Page 39 of Deviant
I make it four steps.
His hand closes around my wrist.
His fingers wrap around my pulse point, but he doesn’t yank me back, just holds my wrist, stopping me. And I stand there, with my back to him, my heart slamming against my ribs, but I don’t pull away.
“Going somewhere, Golden Boy?” Colt’s voice is smoke and gravel, right against my ear. His chain is cold where it presses my neck, and his rings dig into my hip where he’s gripping me. “You don’t get to kiss me like that then run. I’m tired of letting you run away from me like some fucking coward.”
I shove back with my elbows, but he doesn’t budge. He just laughs, the sound vibrating through my spine.
“Let go,” I rasp.
“No.” He grinds forward, and I feel every thick inch of him hard against my ass through denim. “You broke up with her in front of half the damn county because you couldn’t stand watching her touch me. Right?”
“Fuck you.”
“Already planning on it.”
He spins me until my back hits the tree again, bark scraping my shoulders. His mouth crashes down, claiming, biting my lower lip until I taste copper. I bite back harder. He groans like it’s praise.
I shove at his chest. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” His hand slides down, cups me through my jeans, and squeezes just hard enough to make my knees buckle. “You’re leaking for it already.”
Heat floods my face. Shame and want twist together until I can’t separate them.
“Stop—” The word cracks on my tongue.
He doesn’t. Instead, he pops the button on my jeans and drags the zipper down. Cool night air hits my skin as he shovesdenim and my boxers to mid-thigh in one rough yank. My cock springs free, already flushed, hard, and slick at the tip.
“Look at you. So fucking pretty when you’re lying to yourself.”
I grab his wrist. “Don’t.”
His thumb swipes over the head, spreading pre-cum. I hiss, hips jerking forward despite myself.
“That’s what I thought.” He drops to his knees in the dirt. Pine needles crunch under him as his hands grip my hips, thumbs digging into the V of my pelvis, holding me open.
“Colt…wait?—”
He doesn’t wait.
His hot, wet mouth closes over the head. No tease, no gentle licks, just takes me deep in one slick glide, his throat relaxing to take me all the way in. My head slams back against the trunk, bark scraping scalp. A choked curse rips out of me.
“Fuck…fuck…stop?—”
He hums around me instead, and the vibration shoots straight to my balls. One hand slides up under my shirt, his rough palm scraping over my abs, then pinching my nipple hard enough to make me arch. The other wraps around my base, stroking what his mouth can’t reach.
I fist his hair and yank.
Trying to pull him off. Trying to pull him closer.
He pulls back just enough to speak, lips shiny. “You want me to stop, Rhett? Really?” His tongue flicks the slit, lapping at the steady drip. I shudder so hard I feel so close to coming.
“I—” The word dies on my tongue.
“Didn’t think so.” He dives back down, hollowing his cheeks, sucking hard. His head is bobbing fast now—sloppy, obscene, wet sounds echoing in the quiet woods. His free hand cups my balls, rolling them gently, then tugs just enough to sting.
Pleasure-pain spikes through me, and my hips snap forward on instinct, fucking into his mouth. He groans his approval, taking me deeper, his nose brushing my pubic bone.
