Page 52 of Brim Over Boot
I tighten my grip in his hair and slide my other hand down to grab his crotch none too gently. He stills, breath puffing out.Much better. I reclaim his mouth, not caring to dissect why his submission feels like far more than victory. It doesn’t matter. This won’t ever be anything more than exactly what it is now.
Blowing off steam. A chance, even, to have this man under my thumb.
I break from Colton’s lips as I rub his crotch, the hitch of his breath more visible than audible. “Do you want to give everyone here a show?” I ask, sliding my thumb along the length of his cock, tightly confined by his jeans. “Or will you be good and come with me out back?”
“Fuck,” Colton mouths, refusing to meet my eye, his gaze pinging from my lips down to my chest. I can see him trying to reconstruct his walls, and that won’t do.
“Let me rephrase that,” I say at a rumble, bringing my lips close to his ear. “Come out back with me. Because I’m dying to make you keen, little Colt, and I won’t do it with an audience.”
“Why?” he huffs out, his hips rolling against my hand, even as his voice sounds harsh. “Are you embarrassed?”
I pull my head back and raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like a man embarrassed to have a dick in his hand?”
“It’s not in your hand yet,” he shoots back, the contrary fuck.
“And whose fault is that?”
He doesn’t seem to have a response. His eyes flit around, as if he’s just now remembering where we are. Not that anyone is paying us much mind. We’re certainly not the only ones copping a feel inside the darkly lit club.
“Colton,” I nearly growl. His gaze snaps back to me.Finally. “Do I needa throw you over my shoulder? Would that make this easier?”
Easier for him to accept. To let himself have what he so clearly wants.
He doesn’t answer, his wide eyes and uptick in breath the only giveaway to how he’s feeling. I wait him out. Five seconds. Ten.
“Last chance to walk,” I tell him, letting my hands drop, giving him an easy exit.
His grip tightens on my shirt, but he doesn’t make a single move to go. Not one.
“All right,” I mutter, grabbing Colton’s arm and bending down. I maneuver him over my shoulder, much to his verbal shock.
“The fuck,” he croaks. “Noah. What the ever-lovingfuck?”
“I warned you,” I answer, weaving through the dense crowd at the edge of the room, folks stepping aside easily with amused eyes as I haul Colton toward the back hall. A couple hoots are thrown our way. One suggestiveget it.
There are a smattering of people in the hallway. Some hidden away in dark corners doing who knows what. Several waiting on the bathrooms. I find the back door, breathing a sigh of relief to see it propped open already. Won’t be setting off any fire alarms.
Colton stops his squirming as I shove the door open with my hip, walking him through. The heavy metal clunks behind us as it hits the brick blocking it from shutting. We’re only a few steps outside when Colton makes his desire to be put down known.
The second his feet hit the ground, he’s coming at me, hair ruffled and cheeks red.
“You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” he barks, pushing against my chest.
I let him shove me backwards, around the edge of the building where it’s darker, the din of the club quieting the further away we get.
“You’re such a goddamnasshole,” he persists, eyes darkly blue out here, the flush on his cheeks getting harder to make out. He shoves me again and again, his brow furrowing when I start to smile. “You think this is funny? It’s not funny, Noah. None of this is fuckingfunny. It’s messed up is what it is. You and me? In what fucking world does that make any goddamn sense?”
“It doesn’t,” I agree.
“Then what the fuck are you smiling about?” he asks, nearly frantic. “What are wedoing, King?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly, grabbing his arm when he tries to shove me again and pulling him close. His breath stutters out, his chest colliding into mine as I grip his ass to hold him steady. I use the purchase to grind him against me, my hold rough, and Colton’s eyes shutter. “Feels fucking good, though, doesn’t it?”
“God fuckingdamnit,” he hisses, head dropping forward, his hair brushing the side of my face. His hold on my arm is tight, as if he doesn’t know whether to pull me closer or push me away.
“You tell me to stop, and I will,” I make sure he knows,needinghim to know. “But you wanna fight this a little? I’m all for it, Colt. I have no problem making you mine.”
“I’m not yours,” he grits out. “Will never be yours.”
