Page 123 of Shut Up and Score
His fingers tighten in my hair, just a little, and when his lashes finally lift, his eyes are heavy, still hazy from sleep but locked right on me. There’s something there—something soft and dangerous—that makes my chest ache worse than any tackle I’ve ever taken.
For a minute, he lets me keep kissing him, slow and indulgent, as if we don’t have the world waiting outside this room. His free hand drifts down to my shoulder, my back, gentle but possessive.
“Colton…” My name leaves him full of need.
“Yeah?” I murmur, not stopping the lazy path of my mouthdown his stomach, my fingertips tracing the top of the sheet.
“You’re gonna ruin me.” His voice cracks on it, and my heart stumbles because I want to sayme too.
I let my mouth wander lower, tracing the ridges of his stomach with soft kisses, feeling him stir more fully under me. His hand tightens in my hair as I dip lower, dragging my lips along the sharp line of his hip as I push the sheets lower.
“Colt…” His voice is hoarse now, half a plea, half a warning.
“Shh,” I murmur against his skin. “Let me.”
I take him in my hand, feeling him hard and heavy against my palm. I look up once, just to see his face—his eyes are fully open now, dark and dazed, his mouth parted. The sight alone makes my chest tighten and my cock twitch.
I bend and wrap my lips around him, slow, careful, hollowing my cheeks as he sinks into my mouth. He groans, his head tipping back against the pillow, and I feel his hips twitch. I hold him steady, taking more, sucking soft and slow, savoring every sound that breaks from his throat.
“Fuck,” he hisses, one hand still buried in my hair, the other fisting the sheets. I hollow my cheeks again and drag my tongue along the underside of his cock, and his back arches. I catch his piercing, and he breathes out a breath of pleasure through his teeth.
I set a rhythm, unhurried and deep, my free hand curling around his thigh to keep him in place. He’s making these soft, broken noises that go straight to my spine, and I feel drunk on him, on the taste and the weight and the knowledge that he’s letting me do this.
He twitches in my grip, and my chest tightens at the trust in the way he just…lets me.
My whole body aches with wanting him, with the need to memorize every second of this.
His head tips back against the pillow, a groan tearing from his throat. His hips jerk instinctively, but I press a hand to his stomach to steady him, setting the pace I want.
He mutters my name like it’s a secret, as though he doesn’t want to give it to me but can’t hold it back.
Every soft, helpless noise he makes sends heat spiraling through me and has my own cock straining against the sheets.
It feels like more than just wanting him. It feels like giving in completely, of handing him a piece of myself I’ve been hiding for years. And right now, I don’t care if he keeps it or breaks it—I just want him to know he’s mine, at least in this moment.
I take him deeper, my throat relaxing as he gasps my name, and the sound goes straight to my cock. His hips twitch again, and I squeeze his thigh in warning, slowing down to tease the head with my tongue, tasting salt and heat and Micah.
His breathing is uneven now, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. “Colt…” he warns again, voice cracking this time.
I pull back slowly, letting him slip free from my mouth with a soft, wet sound, and wipe my lips with the back of my hand. He’s not done yet. My heart’s hammering, and I crawl up his body, kissing his stomach, his chest, the slope of his throat, until I’m hovering over him.
His eyes are dark and hazy, but there’s tension there too, a question he isn’t asking. I kiss the corner of his mouth, then the other, before pressing our lips together in a soft, lingering kiss.He tastes of sleep and salt and something that makes my chest ache.
“I want you,” I whisper against his mouth. My voice comes out rough, desperate. “I want to—” I swallow, gathering the courage I never thought I’d have. “I want to fuck you.”
His eyes fly open a little wider, that sharp, assessing Micah look breaking through the haze. For a second, he hesitates, his hand tightening against my shoulder as if he’s holding himself back.
“Colt…” he murmurs.
I kiss him again, slower this time, trying to put everything I feel into it. “Please,” I breathe. “I’ll go slow. I just…need to feel you.”
He stares at me for a long heartbeat, and I can feel his pulse thrumming under my palm where I’ve braced it against his chest. Then he exhales, tilts his head back into the pillow, and nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”
Relief and want crash through me all at once. I press another kiss to his jaw, my hand already reaching for the nightstand, for the lube and condom, every nerve in my body sparking with the promise of him finally letting me all the way in.
I hover over him, braced on shaking arms, my chest pressed to his as I kiss him like I’ve wanted to for years. Slow, deep, as if he’s the only thing keeping me alive.
