Page 38 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“Um.” I bite my lip, swallowing down my nerves.

“Come on Samantha. Let me hear that filthy word on your sweet lips.” Colt’s eyes flash with heat. I think he’s flirting with me, but not as a defense. A challenge.

“Cock,” I whisper.

“That’s it.” He gives me a satisfied grin. “Now give it a good squeeze and pull. See how firm it really is.”

Colt holds his arms behind his back as I squeeze then pull.

“Again,” he rasps. This time he pulls back slightly when I do, rocking his hips forward to meet my hand when it travels to the base. “Damn,” he groans.

“Why are your hands behind your back?” I ask.

“So, I don’t use ‘em.” He closes his eyes and holds his breath as I pull on him again. I like the feel of his heavy length sliding through my fist. I especially like how it makes him grit his teeth or hold his breath or even moan.

“What’s wrong with using them?”

“I’ve given that virgin pussy enough attention for one night. As long as I don’t touch you, I won’t be tempted to move too fast.” His chest heaves as he talks, showing off all the coiled muscles in his torso, and making it difficult to keep my eyes on the…cock, in my hand.

“But, you said I could watch you finish. Don’t you have to use your hands for that?” I let go and resume tracing him with my finger, which gives me a better view of all of him.

“Your hands are doing just fine,” he grunts.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing.” I feel myself flush.

“Still feels good.” He rocks his hips forward to meet my finger.

“Good enough to…you know?” I look at his face to see if that will give me any clues, and find his eyes focused on me, where I’m exposed, a dreamy look on his face, like he’s remembering what he just did. Or wanting to do it again.

“To come? Might need a little more for that.” His voice is deep. Strained, making me think he’s in that place where he’s torn between wanting his bliss to linger or keep building.

“More?” My voice is strained too, but not with desire. I’m eager to experience sex, but I’m nervous about it, and I’m not sure I want to have it here in the kitchen. Plus, he said he wasn’t going to touch me any more tonight.

“That’s not what I mean, Beautiful.” Colt seems to read my mind. “We’ll work up to that. For tonight more is harder. Faster.” He wraps my hand around his shaft, covering it with his own. Under his direction I grip him tighter than I thought would be comfortable, and he moves my hand over his length at a rapid pace.

“God, just like that.” He groans, letting his hand fall away so he has a clear view of himself sliding between my fist.

It’s tiring to keep this pace, but the pleasure on his face drives me forward, gripping and stroking as firm and fast as my arm will allow.

“I like the way my cock looks in your hand, Sam, pointed right at that sweet pussy.” I’m not sure if the words are for his benefit or mine, but they send a flood of desire between my legs. That makes me briefly embarrassed, because I never considered myself to be the type of woman who would tolerate much less appreciate dirty talk, but apparently my body likes it. It spurs me forward, anxious to give him the release he just gave me.

The cock I thought was hard before goes even more rigid in my hand, causing Colt to groan. “That’s it, honey, just like that.” He rocks his hips in rhythm with my hand. “Sweet Jesus, come here. I need to feel your lips on mine when I come.”

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me forward, pressing our lips together. His tongue slides in once, twice, before he stills, his lips hovering over mine as a strangled moan erupts from his throat. His penis bobs steadily in my hand, becoming wet and slippery. “Don’t stop,” he grunts against my mouth. “Pull out every last drop.”

I squeeze and pull until he takes a final, shuddering breath, placing an almost chaste kiss on my lips before he releases his hold on my neck. I look at my hand, still wrapped around his length, the milky white evidence of his release covering both of us.

He pulls away, sliding free of my grip to wet a dishtowel. “I’ll get us cleaned up.”

I watch, fascinated, as he rubs it over himself, then turns to me and presses it between my legs. I flinch at the contact.

“Too cold? I’m sorry,” he says softly, rubbing the cloth over my sensitive skin. When he’s done he tosses the towel on the counter and pulls me to him for a tender hug, heedless of the fact that we’re still fully exposed. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispers against my hair.

I can tell by his stiffness that he’s worried about me, about whether this was too much too soon, and whether he’s scared me off. It’s sweet, but it makes me feel like I’m breakable, and I don’t like it.

“I’m not freaking out, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say defensively.

He pulls back and cups my face in his hands, studying me. “Of course, that’s what I’m asking. You seemed worried that I’d expect sex, and in the heat of the moment I didn’t stop to think that even touching might be too much.”

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