BUFF (27 page)

“My lead?” He pulls her closer with a rough movement that almost makes her fumble over her feet. “I don't want this."

“But you don't want me, right? All of me, that is,” she dares, a tear pooling under her eye. “Just what you think is fitting. Well I can't do this, Colt. I can't do that. This is hard enough as it is. I can't deny you. I'm not a robot, okay? I'm not
you
.” Her mouth clamps shut but she’s already too late. Her words have done their damage.

He lets go of her but doesn’t move away like she thinks he will. Instead he comes closer, so close, his breathing, hot and trembling, pierce the flesh of her ear as he whispers darkly and lowly, “You think I don't want you. You think that every time I don't see, smell, or touch you…” His eyes close, his breathing grows shakier. “…that I don't want to have you right there… That you've fucked me up so bad inside I can’t do anything—anything!” he roars, “without feeling you."

They’re both shaking now, both frozen in place, aroused and hungry and neither willing to move to stop or start anything. Colt's head draws back, his woody musk scent invading her as he breaks only far enough to really look at her.

His hand rises and she yearns for the contact, feeling gravity pull her to him—but she fights it, flinches away and manages to avoid the slow travel of his hand that aches for just a graze of skin.

“No."

“No?” He comes closer, disregarding her.

“No, Colt. I want all of you."

“I'm trying to protect you."

“You're being a coward! You're scared, Colt. Afraid to get close to someone.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “Maybe you’re right,” she says, her voice soft. “Maybe this isn't supposed to happen at all.” She finally walks past him. This time, he lets her walk away. “It shouldn't be this hard," she murmurs.

She heads straight to her bedroom, takes off her jeans and collapses on the bed. Tears burn under her closed eyelids. She wants to sleep, stop thinking, cause the demons to relent a little before everything starts all over again. But her mind won’t let her. Every time she starts to slip into some sort of semi-sleep, Colt, his face, his eyes specifically, stare back at her in her mind, cold and remorseless, hurt and stung from her rejection. He always acts like he doesn’t care about anything, but there is something inside her that tells her she is wrong.

So wrong.

She had been wrong about Colt from the very beginning. Especially about who he is.

Colt isn’t just some heartless murderer; some cold, hard, living, breathing statue that eats and drinks death. He has a heart. She’s seen it. Seen his warmth, the way he cares for her, risks his life for her, again and again. He’s shown her more tenderness than she ever thought is humanly possible. Colt is so much, so many things, just trying to figure out what he means to her overwhelms her.

Because… Becky's eyes open, her breath stalls as realization takes over—

A muffled noise comes from the door making her body shudder. And she knows, right then and there, that she is in love with him. Madly. Deeply.

In love with Colt Lawson.

“Becky."

Leaping up the covers fall from her, loose strands of hair blocking her vision. She can barely make out the dark figure that steps into the doorway and closes the door behind in one agonizingly, slow, move.

“I can’t stay away,” he says.

“Colt,” she replies, out of breath.

The lock clicks.

His eyes, neon blue, lock on her as he walks to the foot of the bed and opens his mouth to speak, but the room remains empty, except for the pulsing throb of awareness that kicks up between them.

And when he finally does talk he sounds like a man who fights a great battle, who is weary with defeat and who wants more than anything to surrender to the need that plunders him. “I can't fight this anymore,” he whispers between them, soft and deep, as though famished by the sight of her. He licks his lips. "I don't want to.” His face along with his stare, darken, like the blackest of midnights. “Unless you turn me way… Do you want to turn me away, Becky?"

*     *     *

HE CAN HEAR HIS OWN HEARTBEAT THUMP
as the knock on the door breaks him from his frame of mind. He has to be focused. Stay on track. Or he’s going to slip up.

And Vladimir Kulich never shows any mercy. Never.

“Come in,” Kulich says. “The door's unlocked."

Roman and Luis enter, shoulder to shoulder. You can cut the tension in the air with a knife.

Something feels… odd.

“Luis, sit,” Kulich orders. He waves a hand to the empty couch at his left before standing and fixing the unseen crinkles of his tailor-made shirt and pants. “Roman, good work.” Kulich’s grin make the hairs on his arms stand up.

Luis sits on the edge of the seat, his stare darts between the two men at both sides. Sweat breaks out on the top of his forehead. He can feel it slide down his back and over the slope of his palms. In the past thirty seconds he’s been pinching the inside of his knee not to crack. Something is definitely wrong. Something bad.

