EIGHTEEN
Georgia followed Colby to his bedroom after they’d cleaned up the kitchen. Her legs still felt like they were made of pudding after her orgasm, but she managed not to stumble as she made her way down the hall. When she passed Keats’s room, she put her palm to the door for a brief second, offering a silent apology and promising herself that she would talk to him tomorrow. Maybe they needed some boundaries after all, because it seemed both of them were playing with fire without them.
But when she stepped into Colby’s bedroom, finding him standing there in front of his bed, big and broad and intimidating as hell, she forgot all thoughts of tomorrow. Because finally, right now, she’d arrived at the site of so many of her fantasies. She glanced at the window.
“No one to watch us tonight, gorgeous.”
“I don’t need an audience.” She closed the door behind her.
He smirked. “Though you like one sometimes.”
“Said the pot to the kettle.”
He sat down on the end of the bed, legs wide in that cowboy don’t-care way, and leaned back on his hands. He nodded at the spot in front of him. “Take off your dress and show me what number you decided on.”
Nerves hopped in her belly as she walked over to where he wanted. She’d left her shoes somewhere in the kitchen, so she had only one thing left to take off. She pulled the shoulders of her dress down, the stretchy fabric giving way easily, and slid the dress to her waist, exposing her chest to the cool air.
Colby’s hazel eyes homed in, appraising, appreciating. This was the first time he’d seen her bared like this, and somehow he made her feel completely comfortable. She pushed the dress down her hips and stepped out of the puddle of fabric.
Colby’s tongue darted out and touched his bottom lip, an unconscious gesture that made her go hot wondering what thought had crossed his mind. He cleared his throat. “Where’s the number?”
She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “I didn’t pick one.”
His brows lowered. “Why?”
“I appreciate what you were trying to do—giving me some shred of control to cling to. But that’s not what I want. I need this to be a little scary. I need my surrender to be real. I want to know I really did it.”
The flare of pleasure that flickered over his expression was a reward in and of itself. He shifted forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs and pinning her with his gaze. “No bunny slope for you, huh?”
She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. “My whole life is made of baby steps and bunny slopes right now. I need a leap. And I feel like I can do that with you.”
He reached out for her, and she stepped between his spread knees. He took her hands and looked up, something she couldn’t pinpoint burning in his gaze. “I’m honored that you’re giving me that trust. Really. It means more than you know. I promise I won’t misuse it.”
For some reason, she wanted to cry, but she pressed her lips together and fought back the urge. She would not fall apart. Not before this happened.
He stood and put his hand at her waist, pulling her against him. His lips met hers with a hushed reverence at first, like they were sealing some agreement, and then the kiss turned hotter and more urgent. She could feel the muscles that had tensed from nerves loosening again and melting. His tongue stroked against hers, and as she latched onto his shirt, she could feel his erection hardening against her belly.
He groaned into the kiss and pulled away.
The quick break-off of the kiss startled her. “Everything okay?”
He gave a little laugh, sounding chagrined, and rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “I’ve practiced this self-control thing a long damn time. But kissing you like that makes me feel like a teenager who just wants to get inside you. Right. This. Second. If I keep kissing you like that, I’ll end up pawing you like it’s prom night.”
She smiled and touched the band of his jeans. “I can help take the edge off. May I?”
She lowered to her knees.
“Aw, proper grammar and everything?” he said, cupping her head and rubbing a thumb over her bottom lip. “How can I resist such a polite request to suck my cock?”
Even the words had excitement pinging through her. She’d never been one to get overly enthusiastic about blow jobs, but something about Colby had had her craving that from the very start. She’d watched him get off that way from her perch at her window and had always loved how he looked when he gave himself over to the pleasure.
He reached for his belt and unfastened it, then pulled it out of the loops. “Give me your wrists.”
She lifted her arms to him, and he wrapped the belt around them with surprisingly efficient motions. When he was sure it was secure, he let her lower her bound hands to her lap.
He undid his fly and tucked his hand inside. When he freed his cock, putting it on proud display right in her line of sight, her mouth actually watered.
“Only your mouth,” he said gruffly. “And I control the pace.”
There was something about him being fully dressed, her naked and bound at his feet that made this feel so much different than anything she’d done before. She had this deep urge to please him.
