Guilty Needs(9)

Oh, he knew he was dreaming.

His dreams were the only place he could let himself think about Bree without guilt. Dreams couldn’t be controlled, they could only be dealt with and he figured dreaming about f*cking her was a sight better than hunting her down to do it.

In real life, he could, and would, control himself.

But in his dreams…Another weird shift and they were no longer standing in an unfamiliar room, but lying on the bed, Colby sprawled between her thighs while he licked her, while he f*cked her with his tongue until she wailed out his name and begged him to f*ck her with his cock.

Begged—as though she were as desperate for him as he was for her.

“Please, Colby—damn it, I can’t stand it.”

He crawled up her body, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, deep and hard. “You’ll stand it. You’ll take it. We need it…I need it,” he growled against her mouth as he pushed her thighs wide and settled between, with his weight braced on his hands.

Tucking the broad head of his cock against the mouth of her *, he waited until she reached for him before he took her, before he f*cked her.

Before he loved her.

Over and over, harder and harder, until she wailed out his name and raked her nails over his shoulders. When her cries faded away to soft, exhausted mewls of pleasure, he slowed…braced his weight above and stared down into her flushed face.

Waiting.

For her eyes to clear, for her breathing to calm, for her heartbeat to slow. Then, hooking his arms under hers, he cradled her head in his hands, tangling his fingers in the short, gleaming strands of her hair and tugged until she lifted her mouth to his.

Slowly, he kissed her.

And slowly, he started to move.

Deep. Hard. Slow. Even when she started to rock under him, lifting her hips to his and trying to force him deeper, take him faster, he held steady. He nibbled on her lower lip, kissed his way down sweat-slicked flesh and caught one nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking, then shifting his attention to the other breast.

The ache in his heart, in his balls expanded, spreading through his entire body, until the hunger and the need threatened to consume him. The need to come was a vicious, twisting pain, but he wouldn’t do it.

Not yet.

He couldn’t let this end…not yet.

Because once it ended, he’d wake up…and he’d be alone again…




Alone again.

Colby came awake with the sheets twisted around his legs, his hand wrapped around his dick, pumping furiously, the orgasm just two seconds away from blowing the head of his cock off.

Gritting his teeth, he arched his back, closed his eyes and tried to grab the dream, tried to lose himself in it as he stroked his cock to orgasm.

Couldn’t think—not yet. Couldn’t remember—not yet.

His heavy length jerked in his hand and he groaned as semen started to spurt from the tip, coating his hand and belly. Breathing raggedly, he stroked himself through it, until he’d emptied himself.

Then, with guilt gnawing at his gut and loneliness burning through his heart, he opened his eyes and stared sightlessly up at the ceiling.




The first thing Colby noticed was that the property had been tended to.

The second thing he noticed was that the mailbox wasn’t full to overflowing—there wasn’t even a copy of the Sunday paper from yesterday. Of course, he hadn’t paid the bill in…twelve months. They’d probably stopped delivery months ago.

Shit, for all he knew, the house had been repossessed and sold, wasn’t even his anymore. This was what happened when you just disappeared and left everything behind.

Shoving a hand through his hair, he drove up to the house and parked on the semi-circle in front. At the end of the arc, it curved off to the right, disappearing behind the house where there was a three-car garage and a pool that would most likely need a massive overhaul before it could be used. He climbed out, leaving his bag in the car for now. Weird, he’d expected the house to have that deserted, vacant feel to it but it didn’t.

So what if the damn place got sold? he thought, unsure if he cared or not. Part of him didn’t want to care—this house wasn’t a home anymore.

But he also wasn’t entirely sure he’d be happy if it had been repossessed. Not that he’d have a leg to stand on. It wasn’t as if he’d been keeping up on the payments. He’d spent the past year roaming around the eastern half of the country, doing his damnedest to forget anything and everything about his life—at least for a while.

He’d come back to take care of this place, get it off his hands, so it was weird to discover that he would mind if the place had been sold.

He hadn’t written a word, hadn’t read a book, hadn’t spoken with anybody he knew, just gone from town to town, working odd jobs here and there. He’d taken a sizable chunk out of his savings account just before he left and lived on that money until it was gone, then he’d gotten by on what he could make with the odd jobs. He’d made his way through the Carolinas, down the coast to Florida, up to Alabama, with no particular destination in mind.

The past few months, he’d worked in Mobile, doing construction for a while, then waited tables when the economic slump had hit the construction industry. The days had passed in a surreal blur.

Endless nights passed slowly, haunted by dreams that left him aching and sick with guilt. Quite a few of those nights, he ended up relying on strong, hard liquor to quiet the dreams.