“So, uh… Boss,” Roman says, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “you want me to stay or go?"

Kulich smiles like the Devil himself has take possession of him. Roman smiles back, a twinkle in his eyes, like he’s feeding on something good and tasty. Shaking his head, Kulich snickers like Roman has just told a racy joke. Kulich pulls something from the back of his pants.

Neither Luis or Roman see the gun before it’s too late.

The cold metal device aims and points at the large man opposite Luis.

Luis watches the look of crippling fear bunch Roman’s features together as their boss says, “No. I want you to go. But thanks for asking,” and then he pulls the trigger.

The man's head goes back as the bullet hits him right between the eyes, his body jerks as it follows lead, like a wave in slow motion, falling in a loud
thud
on the cold shiny floor.

Kulich’s black eyes zero in on the dead man. Luis places a hand on his mouth and muffles, “Holy... fuck..."

Turning, Kulich scratches the side of his jaw with the nose of his gun, licking his lips as he takes in Luis's reaction, his own marinating with an oddly menacing look of pleasure the longer he watches Luis squirm and twitch in fear.

Kulich saunters toward the couch, bends forward when he reaches Luis cowering under him, and his eyes bulge and glue to the bleach-blonde guard whose brains are leaking out on the floor not five-feet away.

Kulich, patting Luis's shoulder a couple of times, finally grips a painful hold on him like a claw. It makes Luis flinch as another cry tears from his mouth.

“Now. I think its time we discuss what really happened with the Appletons. I have a feeling this time you're gonna be a lot more talkative.”

RAIN HASN’T MOVED.

Becky hasn’t breathed since he entered.

The click of the lock plays, again and again, in her ear, like a residual echo that traps her bones and muscles in place. How can one sound defy her will, take over her control and make her dizzy with the possibilities of what will come next?

“Becky... want me to leave?"

“What I want…”

The message sparks inside her tummy. She darts him a look with one eye, the other shelters under the veil of hair that has loosened and released itself from his surprised presence.

Caged, ready to break, to plunder—all of him lays before her. He looks like he’s on the brink of some madness. His face, the crystallized emotion that unfurls before her, tugs at her with the force of an unnaturally strong pull.

Something neither of them can see, neither can explain.

She crawls forward, pushing the comforter off her in slow, measuring steps. It makes his black stare ignite. Taunting the thin hold that keeps him at bay, Becky feels the surge of power fall over her.

On her knees she moves to the end of the bed, hesitant, but also short on breath and high on feeling. Her tiny transparent undershirt rides high on her breasts and she pulls it down, already feeling stripped when his eyes slit in primal fury at the milky exposure of skin and more enraged by her instinct to hide any part of her from him.

They are eye level now. The blast of awareness has her knees buckling, but she won’t move. She doesn’t think he'll allow her one step, one inch from his closeness after letting herself so near.

She licks her lips in slow motion like her mouth has been pricked with Novocain from the sting of his glare. It is all she can sense. Him. Numb and tingly.

“Colt… I thought—"

“You’re it for me, Becky.” There is a thickness in his voice she has never heard before. Tears, emotion, fear, longing—all rolls into one big bubble that’s about ready to explode from inside her. He slides closer, one small inch, and they are nose to nose. His breathing is uneven, harsh. “My everything."

His head bends closer then drifts back to really give her an intense look, trying to cut off the current that flows between them. “You, Becky. Only you."

His declaration—she feels it right in her bones.

Her hand comes up but he stops it, pinning her wrist in the air with his fingers around it. Gone are the small drops of lightness from his stare, like peeks of sunlight through clouds. They evaporate, vanquish by the penetrating severity of his need.

His voice teeters over the edge, from soft and low to a ripping snarl, suddenly turning on a dime, but it only pushes the excitement quivering under her flimsy undershirt. “Don't play with me, Little Bit,” he threatens, softly, jerking her closer. Her chest bumps his followed by their lips hitting then parting from the sizzling buzz. “Don’t make me punish you.”

Her nipples strain hard against her shirt. “Colt...” She feels her flesh rise above her, the sensation paints over her. She rushes out before she thinks she’ll break, waiting only for his eyes to land on hers. She swallows, breathing out, “I want all of you."