He wrapped his hand in her hair, firmly enough to make her scalp tingle but not enough to hurt, and guided her forward. The first taste of salty skin against her tongue made hot things curl inside her, as did the grunting sound he made at the contact. Her hands twisted in the bindings and she closed her eyes, savoring the flavor and feel of this sinful, sexy man.
He was big, and she wasn’t skilled enough to take him all, but he didn’t force her to accept more than she could handle. He kept his free hand around the base and stroked toward her with each thrust, his fingers meeting her lips in an erotic kiss. She rolled her tongue around him, sucking and teasing and mapping the feel of him.
His fingers tightened against her head. “God, baby, your mouth is going to kill me. You give head like you kiss—with everything you’ve got.”
She mmmed at the praise and doubled her efforts, wanting to know what he was like when he completely lost it. But Colby had other ideas because after a few minutes, he gently eased her away. She blinked up at him, surprised, but he grasped her chin and bent down to kiss her. “Not like this. I want you in my bed beneath me. And I want to see you wearing my rope.”
“Rope?”
He released her bindings and helped her to her feet. “Door number three. One of my favorites, gives me a lot of pleasure, but it takes some patience.”
She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve got all night.”
“Says the girl who just had a screaming orgasm in the kitchen.”
She grinned and let her eyes travel down to his very hard, very obvious erection. “You going to be okay?”
“Keep grinning, smartass,” he teased. “You’ll learn how dangerous it is to goad your dom.”
He left for a few minutes to gather his supplies, and when he came back, she learned the threat hadn’t been an idle one. He made her kneel on the bed, thighs spread, and strapped a small vibrator against her clit to keep her occupied while he worked. He dialed it to the setting that had to be called Slow Ride to Hell because it was low and slow and made her want to die with need after about ten minutes.
Meanwhile, he was wrapping soft ropes around her torso in an intricate looping pattern. He had a wrinkle in his forehead while he worked and a look in his eye that told her this was a meditative act for him. But his erection didn’t flag the entire time—so not just meditative but deeply sexual. And she could understand why. The pressure of the ropes against her body and the way they gently abraded her skin had her seeing the eroticism in it.
With that new sensual experience and the torturous pace of the vibrator she was near out of her mind by the time he cinched the last knot. It was like her body had completely forgotten about the previous orgasm. Like it no longer counted. She needed his touch.
Colby pulled the vibrator away and stepped back to admire his work, giving her a look that almost sent her over the edge. Pure, unabashed lust. “You look amazing, Georgia. I can’t even describe it.” He opened a nearby closet door and angled the mirror inside the door her way. “Look at yourself.”
The reflection stunned her for a second. She could barely comprehend that it was her image looking back at her. Colby had wound the rope into a corset, tightly coiled around her torso and two rings of rope above her breasts, leaving everything else on naked display. Her hips flared in a pleasing heart shape out from under the bottom circle of rope, and her breasts stood proud in the space between the ropes. It was utterly obscene. She loved it.
She touched the ropes over her belly, the intricate looping he’d done to get everything snug but not painful. “This is an art, Colby.”
“You’re the art,” he said, moving to the side of the bed again and palming one of her breasts. “You’re lucky I’m having a lapse in self-control tonight because the sadistic side of me kind of wants to lie back and watch you get to the brink with that vibrator over and over until you’re sweating and begging for me. I could look at you all night.”
He pinched her nipple between his fingertips and she gasped. “I’m already sweating and if you want me to beg, I left my pride somewhere in the kitchen, so not a problem.”
His dimple appeared beneath the shadow of his beard. “I’m not looking to steal your pride, beautiful. Just a little bit of your sanity for a few minutes.”
“Ha. That’s already gone, so if you find it, let me know.”
“Hush,” he said, giving her a quick kiss and reaching between her thighs to stroke her for a few maddening seconds. “Stay on your knees and get to the middle of the bed. I’m not quite done with the rope.”
All snappy comebacks faded from her thoughts as his fingers brought her right to the precipice of orgasm again before he pulled back. She wanted to grab his wrist and force his hand to stay there, but he was already out of her reach. She crawled to the middle of the bed and settled into position, her heartbeat officially relocating to the spot right behind her clit—throbbing, throbbing, throbbing.
Colby took his time wrapping her forearms in rope, leaving her with what looked like the western version of superhero cuffs, and then he drew her down onto her elbows and took the long ends of the rope to secure her to the headboard. She tugged on the restraints and they didn’t give. A little flutter of panic went through her.
“Anything feel too tight?” he asked, checking the bindings at her wrist.
