“I know the police. They’re my friends,” Allan said smugly.
“They used to be my friends, too,” she pointed out, moving toward Colt. “And they know you won’t leave me alone. If you file one charge against him, it’s going to be your word against both of ours.”
Allan glared. He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing blood. “We’ll discuss this some other time.”
“No we won’t,” she said, but the door had slammed shut.
Colt followed him to the door, and for a moment, she thought he was going to chase Allan down the hallway and beat him some more. Her heart thundered in her chest. But Colt only turned the light back off, locked the door, and returned to her.
“You okay?” she breathed.
He leaned down and kissed her, hard. His teeth ground against her own and she tasted his blood in her mouth. His tongue thrust once, twice, and then he was pressing hard kisses down her neck and throat. “Colt?”
He growled against her skin. “I f**king hate that dirtbag.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He turned back to her and his hands went to her cheeks. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” he said in a hard voice. “Just tell me you’re never going to go back to him again.”
“I’m not—”
“And tell me that you’re mine.” His eyes glittered in the moonlight, and she felt him press his erection against her.
“I’m yours,” she said softly. The fight had brought out his protective streak. “All yours.”
He tugged at the straps of her dress, pulling them from her hands to let them fall back around her waist once more, exposing her br**sts. His fingers moved to the nipple, pinched it. He watched her face.
Her breath inhaled sharply. “Do you—should we…”
“Turn around, darlin’,” he said softly.
A dangerous, erotic thrill shot through her. She moved slowly, turning until her back was to him. He moved forward, his hand skimming along her back, and she arched against those wonderful, callused fingers. She loved his touch.
“Bend over the desk,” he rasped, and his hand went to her neck. He didn’t exert pressure—it was just there to remind her of what he wanted. And she bent over the desk, gasping when the cold wood surface hit her fevered ni**les. Her belly clenched as it hit the wood, and she shuddered in anticipation.
“Do you want me, Beth Ann?” Colt’s voice was low, possessive. “Right here? Right now? Say no, and I can just walk away right now.”
Say no, and I can just walk away right now. For some reason, she suspected that had a lot more meaning than to just right now. As in, forever. But she was in this too deep—and currently too turned on—to even think about leaving. “I’m staying.”
“Because no one would expect you to f**k me after we’d been found out?”
“Because I want you,” she said softly. “Only you.”
His hands pushed up her cherry skirt—no panties. She spread her legs, steadying herself. Her hands clamped onto the front of the desk and she waited, her body rigid with anticipation. The crinkle of the condom wrapper alerted her, but she still wasn’t prepared for the feel of him when he surged into her. She sucked in a breath. She’d been wet, but not as soaked as she normally was when he finally thrust into her. There was a bit of sting, and tightness to her, and she wiggled, trying to adjust.
His hands gripped her hips and he rocked deep, groaning with need. “Beth Ann.”
“I’m here,” she said softly.
He thrust again, and this time it didn’t hurt. Pleasure began to strum through her—his c**k was so thick that it rubbed against all of her when he stroked in, and rubbed even more when he moved out. It was an exquisite sensation—she felt filled with lust when he stroked between her legs. It was like her entire core was one big g-spot. Amazing, that. He began to thrust hard, fast, his hand stealing to her shoulder to anchor her down. This was not a soft, tender exploration of bodies. This was hard, possessive sex. He was claiming her as his, branding her, making his mark on her.
And she loved it.
Soft little cries began to break from her with every hard, punishing thrust. The desk slammed back and forth with every motion as he rocked into her. His balls slapped against her with every thrust, and his thighs smacked against her own every time. This was the hardest they’d ever f**ked, and instead of scaring her, she reveled in it. She wanted him to thrust deeper, harder. Lose all control. Her fingers dug against the side of the desk. She reached up, pulled his face down to her own, and whispered, “Fuck me harder, Colt.”
He groaned, an animal noise, and his body slammed into her. Once, twice, and then he bit out her name, and his entire body clenched. She felt him spasm deep inside her, and she panted, motionless. He’d come before her. That hadn’t happened before, but she understood it. He’d needed her—needed this so bad. He rocked into her one more time, as if reluctant to leave her body, and then exhaled sharply. “Turn over.”
She sat up, turned around, flushed, and leaned in to kiss him.
He stopped her. “Back on the desk.”
“But—”
He grabbed her by the hips and hauled her back up. “On your elbows.”
She did, though she was in danger of falling off the desk. Again, he pushed up her skirts, and to her shock, he buried his face in her pu**y. “Colt,” she gasped. “But—”
“Want to hear you come, darlin’,” he murmured against her flesh, and the vibrations of his low, husky voice sent shockwaves skittering through her. She moaned, and when his tongue began to lap at her, her hips quivered in response.
A finger sank deep inside her—not nearly as exciting as his cock—and was joined by two others. He f**ked her with his fingers, even as he bent to her clit and began to lick it with slow, measured strokes.
“Oh mercy,” she moaned, forgetting all about being quiet. “Oh, Colt, yes, please…”
“You taste sweet, Beth Ann,” he said, and she moaned anew, wishing her skirts weren’t blocking her view. His fingers continued to thrust into her, even as his tongue worked her clit over. Her hips began to undulate with need, and her cries ripped through the air as she came with a wet rush, the orgasm ripping through her with intensity.