"Oh Colt," I gasp, arching into him.
His mouth finds my neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot just below my ear. I moan, my hands sliding beneath his sweatshirt, seeking skin.
He’s always so warm. So hot.
“Missed you,” he growls, his lips trailing lower.
“I missed you too,” I pant, tugging his sweatshirt up. He helps me pull it over his head, tossing it somewhere toward the television. My gaze catches on the deep cut of his abs, the ridges so defined I want to trace them with my tongue.
God, he's built like a damn fantasy, every inch of him powerful, tempting, and now… forevermineto touch.
He makes quick work of my sweater, then the clasp of my bra. When his hands finally, finally cover my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, I cry out.
"That's it, let me hear you."
He swallows the sound with another kiss, deep and demanding as I reach for his cock. He strips my leggings and panties down my legs with impatient hands as I fumble with the drawstring of his sweats, pushing them down over his hips until he’s free, hard and heavy in my hand.
He groans, his hips jerking with every long stroke I make. “Fuck, Zoey.”
“Now,” I beg, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Please, Colt.”
He doesn’t make me wait.
He slides into me in one slow, devastating stroke, and I feel every thick inch of him stretching me, filling me so completely that my breath catches in my throat. The sensation is overwhelming. That perfect, aching fullness that makes my inner walls clench around him, desperate to hold him there forever.
We both gasp, our foreheads pressing together, our eyes locked in something that feels more intimate than the connection between our bodies.
"Oh god," I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders as he seats himself fully inside me. He's so deep, hitting places that were neglected for far too long, but not anymore.
"Yes, oh…" I moan louder, shifting my hips. "Yes, Colt. More."
My hips roll instinctively, needing more, needingeverything.
I don't need to hold back anymore. Not my dreams, not my voice, not the sounds building in my chest that I've spent years learning to swallow and hide.
Colt has changed everything. Not just for me, but for my daughter too. I spent eight years of training myself to be silent,to be smaller, to take up as little space as possible while I handled everything alone.
But not anymore.
"Fuck, you feel incredible." His jaw clenches, his thrusts growing stronger. "So tight. So wet. Like you were made for me."
I moan at his words, at the way his cock throbs inside me, at the raw hunger burning in those blue eyes that won't look away from mine.
He watches me the whole time, his gaze intense, worshipful.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice ragged. “My beautiful, brilliant, perfect woman.”
The praise goes straight to my core, tightening everything. I’m already close, teetering on the edge.
He feels it, and one of his hands slips between our bodies, his fingers finding my clit, circling exactly the right way.
That’s all it takes.
My orgasm crashes over me, a wave of pure, blinding pleasure that rips a choked scream from my throat. Colt follows me over, his own release shuddering through him, his hips stuttering as he buries his face in my neck with a groan.
Afterward, we lie tangled together on the sofa, a mess of limbs and discarded clothes. The TV is still on, muted, showing highlights from a different game. Morgan’s playlist has ended, leaving the apartment in peaceful quiet.
Colt’s fingers trace my bare back, and I’m sprawled half on top of him, my head on his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart.
