Page 58 of The County Line
“Colt…” I sigh.
His tongue moves again in the same pattern, one strong, slow lick across my slit ending with my clit while his fingers massage on either side of my swollen lips. He presses his thumbs inside my opening while his mouth seals over my clit in a tight hold, flicking and pumping in tandem. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.
He’s ravenous, the sounds he makes—low, guttural, and hungry—mingle with the breathy moans spilling from my lips. Each noise from me only makes him work harder as he grunts and groans between my legs.
My gaze falls to where he’s devouring me, drawn to the way his broad shoulders pin me to the bed. I couldn’t get away if I wanted to and I don’t. My breath catches as I notice the thick bulge straining against the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants.
“I want you so badly, Colt,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need, every word thick with longing.
He pauses, his movements stilling as he lifts his head. His hazel eyes burn into mine, dark and unrelenting, before he tilts his face between my thighs. The rough rasp of his beard grazes the sensitive skin on my thighs, sending shivers coursing through me as he drags the sharp hairs up and down my thighs and over my clit.
I gasp, gripping the sheets as the friction ignites a new wave of heat, sharp and all-consuming. He doesn’t stop—his nose brushes against my clit, pressing there with pointed, focused attention. He rubs it gently, the warmth of his rapid breath against my skin making my thighs tremble.
“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, the vibrations sparking through every nerve ending. “Your pussy feels like it belongs to me already.”
My heart ricochets in my chest so loud I can hardly hear my thoughts anymore.He wants me just as badly as I want him.
“Fuck me, please,” I groan, begging again as his tongue dives back inside of my opening while his fingers brush my clit.
“No.”
“Why not?” I’m whining now but I want him. I want him so badly it hurts. I want to hold the weight of his cock in my hands. Feel just how heavy it is while full because of me. I want to suck him off. I want him inside of me, devastating me. I want him to fill me in every way.
I don’t care if it’s wrong that I want him in this way anymore or what it means for my ethics. I just wanthim.
“Because” he starts, his tongue flicks against my clit before he bites softly on the inside of my thigh, marking me. I let out a hiss and his eyes find mine again. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Disappoint me?
How is that even possible.
He reaches into his sweatpants and pulls his thick width over the top of the band so that I can see it. It looks even better up close. The tip of him is like a too ripe peach, one that’s so juicy, just the touch of it releases some of the sweet goodness all over your hands. And that’s what it’s doing, leaking over the band of his sweatpants, out and onto my stomach.
Then, he does what he did when I’d walked in on him a week ago, he jerks it viciously in his grip over top of me, while his fingers remain inside of my soaked pussy, pumping firmly in the same rhythm.
“Watch me, baby. Watch what you do for me,” he growls.
We watch ourselves like that, his fingers inside of me pumping, his other hand wrapped around the width of his cock, bunching the smooth, dark, velvety skin up around the tip, leaking precum out of it down onto my stomach. It’s the most erotic thing that I’ve ever witnessed, and I can’t look away.
“How could you ever disappoint me, Colt?” I ask, rolling my hips upward, trying to grind myself on his bare cock.
He jerks himself harder, I can see his large balls between his thighs swinging low, the hair on them brushing against my thighs only adding to the wild sensations I’m feeling.
“Play with your clit, Molly,” he commands, avoiding my question. I try to hide any disappointment I’m feeling over why he won’t have sex with me, and do as instructed, swirling the hardened nub with my fingers while he continues to pump his fingers inside of my opening. It’s almost too much—his hand working over himself while I touch myself, his intensity mirroring mine.
“Fuck, you look so pretty laying underneath me.”
And then he slides a third finger inside me unexpectedly and it pushes me over the edge. My body shakes, my toes curl into the sheets as I scream his name. His lips cover mine, stealing my cries along with the storm. The orgasm rips through me, sharp and shocking, leaving me gasping and clawing into his chest covered in tattoos as wave after wave crashes over me.
Above me, Colt’s neck goes tight, veins straining as a guttural groan rips from his throat. His entire body bows forward, muscles locking as he loses control, his cock jerking in his grip. He leans down, angling just enough to spill hot streaks across my stomach and the hem of my T-shirt. His hand strokes through it one last time until he stills, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
Without a word, he moves—slow and deliberate. He lifts me gently, guiding me upright, and strips the ruined T-shirt from my body. Then he uses it to clean my skin with a tenderness that makes my chest ache, like I’m something breakable. The contrast to the raw, desperate need we’d just shared makes me blink up at him, stunned into silence. When he’s done, he tosses the shirt aside and pulls me into his arms, completely nakednow, tugging me against his chest like he’s done it a thousand times.
I rest my cheek against the solid wall of his body, the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear grounding me in a way nothing else ever has. But inside, I’m spiraling. My thoughts are messy and loud, crashing over each other, impossible to pin down. Because no matter what rules he tries to hold onto, no matter how many lines we pretend we haven’t crossed—I already know the truth.
I’ve fallen for him.
And we won’t talk about what just happened. Colt will bury it, pretend it didn’t mean anything. But I know better. I know him. And as his hand slips around to the small of my back, holding me tighter to his still stiff cock, like letting go of me would hurt him—I let myself believe, just for a second, that maybe he’s falling too.
