Page 3 of Colt
I was tall for a woman, but he was taller. My head was angled back to keep my eyes on his hazel ones. Beneath his tan Stetson, his light brown hair curled against his nape. His jaw was square and that mouth… I wanted more. He smelled like cinnamon and sin, even over the pungent animal scents that filled the arena.
A man on horseback had us stepping back, but he took my hand in his and tugged me down the corridor. We hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t said a word. For some crazy reason, it didn’t feel like we had to. That I knew him somehow even though I’d never laid eyes on him before.
Should I be concerned a stranger was leading me deeper into the arena, trying one door and then the next until he pulled me into a cleaning closet? Yes, definitely. But all I could feel was exhilaration and arousal as I took in his forearms and the corded muscle and veins. His broad shoulders beneath his black t-shirt. The tapered waist. Worn jeans that outlined his butt and sturdy thighs to perfection.
That kiss had made my panties damp, and my nipples rub painfully against the fabric of my plain cotton bra. When he shut the door behind us and pressed me against it, I met his gaze and couldn’t look away.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” I replied.
His eyes roved over my face, then settled on my lips.
“You feel this?”
“Your dick against my hip?”
He grinned and oh my…
“I saw you, pretty girl, and that was it.”
I nodded, because I felt the same. “This is crazy.”
He shrugged, seeming completely unconcerned.
“I need more of your mouth.”
“Okay.” I was never this pliant. I was a doctor. Strict and controlled. Ruthlessly scheduled. I’d been in school for eight years and then residency for a few more and God, my time hadn’t been my own for as long as I could remember. Even now, I didn’t do crazy or reckless things. I knew what could happen.
The only thing that could come from this encounter was an orgasm. Maybe–hopefully–two.
So when I consented to more kisses, he cupped my face again and took control. I melted, giving over to him. His mouth, his tongue. His hands when they started to rove over me.
“You’re perfect. Fuck, you feel good,” he murmured as he kissed along my jaw.
I shook my head. “No. I’m a bad girl,” I said, letting my fantasy escape.
He stilled as he nuzzled behind my ear. “Oh yeah? Is it because you’re in here with me? A man who wants to fuck you?”
I licked my lips, raised my hands to his hair, knocking his hat to the floor. “Yes.”
“You usually fuck a cowboy in a janitor’s closet?” he asked, this time his voice more growl than before. His hands were on my breasts, cupping them and testing their weight. When his fingers pinched my nipples in what felt like a punishment, I moaned. Clearly, he didn’t like the idea of another man touching me.
I shook my head. “No. I’m not like this.”
“You mean you’re only like this with me.” He pushed my plain white t-shirt up and under my armpits, then did the same with my bra, baring me to him.
Then he dropped to his knees and he looked up at me.
His beard was full, darker than the hair on his head. His mouth glistened from the kisses and his cheeks were flushed. It was those eyes, the way they seemed to be able to look into my soul, that had me mesmerized.
“Bad girls get fucked, pretty girl. You okay with that?”
I nodded, because I’d never been so turned on in my life.
His hands were at the button of my jeans. “I need to hear the words.”
“Yes.Yes. I need to be fucked.”
