Fueled (Driven, #2)(88)
His fingers part my folds, his eyes never leaving mine, and he closes his mouth over my nub of nerve endings. My hands fly to fist in his hair, and I fight with everything I have to not close my eyes and give into the ecstasy of his clever tongue. I want to watch him while he drives me up and over, but the sensation is so strong that it overtakes me and I arch—my neck, my head, my back—pushing my hips out so I can rock against him.
He pulls my leg up and drapes it over his shoulder before adding his fingers to the mix. They press, push, and circle inside of me. My muscles clench so tight that when my climax claims me, I feel like my body shatters in a million pieces of ecstasy. Colton runs his tongue up and back over my sex before licking inside of me, drawing out every last tremor of my orgasm.
I sag against the wall behind me, needing its support because my legs have just been rendered boneless. I close my eyes and try to calm myself, but he has just obliterated my senses with such devastation that I’ve now lost a part of myself to him forever.
“My God, woman, a man could get drunk on the taste of you.” He groans as he places a soft kiss on my abdomen before rising from his knees. I open my eyes to his smug, satisfied smirk and eyes lidded heavy with desire. He leans in and kisses me forcefully, the taste of myself on his lips unexpectedly arousing.
I moan into his mouth, my hands snaking down his body to cup his erection through his pants, still wanting more, still needing more. He breaks from the kiss with a tortured groan and pulls away from me. “Colton,” I murmur, “let me take care of you.”
“Not here,” he tells me, smoothing my skirt down and smirking as he stuffs what’s left of my panties further down into his pocket. “I want to hear you scream out my name when I take you. I want to hear it when you fall apart from the things I’m going to do to you, Rylee. I want to claim you. Make you mine. Ruin you for any other man that dares to think of touching you.” He grimaces from the conviction of his words.
“You already have, Colton,” I breathe out without thinking, reaching out to place my fingertips to his lips. “I’m yours…” My words trail off as he stares at me, his jaw working overtime as he absorbs the words I’ve said.
A ghost of a smile mixed with an uncertain disbelief plays on his lips before shaking it away and pushing it aside. “I—we can’t continue here with what I want to do, but this,” he says, motioning to me and the wall, “will tide me over.” He flashes a quick grin at me before grabbing my hand and climbing the last flight of stairs.
I follow him, knowing my heart and body are far from recovered from that little episode. Haddie’s words flash through my head, and I can’t help but disagree with her. When it comes to Colton, I don’t just have it bad. I’ve drowned, been consumed, and am utterly and undeniably his.
Colton pushes open the door at the top of the stairwell, and I’m surprised to find us in the interior of a very masculine and sparsely decorated office. Assumptions aside, I know it’s his because it’s so similar to his office in Malibu. I step in behind him when I hear a gasp.
“Oh, Colt, you scared me half to death!” the feminine voice exclaims, and instantly my back bristles at her familiarity with him. Does the woman have to be everywhere? Fuucckk!
“Can I help you with something, Tawn?” Colton asks, and I swear that I hear an edge to the curiosity in his question.
Tawny straightens up from where she is leaned over his desk and straightens the papers she is fumbling with. Of course she looks flawless in her cleavage defying shirt, skin-tight pants, and freshly made-up face. The woman is absolutely, f*cking perfectly stunning. Her lips form a startled O shape as she looks at Colton before her eyes dart over to me and then back to him. The catty, territorial girl inside of me wants her to notice the flush on my cheeks and that just f*cked smirk on my face so it’s reaffirmed that she’s nothing more than a blip on Colton’s radar.
“Sorry. You scared me.” She exhales. “I was just looking for the Penzoil contract. I wasn’t sure if you’d had a chance to sign it. That’s all.” She smiles too sweetly.
I’ve got a place she can shove that fake smile.
Colton looks at her for a moment as if he’s trying to decipher something, but shakes his head absently. “Tawny, you’ve met Rylee, right?”
Tawny’s eyes flit back and forth between us noting our joined hands before re-plastering the smile that has slightly fallen from her lips. “Something like that,” she says as she steps out from behind his desk and walks—no, saunters—toward us. There really is no other way to describe it. Her eyes remain steadfast on Colton’s. She is definitely one of those women who are acutely aware of every move of her body and its effect on the opposite sex.
If I disliked her before, I truly detest her now.
Colton gives me a warning look as he feels my hand tense at her approach. “So good to see you again,” I lie, and I wonder if he has any idea of the future WWE Smackdown he’s just initiated. I have to stifle the giggle I feel bubbling up at the image of Tawny and me flying off of the ropes of a wrestling ring with bad costumes and even worse moves as we fight over the trophy of Colton.
“Yes, how unexpected to see you here.” She smiles, and I’m observant enough to note Colton’s eyebrows raise in amusement at the obvious tension between the two of us.
He turns to me, his eyes reissuing the warning to be on my best behavior as if he knows my WWE thoughts. “As you know, Tawny here is the head of my marketing team and is actually the one who came up with the lap match sponsorship idea.”