to give you pleasure now.”
His hand slid up my thigh and under my dress. I was too shocked to say anything as his cool fingers cupped me between my legs and he groaned.
“We’ll have to do something about this,” he said, giving my pubic hair a gentle tug.
I kept it trimmed and neat, but I expected a man like him would want it bare and clean.
“I can have someone come here and take care of this tomorrow after your lesson.”
Colson gently stroked between my legs over my lace panties until he worked his way under the panel. I jumped when he slid a finger through my slit and when he pressed my now swollen nub, I gasped. His mouth sealed over mine, swallowing my moans.
I gripped his shoulders, closing my eyes. I’d gotten myself off many times in the privacy of my room, but he was the first man to touch me there. I was falling into a trance because of this man. I disliked Colson Ashworth, but he was making it very hard to maintain that attitude.
Colson pulled away from my lips, his breath hot against my collarbone as he trailed kisses up the length of my neck, each touch making my pulse race. When he reached my ear, his voice was a low murmur, sending shivers down my spine.
"Come, sweet Josephine," he coaxed, his breath warm against my skin. "Show me how good I make you feel."
I couldn’t hold back, my head falling back as my body surged with need. "Yes, yes," I gasped, my breath coming in short, desperate pants. My fingers dug into his skin, clinging to him as if he were my lifeline. Every touch, every press of his fingers against my clit, brought me closer to the edge. I was teetering, ready to fall.
“Let go,” he whispered, his teeth grazing my earlobe just before he bit down gently, the sharp sensation pushing me over the precipice.
My world exploded. I shattered into a thousand pieces, my body convulsing in his arms as the orgasm tore through me, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure. Colson held me tight, grounding me, his strength the only thing keeping me from floating away. When the tremors finally subsided, I pressed myself against him, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal.
But he didn’t ask for anything in return. Instead, he placed a soft, lingering kiss on my lips, as if savoring the moment.
"I want you with me every night until we marry," he said, his voice a mixture of command and promise. "I like playing with you, Josephine Shaw. It will be so much sweeter when I can call you my wife."
His words wrapped around me, possessive and seductive, leaving me breathless. But then, his tone shifted, firm and undeniable.
"Now go to bed," he ordered, leaving no room for argument.
I nodded, still dazed, and turned to leave, my legs shaky as I walked away. As I reached the door, I glanced back, catching the gleam in his eyes—hungry, yet restrained. It was clear that Colson Ashworth was a man who took what he wanted, but he would wait until the moment was right, savoring every second of the chase.
And I wasn’t sure whether that terrified me or thrilled me.
I was awakened a 2:15 a.m. by moaning. I froze, listening, hearing words spoken. They were distressed, strained and I realized it was Easton in the throes of a nightmare, the ones I didn’t know he had. I expected he would quiet down, but he didn’t, and I felt compelled to go to him.
When I opened his door, his body was full of tension, contorted in whatever nightmare gripped him. His hands clenched the covers so tight that his knuckles were white. A sheen of sweat covered his face, and I called out softly to him. He didn’t wake and I shook him.
His eyes popped opened and he cried out at my presence. “Joey.”