Their breathing mingles, both hitching as their silence and nearness turns them on. They close in on one another. Their mouths meet but neither of them move in for a kiss as they continue watching each another, engrossed in the heat. Waiting, wanting, holding back until they think they'll crack from the pressure building.

Colt bites down, his jaw flexes and shows off the sharpness of his features as he swallows. His mouth opens in a silent call as his eyes violate every inch of flesh on her mouth.

“Becky—”

Next thing her hands fist in his hair, his in hers, their faces collide and their lips gulp down one another, the air splitting as they meet and greedily take and give from one another. Their heads twist and turn, from side to side, fiercely, almost savage like. They both seem ready to break the other in two. Her arms loop around his neck, only to deepen the closeness, delve into his mouth and get so wrapped up in him, everything else slips away, never to be found again.

Gripping her lower back, Colt's hand claws her closer, making her undershirt shirt rise and bunch in his fist as he presses her against him and makes her mouth widen as her legs part.

His tongue is on hers in one instant, mating her, coaxing her to catch up to his possessed rhythm. And he takes and he takes, the tip of his tongue riding on a hot deep wave that hints right before the body of his tongue gyrates against hers. Continuing with the kiss he slips two fingers inside her panties, rubbing and rolling her sensitive nubbin, pillaging every inch of the soft pink flesh.

Pulling back from the kiss he watches her, stroking her clit, softly, deathly slow, baiting her with his movements that break her in tormenting inches, traveling down her slippery vulvar and spreading everywhere at once. His other hand finds her hips, leading her forward as his breathing trembles against her open lovingly abused mouth.

“Move.” He sounds so desperate, dangling at the breaking point of some abyss only she can save him from.

She’s nearing on the crazy with this man.

Drowning into the fire of him, Becky doesn’t think she can stand one more second. She has to have him inside her. Has to feel his thick pulsing cock thrust deep inside or she will go insane, die even.

Her head hits the pillow and he shifts her undershirt up, his fingers never ceasing to rub her nubbin, leaning his full weight into her, against her hard aching nipples.

“Christ, babe, you’re so wet for me.” He licks around one of her tips, teasing her wildly as he gently slips two fingers into her tunnel, forward and back. Stop and pause. Stop and pause. He doesn’t relent, keeping his full body on her. “God, you make me so fucking hard… I want you so bad.”

“Oh God...” She moans, wrapping her legs around him high, her heels at the base of his naked back. Her body flows instantly with his, not missing a step as their pelvises swerve up and down. The unhurried tempo picks up, escalates. She feels so hot under him, the lips of her sex ready to erupt.

Her head falls back, ready for her world to explode—but Colt growls, “Wait.”

He pulls his fingers out, hears her moan of protest and kisses her lips sensually slow, breaking just the little that is necessary to hook his finger around her white cotton panties. He leans back, enough for her to wiggle the small fabric down.

His attention is back on her even before he’s thrown the garment across the room. He kisses her lips again, this time keeping his eyes open. His stare flames a silent message, tells her a story of what he demands, what she is going to feel. Her eyes stay open, feeling the stark nakedness of the moment and how it connects them.

The darkness of the room encloses around the bed, absorbing all the color. The pigment of his eyes is gone, just black unashamed thundering desire spreading through him. His feelings for her penetrating in his stare. Without fully letting go he uses one hand to slide his jeans down, then his tight black boxer briefs.

Becky doesn’t have time to be nervous or to feel even a glimpse of self-consciousness. He is kissing her again, without inhibition, with a hunger that rattles her nerves into a crazed frenzy, making them stomp across the ends of each muscle, each bone, solidifying her in place. Her head sinks into the pillow as he devours her, emptying his starved attention for her, on her mouth, wanting more the longer his mouth coerces and tames hers.

With his other hand he guides the wet tip of his engorged member near her entrance, circling the sensitive area with small advances, letting her know that he is there. Ready.

Her heels dig into his upper thigh as she whimpers against him, “Colt…” she murmurs, breathless, her lips tangled into his.

He pauses, rubs his upper lip over hers. The sterling color of blue descends for a second in his stare, illuminating his look, his movements, as he hovers over her.

“I'll go slow,” he promises, huskily. He sounds about ready to shatter.

“No.” She shakes, there are tears in her eyes. The agonizing note in her voice seems to harden his erection like a steel pipe. “Don't, please.” A tear falls from the corner of her eye and he immediately wipes it away, the tightness in her chest crushing her.

