Page 58 of Colt

I gasp at the hot gush of cum he releases onto my stomach as he hangs his head. My shirt’s still riding up a little from me reaching inside it, allowing him full access. He pumps ropes of pearlescent liquid onto my skin. So many I lose count.

It’s lewd and wrong and so fucking hot.

I should push him away. Tell him he’s being gross.

Instead, I watch, gripped by a full-body shiver. Why does it feel like he’s marking me? Staking his claim?

When he’s done, he lifts his head. His pupils are blown out, expression a little bewildered like he can’t believe he just did that.

He can’t believe I let him do that.

And then he doubles down. He carefully tucks himself back into his briefs and zips up his jeans, buckles his belt… Then he swipes his thumb across my belly, gathering his cum. Without a word, he lifts that thumb and draws it over my bottom lip.

“Just in case you’re curious,” he says.

Thing is I am curious. If he hates me so much, why do I turn him on? Why does he turn me on? Will this happen again?

I really, really hope this happens again. Because his eyes are fire but his touch is gentle. His thumb lingers on the corner of my mouth. I can already taste his saltiness.

His breath is hot on my skin as he drags his eyes over my face. Part of me wants to gather his cum on my tongue and spit it back at him. But something tells me that’d just make him smile.

Instead, I run my tongue along my bottom lip. “Tastes like you enjoyed what you saw.”

He grits his teeth, like he’s angry I’m right.

Suddenly he’s leaning down. He hooks his hand underneath my knee and lifts it off the mounting block. He leans in, his scruff scraping against the skin of my upper thigh. He’s so close to where I want him most. Is he actually gonna kiss me there?

I yelp when he bites me instead, right there on the inside of my thigh. “Ow, Colton! What the fuck? That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Straightening, he adjusts his belt. “Just a little reminder of who hates you best.”

CHAPTER 13

Bite Marks and Bruises

LAINEY

Later, in the shower, I gently run my fingertips over the bruise that’s already formed on my thigh.

My pulse skips. Body heats.

What. The fuck. Was that?!

My stomach flips for the five hundredth time when I replay the things Colton fucking Wallace did back in the barn. The things he made me feel.

Leaning my forehead on the tiled wall, I let the water course over my head and down my shoulders and back. I’m exhausted.

I hate myself for giving in. For letting him rile me up like that. The second he mentioned the handcuffs, I should’ve bolted.

Instead, I ended up masturbating in front of him before letting him come on my stomach. Honestly, what is wrong with me?

It started innocently enough. After spending this much time on the ranch, I got the itch to be in the saddle. I figured I’d give it a try without the horse—the cowboys keep their saddles on these wooden rack things, and that seemed relatively safe. I could do it alone, when nobody was around. I had Nash’s videos as a guide too.

So I grabbed my phone and headed to the barn. Little did I know I would run into Colton. I could tell something was up. He had this agitated energy about him, like he was on the edge.

And there I was, all too eager to push him right over.

He shocked the shit out of me by cleaning me up when we were done with a fresh towel he found somewhere. Then he disappeared. But the hunger in his eyes⁠—