"After." He looks up at me from between my thighs, and then his mouth is on me, and I stop forming words.
His tongue moves in slow, flat strokes, learning the terrain before narrowing his focus. He finds the spot that makes my spine arch and stays there, alternating pressure and pace with a maddening accuracy that accounts for every response and adjusts accordingly.
My fingers twist into the sheets and then into his hair, and the sounds I'm making have abandoned anything resembling dignity.
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them forward, and the dual sensation of his tongue and his hand working together undoes every boundary between my body and my brain.
The orgasm builds from a low heat to something I can feel in my teeth. When it breaks, it breaks hard. My thighs clamp against his head, my back leaves the mattress, and the sound that comes out of me fills the bedroom and probably carries to the pasture where the horses are going to have opinions about it.
He works me through it, easing the pressure but not pulling away, drawing out every tremor until I push at his shoulder because the sensitivity has crossed from pleasure into somethingI can't take. He lifts his head and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The look on his face is pure satisfied male, and under any other circumstances I'd take issue with the arrogance, but he earned it and we both know it.
"That was the overture?" My voice is wrecked.
"That was the overture."
"What's the plan?"
"I'll show you."
"Give me a minute. You broke something."
"I'll wait."
I don't give him a minute. I push myself upright and put my hands on his shoulders and shove him back until he's sitting on the edge of the mattress.
The surprise on his face is worth cataloging. Colt does not get pushed. Colt does not sit where he's told to sit. The fact that he lets me move him tells me more about what's shifted between us than any words he's said today.
I drop to my knees between his legs. His stomach tightens, and I watch the muscle jump as I run my hands up his thighs.
"You don't have to?—"
"I know I don't have to." I work his belt open and pull it free, then the button, the zipper. He lifts his hips and I pull the denim down, and the hard length of him is thick against his stomach. "I want to. I've been thinking about this since Creede."
"Since Creede?"
"You walked out of the shower and I had a very detailed internal conversation about what I wanted to do to you." I wrap my hand around the base of him, and the breath he lets out is rough and raw. "You were oblivious."
"I was not oblivious. I was exercising restraint."
"How's that restraint treating you now?"
His answer dies when I lower my mouth over him. I take him in slowly, letting my tongue press along the underside, and thesound he makes is the first truly uncontrolled sound I've ever heard from him.
I set a pace that matches the one he used on me, calculated and thorough, designed to take him apart. My hand works the base while my mouth takes the rest, and I hollow my cheeks on each upstroke and press my tongue flat on the way down.
His hand finds the back of my head. He's not pushing, not guiding, just holding, his fingers spread through my hair and trembling with the effort of not taking over. The discipline of that restraint, the visible fight between the man who controls everything and the one giving that control to me, is the most erotic thing I've ever experienced.
"Kenna." My name sounds different in his mouth right now, rough and fractured at the edges. "You need to stop or this is going to end before the plan."
I pull off slowly, letting my lower lip drag along the length of him, and the look on his face is worth every second of the wait. The composed, controlled bull rider is gone. The man looking down at me is stripped bare.
"Get up here." His voice is gravel.
He pulls me up and onto the bed, and then he's over me, and the playful energy between us catches fire. He enters me in one long stroke, and the stretch and fullness of him pulls a sound from somewhere deep. He stills inside me, forehead pressed against mine, both of us breathing hard.
"I love you," he says against my mouth, with the same directness he brings to everything that matters.
"I love you too." I roll my hips underneath him. "Now move."