“What if I need to get out quickly? Like if it’s an emergency?”
All of a sudden she was picturing the house catching on fire or the intense need to pee or a spider crawling onto the bed. It was all ridiculous but something about being tied to the bed had pushed her fear button.
“I’ve got you,” he said, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. “There’s a switchblade in the bedside drawer that will slice right through this rope. You say the word and you’re out in less than thirty seconds.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Hey, look at me,” he said, cupping her chin and tilting her face toward him. His eyes met hers with unwavering sincerity. “Your safety is always going to be my number one priority. Always. No matter what, I’m looking out for you.”
The words were spoken with utter confidence, and that confidence washed over her, filling the spaces where the fear was trying to dig roots. “Thank you.”
She breathed out the rest of the nerves that had tried to crop up and closed her eyes as he moved behind her. She could hear clothes coming off, and she couldn’t resist. She peeked back over her shoulder. Colby had just kicked off his jeans, and he stood there in his full naked glory. Broad and built and big all over. He looked like a beast. Or sculpture. Or every fantasy she’d ever conjured. It almost wasn’t fair.
He smiled when he caught her gawking. “I feel the same way when I look at you, Georgia. All that pretty flesh, those gorgeous curves. I want to put you on the dinner table and eat you bite by bite.”
Yep. That was exactly how she felt. He was fucking edible.
“In fact,” he said, climbing onto the bed behind her, “I don’t think I can resist a taste right now.”
He palmed her ass and angled her hips up, putting a sway in her back and exposing every private part of her for his perusal. She could feel his breath caressing her, his mouth getting closer, and then his hot tongue was on her and she lost what little calm she had left.
Colby was as talented with his mouth as he was with his hands, and soon she was yanking back on the ropes, having a hard time keeping still. He knew exactly how to keep her riding the edge, on the verge of orgasm but not reaching it. She whimpered into the sheets and banged her forehead into the mattress. Please, please, please.
“God, you taste good,” he said, in between driving her out of her mind and making her want to harm him. “And you’re so hot against my tongue. I can feel how close you are.”
“Please, Colby,” she finally said. “I can’t take this much longer. I’m really begging this time. Please.”
“Mmm,” he said against her. “You know that just makes me want to tease you more.”
“Colby . . .” Now she was whining, which she knew was a ridiculous thing for a grown woman to do, but she couldn’t help herself.
A soft chuckle sent a puff of breath against her. “All right. Lucky for you I’m losing my patience, too.”
He shifted behind her and wrapped firm fingers around her hips, getting into position behind her. But it took longer than she could stand because he had to get a condom on first. She swayed restlessly, trying not to beg again. Everything felt oversensitive, desperate. The ropes had their own way of caressing her, reminding her of every inch of skin that was covered, and the exposed parts felt every change in the air.
But when he finally pressed the head of his cock against her entrance and thrust forward, everything in her converged to one aching, needy point. Her body still wasn’t used to his size and fought to accommodate him, but the pressure of him stretching and filling her sent her senses sailing. She pressed her face in the sheets, surrendering to him fully and without reservation.
He didn’t rush, even though she would’ve been perfectly fine with that, but he wasn’t purposely torturing her anymore. He was enjoying himself, sinking in deep and taking her with full, savoring glides. This part was about him, based on the gruff, pleased sounds he was making, and she was along for the ride. The hair-curling, sexy-as-hell ride.
“You look so fucking hot bound in my rope and spread around my cock,” Colby said, his twang getting heavier the closer to release he got. He ran a finger over her back entrance as he pumped into her harder. The touch was like a bolt of lightning straight through her. “I’m going to take you here one day, too. I want every part of you, Georgia. I want to find out every button that makes you moan like that.”
The words, his cock pumping into her, and him touching her there were too much. A powerful wave was building inside her, ready to take her down.
“Let go, baby,” he said, reaching around with his other hand and finding her clit. “Come for me.”
She would’ve even if he hadn’t said it was okay. It was too much to hold back. She cried out as everything in her burst through like sunshine piercing a thousand tiny windows. Her neck arched and she shrieked with the rush of it all, the sheer pleasure. Colby let out a shout behind her, thrusting deep and flattening her to the bed as he found his own release.
She melted into the sheets, floating in a haze, her body still contracting with aftershocks, and closed her eyes.
It was so much better on this side of the window.
Too bad she wouldn’t be able to stay.