I let out a frustrated growl, and Colt chuckles, pulling back from the kiss, his eyes flitting all around my face. “Is there something you need?”
I glare at him. “I need you to take off your damn pants.”
There goes his eyebrow again, arching high above his left eye. “Is that so?”
I nod.
“And what about your pants?”
I huff out a sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. “So if you take something off, I have to as well? Is that the deal?” Not that I actually object to that, because yes, I definitely want my pants off too. How else am I going to get what I need?
He lifts one sculpted shoulder in a shrug. “Seems only fair.”
“And you’re all about fairness.”
“Well …” he draws out like he’s about to settle into a philosophical debate on the subject of fairness, “that is largely the basis of our relationship, isn’t it? I scratch your back and you scratch mine?”
A laugh bubbles out of me, and he grins. “Is that what this is? A mutual scratching of backs?”
Another shrug, that grin still firmly in place. “I think I’d prefer a different itch to be scratched if I got to pick, but sure, I’ll scratch your back for you if you want. But if you want my pants off, yours have to come off too.”
“Deal.”
His eyes widen as I climb off his lap and start undoing the button and zipper on my jeans. I pause midway through shimmying them down my hips and give him a flat stare. “Why am I the only one undressing?”
That’s enough to get him moving. His fingers immediately go to his belt and start sliding the supple leather free so he can get to the button and fly. “Sorry,” he mutters. “You have no idea how distracting you can be.”
I chuckle. “I think I might have some idea, given you’ve been prancing around here mostly naked for weeks.”
He lets out a bark of laughter, but doesn’t stop undressing, lifting his hips and shoving his jeans down his thighs. “I’ve been prancing around? What about you?”
I’m too distracted to answer with the way his dick is outlined in his gray boxer briefs, straining to get free. The fabric is stretchy and doesn’t do as good of a job holding it against his body now that the restrictive denim is gone.
After yanking my feet out of my skinny jeans, I step closer, my eyes never leaving his dick until I can’t see it anymore because I’ve settled right over the top of it.
Colt lets out a sigh, his hands on my hips pulling me down as he presses that ridge up against me right where I want it. Well, almost. But this is much better, that’s for sure.
With my hands braced on his shoulders, I rock forward, causing him to hiss, his head dropping back. “Don’t stop,” he whispers, like that’s even a possibility.
I grind on him, riding the ridge of his dick, experimenting with different angles and different amounts of pressure.
Each time I change, Colt lets out another sound—a whimper, a groan, a strangled growl—his abs flexing and rippling as they contract and relax along with me.
“I think I hate wearing underwear,” Colt mutters after a few minutes.
Stopping, I grin. His fingers tighten on my hips, trying to get me to move again, but I resist. For now. “Honestly, I was surprised you’re wearing any. You usually don’t.”
He opens his eyes, dark with lust. “Jeans aren’t soft enough for that. And with you around, there’s a strong chance of getting a hard-on, and pressing up against the back side of a zipper? No thank you. I need a layer of protection.”
“Speaking of protection …”
His dick twitches beneath me, but he gives me a wary look tinged with hope. “What about it?”
I trail a finger down his chest, watching its progress. “Do you have any?”
He swallows audibly. “Uh, maybe?”
My eyes find his, my eyebrows arching in surprise. “You’re not sure?”
With a groan, he covers his face with his hands. “When I moved, I grabbed the last of a box in a fit of optimism. But it’s possible they’re expired.”
Flattening my hand, I move it across his pec, brushing over his flat nipple with my fingers, making him flinch.
One of his hands comes down and traps mine against his chest, the fine dusting of hair springy under my palm.
“How possible?”
He cracks open one eye and licks his lips, his dick twitching underneath me again. “Should I go check?” he asks in a voice husky with hope and desire.
I nod. “Yes,” I whisper, wanting to verbalize it so there’s no room for misunderstanding. “Go check. I want you inside me.”
Colt grasps both of my hands and places them behind his neck, then moves his hands to my ass. “Hang on,” he says, my only warning before he stands.
With a squeak of surprise, I reflexively clamp my limbs around him, and he lets out that low chuckle that never fails to send skitters of arousal dancing across my skin. I bury my face in his neck, as much to keep my head out of the way so he can see as to exact a tiny bit of revenge. Pressing my lips against his skin, I dart out my tongue for a taste, getting a hit of salt and skin and Colt. He shivers beneath me before dumping me on the bed.
“Hey!” I protest, but he just tosses a grin over his shoulder before digging through the drawer where he keeps his socks and underwear.
He comes up with a strip of three condoms and flips them over to check the date, then holds them over his head with a crow of triumph. “Still good.”
Propping myself up on my elbows, I grin at him. “I’m not sure what it says about you that you keep condoms around long enough that they might be expired before you use them.”
Completely unashamed, he steps closer to the bed, catching