His lips whisper against hers, like a primitive nudge deepening his need to hear her beg. He pumps his cock against her, drawing the tip over and around her, goading for a reaction. “You want me to go slow?” he says, against her pining lips. “Becky?"

“Colt, please…” She is pulling at the back of his head. She doesn’t care if he’s in pain, all she understands is the relentless selfish crash of sensations that drive and stall over her. “Anyway you want me."

The ripping quality of her plea seems to snap his intent to stretch this out and all she sees is his face and all she feels is the scorching thickness of him as he plunges into her in one, long, swift movement.

Buried in her neck for a quick second the spasm of an orgasm almost overcomes her from her erupting clit, but he stills and sinks inside her, not moving…

“You feel so good, babe… so... pure...”

Colt, all of a sudden freezes. He looks at her like he’s a sinner who has just entered a holy site; desecrating something so beautiful and pure, something that’s never meant to be touched by his filthy, evil hands.

“Don't,” she whispers, her fingernails scraping the side of his jaw. “Whatever you're thinking—don't."

“I’m a selfish bastard, Becky... I don’t deserve you.” Becky squirms and rises under him. “But you drive me crazy,” he whispers, into the crook of her neck.

She is quiet but unstill as he kisses and sucks on the different spots of her neck. His body begins to rock in small smooth motions, so smooth like riding against a heated slope of liquid sensation. The synergy of his movements pulls at her, making her fall in timing with his pace.

This time Colt yanks at the ends of her hairs making her mouth come down to his, giving him a more dominant view of her. Their mouths fuse together, their bodies swinging like joint members of the same being following the beat their kisses create. The mass of sensation presses against every aching limb of her body, echoing and ricocheting off her skull like a bullet with no destination.

He breaks away from the private cocoon their faces and lips created and hovers over her, bringing one hand back and around her upper thigh, the other gripping the edge of the mattress right above her head. The slow sinuous action of his body gasps only to restart itself in frantic drills. He pistons in and out, unrelenting, pounding into her at just the right angle that his cock is brushing ever so slightly against her clit.

“Colt.” Her nails scratch at his chest. She’s blinded by the pleasure, her face twisting and reddening, her mouth opening and closing. His name comes from some place so undiscovered inside her. Her urgent call makes him wildly buck into her, plummeting in and out of her. She can feel her juices soaking him, the strength of his body staining her memory for life and her scream shreds the air around them.

Her body shakes violently under his, seizure-like, and he goes with her willingly. His face bulging and contorting, he uses the last of his strength to make her come one more time by gripping her ass and forcing her body to feel the full weight of his cock embedded in her as he drives into her like a mad man.

“Jesus fucking Christ, babe.”

He is coming; she can feel it, pulsating against her drenched channel. But he watches her as though too transfixed on watching her climax, like he’s addicted to the sight of her face and body as she shrinks and quivers below him.

He is a god who can wield her in any way he rules.

And she can only obey.

“Again,” he growls. “Come for me again.” It isn’t a request.

He catches the small flesh of her ear in between his teeth and delicately nips and strokes her with his tongue. He turns her to face him, sheltering her in between his large hands, drinking her in.

Colt makes her come two more times before he finally lets her rest. She can see, in his eyes, he wants, still needs… more.

I’ve fallen into a dream… This can’t be real. He can’t be real…

He withdraws his body from her and he starts to roll off her when she plants one hand on his chest. “Hey,” her smoky voice calls out, “where are you going?"

For the first time he seems shy, ready to give her the space she needs. “I was… you need to rest."

“You’re leaving me?"

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pats his hand on the other side of the bed. “Okay?"

“No."

“No?” His smile is lopsided.

She shakes her head, skimming his shoulder with her fingers then down his inked arm. “Don't leave me.” Her eyes are veiled by her sleep-induced state. “I want you here. Right here. You belong here. With me."

He kisses her forehead, sliding the covers that are under their bodies over them as gently as possible. Taking her into the warm space against his chest he wraps her small body in him, his large shoulders barricading around her, dwarfing her presence so she almost seems an extended part of him.

“Sleep,” he says.

Her heart turns over. Just knowing he is going to keep guard and watch over her all night, it makes her physically ache. Resting her head on his chest, with his arms holding her tight, she drifts deep into the darkness that awaits her.