Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(89)

“What? Do you turn into a werewolf or something?”


“You’re f*ckin’ hilarious.”


“I’ll keep cracking jokes until the crack of dawn because I’m not going anywhere, McKay, so you might as well talk to me.”


“I already told you; I don’t wanna talk.”


“So let’s f*ck.”


Colt wheeled around. “You don’t want to f*ck me either, because I ain’t a nice guy right about now.”


“I don’t care.”


“Yeah? Even when I warn you haven’t begun to see my aggressive side?”


“So show me. I’m a big girl. Maybe I like it rough.”


“You don’t know what you’re askin’.”


“Maybe you don’t know what you’re denying me. Or yourself.”


He snarled. “Don’t push me.”


India raised her chin. “Even if I do, I know you won’t hurt me.”


“I’ll use you. Hard.”


“It’s not using me if I’m a willing participant.”


“A willing participant? In rough sex? You’re sure?” Colt stalked her. “I’ll have you any way I want, as many times as I want, until I’ve had my fill of your hot little body. You understand, once I start, I won’t stop. Not even if you beg me.”


“But I am begging you to let me be what you need. I don’t know what that is unless you show me.”


Just like that…Colt lost it. He didn’t kiss her; he inhaled her.


The second he touched her, his cock inflated. His heart rate kicked up. He slid his hands over the curves of her hips, then hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her leggings and pulled them to her feet.


His finger traced the crack of her ass, past that tight pucker to the sticky slit of her *.


He ripped his mouth free. “Christ. You’re already wet.”


“That’s what seeing you half-naked, sweaty, beating the shit out of a punching bag does to me.”


His answer was a low growl as he yanked her shirt off. Colt dropped his boxing shorts and brought them both to the mat with India on the bottom and his hands beside her head.


Colt surged inside her. Pounding into that hot, pliant flesh.


Over and over. Harder and harder. Not kissing her. Not looking at her. Not touching her. Just f*cking her.


India’s legs circled his lower back as her hands spread across his upper back. Bringing him closer.


Thrust, thrust, then a grinding withdrawal.


So perfect. Her * was so smooth and wet and hot.


The mat was slippery with sweat. He was slippery with sweat.


Sandwiched between Colt and the mat, India became slippery with sweat and they scooted sideways.


Colt hardly noticed, he was so focused on getting to that point of no return, each stroke all the way in, then all the way back out.


Thrust, thrust, grind. Thrust, thrust, grind.


She didn’t say a word, just raked her nails down his back and arched her hips hard. Colt knew her reactions well enough by now that he instinctively increased the side-to-side movement on every upstroke and downstroke.


That simple change set India off. She gasped, her cunt squeezed his cock like a vise and her nails gouged his ass with enough pressure she probably left bloody half-moon shapes on his skin.