His fingertips graze the back of my hand, and he plucks the rope from my wrist.
“Oh, sorry, I—” I start to apologize for playing with something I probably shouldn’t have. It probably had some important function I’m unaware of and wasn’t supposed to be touched—I don’t know how cowboy things work.
“It’s fine. It’s just a lead rope.” He smirks, slipping his hand into one of the loops I made. He repeats the action with the other. The dark green fibers brush through his arm hair, and I notice I’m not the only one with goosebumps on my skin. With the rope hanging loosely, draped around his thick wrists, his eyes search mine.
When his wrists pull away from each other, the rope tightens and his eyes widen. Then he steps in front of me, slipping his bound hands up and over my head to settle at the nape of my neck. And he kisses me. My needy body melts into his. The kisses we shared earlier only made me more ravenous after weeks without his taste.
His searing tongue delves into my mouth, stealing my gasp. The strong, thick rope pulls against my neck, forcing meeven closer and cradling my skull as he devours me. His pelvis rocks into mine, and it’s not until the outline of his firm cock presses into me that I realize he’s just as hungry for me as I am for him.
“Tell me what to do,” he murmurs into my mouth between bruising kisses. “Tell me what you want from me.”
For tonight? Or…
“Forever.” I accidentally say the quiet part out loud.
“You already have that.” He puts a breath of space between us. “Tell me what you want right now.”
I drag my fingertips down his spine to knead the firm muscle of his ass. Since the moment I noticed he was wearing a green button-down to the wedding, I’ve been thinking about tearing it off. So I do.
The buttons pull apart easily, and I throw my head back with a giggle. “The fucking raccoon shirt. So much for getting to run my tongue over your bare chest.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” His hands and the rope tangle in my hair as he frantically lifts them over my head. “Let me fix that.”
Grabbing the rope between his teeth, he wiggles the rope to free his hands, and in seconds he’s tossing both shirts on top of a random saddle. My eyes crawl over his body, curving with the ridges of his stomach and the hair trailing down to his belt buckle. He’smine. Colt Campbell ismine. For tonight and for forever.
The green rope hangs loose in his hand when he holds it out to me. The need in his voice is gravelly and deep. “Tie me up, honey. I’m yours.”
With a gulp, I take it and form the same two adjustable loops as before. Muscle memory from years of playing Cat’s Cradle as a little kid comes in handy for the first time in my adult life.
I instruct him to turn around, and he does withouthesitation, both hands immediately moving behind his back. I secure the makeshift handcuffs around his right wrist, then repeat on the left. When he spins to face me, the pull of his arms tied behind him makes his chest and shoulders more prominent than usual. His smile is easy and flirtatious, and he steals a glance down at his crotch. The tight denim isn’t doing much to hide his want. And neither is the underwear sticking to my damp skin.
My fingers fumble with his belt. Despite barely any time apart, this feels like our first time all over again. I wonder if he can hear my thunderous heartbeat.
When his jeans fall to the floor, belt buckle thudding on smooth cement, I reach between his legs to stroke a hand down his anxiously bobbing cock. Colt curls forward with a dark, feral groan.
“Goddamn, you really know how to torture me.”
“I barely touched you.” I laugh, and it makes him laugh.
“I know what touching leads to with you,” he whines as my other hand massages his taut balls. And despite his protest, his legs instinctively separate, giving me access to drag a firm fingertip over his taint.
A throaty “Fuck” carries through the room.
His cock pulsates and twitches in my hand, and my clit throbs with the needy desire to be touched, licked, and worshipped by my man. I circle my thumb over his wet head, getting my skin sticky with his arousal, and I bring it to his lips.
He hesitates, eyes wide and prey-like. He’s probably wishing he wasn’t bound so he could shove me and run away. His lips roll together, and with a small wince of his left eyelid, he opens his mouth for me. I run my thumb over his warm tongue and follow up with a kiss to taste the hint of saltiness on his breath. He moans, entire body relaxing when my lips touch his.
“Get on your knees,” I demand.
As he slowly lowers himself without the help of his hands, I pinch the small scrap of fabric I’m wearing underneath my dress and slip it off, tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. Then I slowly hike up the hem of my maxi dress. I’ve always been a tall girl, and after years of backhanded compliments about my long legs, they’re a part of me I’ve had to work hard to learn to appreciate. But Colt immediately leans in to kiss and lick my bare knees and thighs, appreciating every inch of them.
“You, Whit Hart, are my fucking queen.” He stares up at me, knees resting on his crumpled jeans. “Can I taste you?”
“I don’t want you to taste me, Colt.”
One would think I’d stabbed him in the heart and kicked his dog, the way he looks up at me. Every hope and dream shattering in his deep blue eyes.
“I want you to fucking devour me.” The backs of my knuckles drag across his cheek. “I want to ride your tongue until my cum is dripping from your chin.”
