Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(85)

India grabbed the can, climbed off the chair and shut off the TV.


In record time, Colt’s sweats and boxers sailed to the floor.


The little vixen trailed the fringed end of the dishtowel over his thighs and stomach. His flesh rolled beneath her touch and he recognized the power she had on him, body and soul.


It was surprisingly sexy to give up control.


“Last thing. Keep your hands on the armrest until I say otherwise. If I feel those mitts in my hair or on my face, I’ll stop and tie them together with this towel. Understand?” She snapped it once by his head for good measure.


Colt nodded. Damn. Was this domination stuff as much of a turn-on for her when he did it?


“Good.” India dropped to her knees and scooted between his legs. She rubbed those soft breasts and pebbled nipples over the coarse hair on the inside of his thighs. “That feels good. Do you like that?”


“Hell yes.”


He went rigid as she studied him, as if deciding where to start.


The tip of his cock jerked. The thick vein running up the center pulsed; pearly liquid seeped out the purple head.


With an evil grin she put the nozzle at the base of his shaft and squirted a wide line straight up.


“Holy shit! That’s cold!”


“Not for long.” She bent her head and zigzagged her tongue up the length of his erection.


It took every ounce of control not to grab her head and force her mouth where he wanted it. Not to touch her while she was tormenting him.


She swirled more sweet stuff around the head of his cock. Then she sat back and admired her handiwork. “Mmm. Looks like a big mushroom, don’t you think? And isn’t it lucky I love mushrooms?”


She daintily closed her lips over the rim where the cap met the shaft and sucked.


Colt’s hips shot up, a reflex for her to take him all the way in her mouth.


“Huh-uh. Not yet. I’ve still got half a can of creamy goodness to mess with. You were the one who wanted to mess around, weren’t you, Colt?”


He groaned.


She tortured him. Fleeting licks from his balls to the twitching tip. Then she’d suck him hard until the head hit the back of her throat. Bringing him to the edge again and again. Leaving him hanging there by a thread and then starting over. Hot mouth. Cool spray of whipped cream. The wet lap of her tongue.


His thighs clenched. His knuckles were white on the black armrest. He gritted his teeth. Sweat dripped from his temple. He didn’t touch her. But he knew his eyes were absolutely wild and probably begging. Finally, he panted, “Enough.”


India smiled. “You’ve been a very good boy. You can touch me now.” She curled her hand around the root and began to pump as her wet mouth moved up and down. Clasping her lips tightly as she released him from her mouth, opening her throat as his cock slid back in into that warm cavern. Creating a rhythm that made him pant and squirm.


Colt’s hands cupped her face; his thumbs traced the center of her hollowed cheeks. Then his hips thrust higher.


“Faster. Like that. Oh God, India. Don’t stop. Oh Jesus. Oh f*ck.” He gripped her head as he erupted against the roof of her mouth. She sucked and he felt her jaw working as she swallowed and swallowed until he was fully spent.


After his cock quit throbbing and he could think again, he sank back into the recliner.


She stood.


Colt pulled her onto his lap. He aligned her back against the front of his body, hugging her tightly. “Would it be lame if I said thank you?”