He drops to his knees, rips the dress up higher and moves my underwear to the side before he buries his face between my legs. His mouth is hot, tongue flat and rough, moving in tight circles over me. He sucks hard, then nips, sending lightning down my spine.
I writhe, try to pull away, but his hands clamp onto my thighs and hold me in place.
He hums against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core.
I come, fast and brutal, my whole body locking up. I don’t try to be quiet. I don’t care who hears. The noise tears out of my throat, so feral I can hardly believe it’s mine, and when it’s done I collapse against the rail.
Colton stands, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and grins.
“You’re a mess,” he says, pride in every syllable. “A beautiful fucking mess. And when I’m done with you, you’re going to be walking around with my cum smeared down your thighs, knowing that the only man who can ever make you come alive, is me.”
He unzips his pants, frees himself. He’s already hard, leaking, ready.
He lines up at my entrance.
He doesn’t ask if I want it. He knows.
He pushes in, slow at first and the stretch makes me whimper.
His hand grabs my hip, the other grabs my throat, not choking, just holding me still. His grip is a warning. A promise.
His thighs shake with the effort not to bottom out until finally, he thrusts, all the way. I bite my lip to keep from screaming.
He sets a brutal rhythm, fucking me against the rail, each thrust driving the air from my lungs.
The cold wind hits my exposed skin, makes the heat between my legs all the more intense.
I look up at him. His face is wild, hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched.
He never looks away.
He pounds into me, harder and harder, until the rail rattles. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, cling to him, nails digging through the fabric of his suit.
His hands move to grip my hips, and he lifts me so my feet dangle.
I’m helpless, completely at his mercy.
He keeps going, relentless. My core tightens as I reach down and circle my clit, another orgasm building.
He senses it, leans in, and bites my shoulder.
The pain tips me over the edge. I come again, harder this time, the pleasure blinding as I squirt all over his cock.
He groans, hips stuttering, and I feel him spill inside me, hot and throbbing.
His hips keep snapping forward, time and again, milking every last wave of sensation, until finally he slows, then stops.
We stay like that, panting, bodies fused together.
His head drops to my shoulder, breath hot on my skin.
After a minute, he sets me down, pulls my dress back into place, and tucks himself away.
He kisses me, soft this time, almost tender.
“Fuck, you’re perfect, aren’t you, Scholarship?”
I nod, too wrecked to speak.
