over the edge, I’ll be lost to her.
“Oh, God…Colton. I can’t…”
Her pleading breaks through my thoughts, and I pull away only long enough to find her eyes. Pushing my fingers hard against her swollen mound, I say, “Don’t think. Don’t fight. Just close your eyes and fuck my mouth.” Then I drop my head back between her thighs and nip her clit before my mouth surrounds her.
Hips bucking, she releases a strangled cry that pulses through me. I press deeper into her, my tongue caressing her clit as my other hand pumps my cock. And when she tenses—all sound muted until that single second when she shatters around me—I break free. I unleash a harsh groan as I spill my come to the floor, cock pulsing against her sweet wetness that still coats my hand, and we release together.
I stay where I am, just touching her, head resting against her pelvis, as I savor the aftershocks rolling off her to me. Her pants slow, and I look up into her face.
Her skin glows with a beautiful sheen of sweat. Features twisted, she looks pained, but I know that’s not true. I won’t let her feel guilty. That was our deal; no regret.
Standing slowly, I rise before her, still holding myself. Her gaze travels down.
“I’m still hard for you,” I say, running my palm along my shaft. “That’s what you do to me.”
I watch the slender column of her neck bob on a hard swallow. She clears her throat and says, “Can I taste you?”
And those words…coming from that mouth…send me right over the fucking edge. I grip the head of my cock and squeeze, biting out a curse as I throb from the inside out. I imagine grabbing my pocketknife and slitting her dress down the middle. Tearing it from her body. Strapping her to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner and hearing the sounds I know she’s capable of making—
But I push that craving down into my gut. Shut it off. She’s not there yet. And she may never be. Whoever gave her that scar on her collarbone stole something sacred from her.
It’s going to take more than a hot face-fuck to crumble her walls. And I may be greedy, I may be a glutton, but I’m still patient.
I want it all.
Exercising that patience now, I step closer to her as I swipe the tip of my finger over the head of my cock. Then bracing one hand beside her on the bench, I lower myself, bringing my finger close to her mouth.
Her eyes drag over my face, flicking down to my slick finger. She parts her lips, and I rub the pad over her bottom lip. Her tongue snakes out to taste me, and a sharp hiss slips past my gritted teeth.
She sucks my finger into her mouth, sampling the taste of us combined, and I’m envious. I want so badly to pull my finger away and steal a kiss; taste us on her lips. Only I’m torn over her reaction to such a bold move and missing the feel of her sultry tongue sliding over my finger.
I decide I’ve been enough of a masochist for one night—there’s only so much torture I can bear—and slowly draw my finger away. I take one quick taste for myself, popping my finger into my mouth, and then say, “Now that you’re sated, we can start our sessions.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Tonight?”
I smile. “As much as I want to bind you right now…come back tomorrow. Rest first. Make sure you soak your muscles so you’re nice and limber, then come back to me.”
The corner of her mouth kicks up. “I thought I was the one giving the orders?”
Oh, how I want to punish that smart mouth. Nip those soft lips and bite that tongue. Pressing my forehead against hers, needing to inhale the sweetness of her, I whisper, “When you finally understand everything, you’ll know just how much power you truly have over me.”
With that, I straighten and begin to untie her scarf.
One admission is enough for tonight.
11
Tracers
Sadie
T he reality of my predicament doesn’t fully sink in until I’m seated behind my desk, the printed profile of the UNSUB spread out before me.
Colton Reed, a
“Oh, God…Colton. I can’t…”
Her pleading breaks through my thoughts, and I pull away only long enough to find her eyes. Pushing my fingers hard against her swollen mound, I say, “Don’t think. Don’t fight. Just close your eyes and fuck my mouth.” Then I drop my head back between her thighs and nip her clit before my mouth surrounds her.
Hips bucking, she releases a strangled cry that pulses through me. I press deeper into her, my tongue caressing her clit as my other hand pumps my cock. And when she tenses—all sound muted until that single second when she shatters around me—I break free. I unleash a harsh groan as I spill my come to the floor, cock pulsing against her sweet wetness that still coats my hand, and we release together.
I stay where I am, just touching her, head resting against her pelvis, as I savor the aftershocks rolling off her to me. Her pants slow, and I look up into her face.
Her skin glows with a beautiful sheen of sweat. Features twisted, she looks pained, but I know that’s not true. I won’t let her feel guilty. That was our deal; no regret.
Standing slowly, I rise before her, still holding myself. Her gaze travels down.
“I’m still hard for you,” I say, running my palm along my shaft. “That’s what you do to me.”
I watch the slender column of her neck bob on a hard swallow. She clears her throat and says, “Can I taste you?”
And those words…coming from that mouth…send me right over the fucking edge. I grip the head of my cock and squeeze, biting out a curse as I throb from the inside out. I imagine grabbing my pocketknife and slitting her dress down the middle. Tearing it from her body. Strapping her to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner and hearing the sounds I know she’s capable of making—
But I push that craving down into my gut. Shut it off. She’s not there yet. And she may never be. Whoever gave her that scar on her collarbone stole something sacred from her.
It’s going to take more than a hot face-fuck to crumble her walls. And I may be greedy, I may be a glutton, but I’m still patient.
I want it all.
Exercising that patience now, I step closer to her as I swipe the tip of my finger over the head of my cock. Then bracing one hand beside her on the bench, I lower myself, bringing my finger close to her mouth.
Her eyes drag over my face, flicking down to my slick finger. She parts her lips, and I rub the pad over her bottom lip. Her tongue snakes out to taste me, and a sharp hiss slips past my gritted teeth.
She sucks my finger into her mouth, sampling the taste of us combined, and I’m envious. I want so badly to pull my finger away and steal a kiss; taste us on her lips. Only I’m torn over her reaction to such a bold move and missing the feel of her sultry tongue sliding over my finger.
I decide I’ve been enough of a masochist for one night—there’s only so much torture I can bear—and slowly draw my finger away. I take one quick taste for myself, popping my finger into my mouth, and then say, “Now that you’re sated, we can start our sessions.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Tonight?”
I smile. “As much as I want to bind you right now…come back tomorrow. Rest first. Make sure you soak your muscles so you’re nice and limber, then come back to me.”
The corner of her mouth kicks up. “I thought I was the one giving the orders?”
Oh, how I want to punish that smart mouth. Nip those soft lips and bite that tongue. Pressing my forehead against hers, needing to inhale the sweetness of her, I whisper, “When you finally understand everything, you’ll know just how much power you truly have over me.”
With that, I straighten and begin to untie her scarf.
One admission is enough for tonight.
11
Tracers
Sadie
T he reality of my predicament doesn’t fully sink in until I’m seated behind my desk, the printed profile of the UNSUB spread out before me.
Colton Reed, a
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