Page 53 of Brim Over Boot
“We’ll see about that.”
Colton tries to tug away, but all he succeeds in doing is rubbing himself against me, the moan that follows surely not meant to be heard by my ears. “Fucking touch me already.”
I click my tongue. “Try again.”
He uses his shoulder to shove me backwards, but I tug him with me, spinning at the last second so he’s the one who ends up against the side of the building. He grunts, eyes flashing.
“Pinned again,” I tell him with a grin.
“Fucking. Touch me,” he repeats, fire and gravel in his voice. “Please.”
“Such a quick learner,” I praise, tugging his waistband away from his skin, the backs of my fingers skimming heated flesh. I pop the button open. “Are you gonna be good, or should I hold you down like last time?”
In answer, he growls and tries to hook my foot with his own, but I block the move and press him back into the wall.
My chuckle is hoarse. “You got it,” I tell him, slowly wrapping my hand around his throat, the curve a perfect match for my palm. Colton’s eyes slip shut, his hands shaking where he’s holding me. “You could just ask for it, y’know.”
“Fuck you,” he says, although it lacks any real venom.
I let out a sigh, slipping my other hand beneath his underwear to curl around his dick. “Like I said, maybe if you ask nicely. Now open my jeans.”
His eyes pop wide, surprise there. Curiosity, definitely. A little trepidation.
“Don’t make me ask again,” I say slowly, figuring the edge of demand will help him past his nerves.
It seems to do the trick. He grits his jaw, eyes on me as he fumbles for my waistband. He gets ahold of it, easing down the zipper as I rub my thumb over the head of his cock. His breath comes in short pants through his nose as I toy with him.
“Now pull me out, little Colt. Andbe nice.”
“Hate your hair,” he mumbles, sliding his dominant hand—the left—inside my pants.
“That so?” I ask, my stomach tightening as Colton’s fingers wrap around me. He maneuvers my dick out of my briefs, managing to look like a disgruntled cat every step of the way.
“And your fucking voice,” he adds. “Grating.”
I hum, grabbing Colton’s hand off my dick and bringing it up to his mouth. “Spit,” I tell him.
He looks affronted.
“It’s either a dry rub or spit, little Colt. Unless you brought lube with you?”
He shakes his head, eyes pinging down to his waiting palm. I loosen my grip on his neck just so and raise an eyebrow. Finally, Colton works his jaw and spits into his hand.
“There you go,” I say, wrapping his palm back around my dick. “Youcanlisten to direction.” I ignore his answering scowl and squeeze his hand, running his fist down and back up again. “Fuck.”
His expression turns to one of subtle smugness, as if he’s proud to have caused my composure to crack just a little. And while I like that look on Colton Darling a hell of a lot more than I thought I would, it’s not the surrender I’m aching for.
Letting his hand go, I pull his cock out from his underwear and step in close. Colton sucks in a breath when I swat his hand off my dick, replacing it with my own to wrap both of us in my grip. He tries to look down, but my hold on his neck doesn’t allow for it.
“Do you like that, little Colt? The feel of my dick on yours?”
He looks as if he wants to say no but can’t. I give us a couple jerks before flexing my hips, causing my cock to slide alongside his.
“Fuck,” Colton says on a gasp.
“Do you wanna see what it looks like?”
“Why’re you doing this?” he croaks out, his eyes going hazy as his dick starts to leak. I swipe my thumb through the precum.
