Unbelievable (Beg For It 4)

“Oh, yes.” She pushed her panties down, getting in on the action, as impatient as me. I smiled, liking to see the eagerness in her.

“First I want you to come quick, sweet Caroline.” I dipped my finger in, plunging it straight up into her slick, hot depths. She groaned and sank down on me, starting to fuck me all on her own. I pinched her nipple between my other fingers, loving the gasp she made, the way her eyes fluttered closed as she sank her head back against my chest.

“I want you to ride my fingers. Get off on me.”

“Oh!” She cried out and I felt a flood of wetness at my dirty talk. She bucked against my hand, two big fingers now thrusting up inside of her. My thumb against her clit, I finger-fucked her rough.

“Are you going to come for me?” I asked, harsh, pushing my cock against her ass. “Right here, now, how I want you to?”

She screamed, coming undone at my order, shivering and thrusting against my hand. I let her ride my fingers, drawing every last tremor out of her that I could.

“So good,” I praised her, dipping my mouth down to the curve between her neck and her shoulder. Kissing, gentle, my hand soothed her breast, her nipple, where I’d been so rough and demanding.

“Oh, Colt. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, Caroline. I want to show you how much all night.”

The dinner she’d cooked sat untouched and completely forgotten for several more hours as we attacked each other in the bedroom. Somewhere around one a.m. we stumbled back out into the kitchen, hair rumpled, my back red with scratches from her fingernails, her neck and breasts marked with my sucks and nips. But we both had huge smiles on our faces.

“It’s ruined,” she declared, surveying our dinner, but not sounding overly upset over it.

“I think I have some crackers.” I rummaged around in the pantry and did, indeed, find an unopened box. We spread crème fraiche on them, one at a time, sitting on the kitchen floor and feeding them to each other.

“You know what would make these taste even better?” I asked, already hard for her again.

“What?” she asked, a devilish gleam in her eyes. She knew where I was taking things.

“If you climbed on my lap and I had my cock inside you.”

“That would make the crackers taste better?” she asked, feigning innocent curiosity while climbing onto my lap.

“You’re going to love it.” I wrapped her legs around my waist, then positioned the crown of my cock at her entrance. She looked into my eyes as she sank down, taking me into her yet again. She closed them, tilting her chin up, gasping as I stretched her.

“You sore?” I asked, grasping her hips, angling her just right for a long, slow thrust. I had worked her hard for the past couple of hours.

“Yes,” she groaned in pleasure. She didn’t want me to stop.

“You’re so tight.” I drove up into her again, the perfect fit. If she weren’t so wet it might be hard to enter her fully, but she dripped for me, so sweet and juicy and turned on. It made it easy to plunge right in.

And there was the crème fraiche sitting next to us in a container. I wasn’t not going to spread it on her breasts and lick it off, slowly, savoring every moan. I seemed unable to stop smearing food on her, honey, coconut milk, crème fraiche. She was like a perfect meal in herself, all honeyed, succulent sweetness. I felt like I could sustain myself on her and her alone for the rest of my life.

“Thank you for coming to visit me in New York,” I said, enjoying the long, slow ride she was taking on my cock.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she returned, breathless.

“Thank you for cooking me dinner.”

“Thank you for feeding me dinner.”

I kissed her, both of us smiling as we moved in a lazy rhythm. That was all well and good. But another idea came to me just then. She was so inspiring.

“Caroline,” I murmured in her ear, my hands gentle at her waist.

“Yes, Colt?” she asked, so sweet.

“There’s something I need to do now.”

“Yes?” she asked, breathless with anticipation.

“I need to fuck you like an animal.”

I pulled her off me and positioned her on her hands and knees before me. Grabbing onto her ass, I thrust into her pussy with a long, strong stroke. Pushing into her, ramming in fast, I fucked her hard. She groaned and tried to keep her ground, using a hand to steady herself against the cabinets.

“That too rough, baby?” I asked. I wanted to take her and fuck her senseless, but I’d already used her hard that night. It might be too much.

“Fuck me harder,” she ground out, wild.

“Yes.” I fisted her hair in my hand and rode her, my huge cock ramming into her slick pussy again and again. “Take it.” My balls slapped against her, and I felt her clench, her thighs contracting, the noises from her mouth now just grunts and pleas.

“You going to take my come?” I asked, thrusting deep inside her. As I exploded into her, flooding her with my come, she came full and hard around my cock, crying out, gasping and screaming my name.

“Caroline,” I groaned, then stretched out, lying by her side, pulling her on top of me. “Yes,” I murmured, stroking her hair, holding her cheek to my chest. I wanted her to hear my heartbeat, feel how much my blood boiled for her. Only her. My Caroline.

CHAPTER 18

Caroline

Waking up in Colt’s arms, I closed my eyes again so I could savor how good it felt. His smell, his warmth, the solid strength of his powerful arms and thighs. As crazy as it sounded, in the 10 days we’d been apart I hadn’t slept nearly as well in my bed as I had on a life raft in a cave on a deserted island with him.

He’d made me feel safe, and he’d kept me safe, hydrated and well-fed, warm inside and out. Now that I’d returned to civilization, I had a whole new perspective on how much danger we’d actually faced. I’d had to block all that out of my mind while we’d been in the middle of it. Too much th

inking about all the bad things that could go wrong while you were in the middle of a life-threatening emergency actually threatened your life even more.

I’d been so completely in the moment, no worrying about consequences, no “what does that mean?” complications plaguing my mind as Colt and I grew closer. I’d simply let myself feel, let instinct govern my behavior. And I’d never felt so happy in all my life.

It could be like that again, I told myself as I nestled into him in his giant bed, underneath sumptuous sheets that had to be a thread-count I hadn’t previously known existed. 20 gazillion. I’d been psyching myself out over the past week and a half, worrying far too much about all of the differences between us in real life.

My family and friends hated him, openly talked about him as The Bad Guy. To them, he was a one percenter, the epitome of a Wall Street tycoon who’d robbed the little guy blind. The protest of his construction site—which, by the way, I had started—was still up and running strong. Construction had halted in our absence, but it hadn’t stopped. The grounds for the proposed site of the resort’s main building were still cordoned off with barbed wire. Giant excavators still sat poised and ready, their metal claws awaiting the command to dig the foundation.

And even when we spoke on the phone, even when I could hear the emotion in his voice, that he sincerely missed me, too, I couldn’t help always being struck by the contrast between our lives. I’d get up and bake scones in my faulty little banged up old oven, in my tiny shop where the roof leaked and the fog seeped through the cracks, peeling paint and flooring, giving the place a kind of weathered, shabby seaside feel no matter how much I scrubbed. I chit-chatted with patrons, none of them in a particular hurry. Most afternoons I’d go for a seaside walk, maybe taking a few minutes to sit and look out over the ocean. Especially lately, when my thoughts always turned back to my time stuck in the middle of it.

Colt hurtled through his day at easily five times the pace. Even when he caught a second to talk to me he’d usually be surrounded by other people, waiting for an associate at a restaurant, grabbing an Uber with a colleague or two to shuttle him between meetings. He’d break away from our conversation, apologizing with a “this will only take a minute,” and I’d hear him bark orders like a Drill Sergeant addressing his platoon. He spoke a foreign business language using terms I’d never heard of like framing, arbitration, accumulated cost recovery and DCR.