been working together to put on a concert, and I’m pretty sure that’s the most fun I’ve had with music in …” He trails off, looking up at the ceiling, then looks at me again and shakes his head. “Maybe ever? This chick is amazing. She’s the whole package.”
A warm glow settles in my middle. “You seem pretty amazing yourself.”
He looks down at his hand on my breast again, giving my nipple one last brush of his thumb before moving away. “Thanks. I’ve been told I don’t have the best instincts for choosing songs that resonate with people, though.”
Sitting up, I go up on my knees and move closer to him, cupping his face in my hands and forcing him to meet my eyes. “You have brilliant instincts,” I tell him. “You just needed a nudge in the right direction. You were operating with out of date information and didn’t take what you learned with your brother and apply it correctly to yourself. You saw him capitalizing on your old success, which he absolutely did, but you missed how his new material played into that. Writing isn’t your strong point, which is fine, we all have different strengths. But your ear for what works and what doesn’t is excellent. Without you, those songs would’ve been maybe half as good. You helped me perfect and polish them. Not to mention you set the entire show in motion. Without you, tonight wouldn’t have been possible in a million years.”
His face turns serious as I talk, like he’s eating up my words, like no one’s ever told him he’s this smart, sexy, brilliant musician who could take the world by storm with a little help.
His arms wrap around me and his mouth covers mine, and all the anguish and euphoria and lust from the last hours, weeks, years get poured into that connection.
I wrap myself around him and give as good as I get, needing to get as close to him as possible, to make him feel as amazing as he makes me feel.
Soon I’m wiggling on his lap again, but it’s nowhere near enough. It never was, but now I need him. Need this connection.
Pulling back from the kiss, I meet his eyes again, dazed and glassy with lust. “Colt,” I whisper, “I need you inside me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Colt
Those words are all I need to hear. Gently, I lay her back on the bed, moving back to hook my fingers in those tiny, little peach colored panties and pull them off her slim beautiful legs. I catch one in my hand after her panties are gone and kiss the side of her calf, the inside of her knee, her inner thigh.
With her leg draped over my shoulder, I trace her puffy pink slit, dragging my fingers across her wetness. “So wet for me,” I murmur, and she lets out a soft sound of agreement, spreading her legs more, inviting me closer.
Leaning in, I thumb her open and get my first taste, the perfect blend of salty and sweet. She moans with pleasure as I swirl my tongue over her clit, but pushes on my shoulders with her legs. “I love that you’ll go down on me, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want you inside me. I promise we’ll have plenty of time for that later. But right now, I just need you.”
I’ve never had a woman beg for me like this before, like she might die if I don’t get inside her right now, and not just because she’s horny. The weight she puts on those words make them feel more significant, like this is more than just sex for her. And after the last few weeks, tonight’s performance, and the things she just said to me, I’d be lying if I said it was just sex for me either.
Standing, I get rid of my underwear and reach for a condom, tearing it open and forcing myself to remain calm so I don’t fumble the damn thing as I roll it on. Alexis is waiting, legs parted, eyes hooded, watching me and licking her lips like she can’t wait to get a taste of me either. But first, she needs me inside her. The rest of the exploration can wait for later. There’ll be plenty of time for that later, she said, meaning this isn’t just a one time thing.
Thank Christ, because it’s been torture enough being around her with just my own fantasies. Having memory to layer over that