Branded as Trouble (21 page)

“Colt—”

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“Loosen up, sugar.” He swirled the end of the vibrator around her opening in the same manner as his tongue circled her clit. Three things happened simultaneously: he slid the vibrator into her pussy, he sucked on her clit and he tugged on the scarf.

India screamed.

Never had all her erogenous zones been targeted simultaneously. Her body was electrified, merely a conduit for sexual pleasure.

And Colt overwhelmed her with it. He fucked her with the vibrator, pressing the phallus against her pubic bone inside as he suckled her clit, then he’d slowly drag it out again.

The intense stimulation had her grinding her sex into Colt’s face. He emitted a growling noise and continued driving her to the brink with his lips and tongue. She thrashed as much as the bonds would allow, the fabric burned her wrists and ankles, the sheets abraded her spine, but she didn’t care.

Especially not when her orgasm broke free, reverberating in one long wave, as if every neuron in her brain sent a message to her body to tingle, explode and throb in unison.

She was so bowled over she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She finally knew what the French meant when they called an orgasm a little death—she’d briefly experienced heaven.

When the rhythmic pulses in her clit slowed, the vibrator disappeared.

“Look at me.”

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India opened her eyes to see Colt’s cheeks were flushed, his lips glistened with her juices and his eyes were heavy-lidded with desire.

He ripped the scarves from her ankles, hiked her hips up, pressing the backs of her thighs to his chest. Aligning his cock to her pussy, he plunged in, his fingers tightened on her ass as he fucked her with abandon. “Jesus, you’re wet.”

“You have that effect on me.”

“Yeah? Your effect on me is I’m ready to blow.”

And he did, almost immediately. He was mesmerizing lost in his climax. She watched him, humbled by all this man freely gave to her—in bed and out.

He untied her arms and legs and carefully unthreaded the scarf from the nipple rings. Rather than bringing her into his arms, Colt laid his head on her chest.

India ran her fingers through his damp hair. “You okay?”

“Never been better.”

She smiled. “Will you stay over?”

“I’d like to, but I can’t because I have to be up early.”

No bullshit excuses, just the truth.

“Too bad. I was gonna bake caramel rolls for breakfast.”

He snorted. “You don’t cook.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Why should it?”

“I don’t know. I’m not good at the sorts of things women around here are good at.”

“Such as?”

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“Ranch stuff.”
Wife stuff
.

Stop that, India.

“Don’t matter. You’re good at all sorts of other things.”

“But I wanna learn…”

“What?”

“The normal stuff,” she blurted. “Will you teach me?”

“Be my pleasure.” Colt kissed the tip of her breast and then her mouth and hopped up.

India watched him get dressed.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Ladies’ choice, remember?”

“I’ve already decided what we’re gonna do.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Two-step.”

“I’m hopin’ that’s a sex position we haven’t tried.”

“No. This is the normal stuff I’m talking about. I want you to teach me how to cowboy dance. In private, where no one can see my two left feet and my inability to keep time.”

Colt’s eyes searched hers. “Why do you wanna learn to dance?”

“Don’t you love to dance?”

“Well, yeah, but that don’t mean I expect you to take it up just to please me.”

“And if I want to please you, Colt? What then?”

“Indy—”

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Lorelei James

“Forget it. Stupid idea.” She peered at her fingers gripping the edge of the sheet, feeling the sting of embarrassment. She never should have suggested—

He tipped her chin up. “If you really wanna learn, I’d be honored to teach you.” His thumb swept over her bottom lip. “You constantly surprise me, India Ellison. Goddamn. You have no idea how much I—” He kissed her with such emotion she felt a lump rising in her throat.

“Sleep,” he said gruffly and left her staring after him.

Three days later, Colt laid on his back staring at the wispy fabric draped above India’s bed. While relaxed from a round of fast and fun sex, and content to just be around India, naked or not, he was tired of looking at the back of his eyelids. He sighed.

“Stop sighing like a teenage girl.”

“Are you done yet?”

“No.”

“Can I move now?”

“No.”

“I just wanna peek at what you’re doin’.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Dammit, Colt, sit still.”

“I hope you’re drawin’ me with a really big dick.”

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India peeked over the edge of the sketchpad at him. “You don’t need me to embellish that appendage, McKay.”

Colt grinned. “Now who’s the sweet talker?”

“Besides, this isn’t a nude. You just happen to be nude as I’m sketching. Now, stop interrupting my artistic flow.”

“Fine.” About thirty seconds later, he said, “Who’s gonna see this picture anyway? Because I don’t want it hanging in your tattoo shop.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep it away from the slavering masses of women who trail after you like lovesick puppies.”

“Only woman I want slavering and trailing after me, all lovesick, is you, sugar.”

No response.
Scritch scratch
.
Scritch scratch. Scritch scratch.

“This secretiveness ain’t givin’ me warm fuzzies about what you’re drawin’.”

“I’m not exactly the warm fuzzy type, Colt. Neither are you.”

“I know, which is another reason you need to show me because I wanna make sure you’re not drawin’ devil horns on me. I don’t know why you’re doin’ this.”

She looked at him again, a bit curiously. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to freak out.”

“No dice. I will freak out if the reason is embarrassing or lame.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He didn’t answer.

India closed her eyes and sagged back into the pillows, clutching the sketchpad to her chest. A minute or so passed.

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“Indy?”

“The real reason is…you’re beautiful. Men aren’t supposed to be, but you are.” Her eyes opened and she stared at him with an intensity that fired his blood. “Your face, your body. God. Every single inch of you is…perfection. Sometimes the light hits you just so and it takes my breath away. I can’t believe you’re…”

“What?”

“Here. With me.”

Talk about taking his breath away. Colt rolled to his knees.

“There’s no place I’d rather be.”

“Do you ever wonder…if we’ve wasted time not being together like this, before this?”

“No. We can’t go back. Any time I spent with you, as your friend wasn’t wasted time. Our friendship is what got us to this point. And it’s what’ll get us to the next point.”

“The next point? What’s that?”

Marriage. Babies. Happily ever after
. One week into dating and India wasn’t ready to hear that yet, so he kept it light. “Where you show up naked at my house ready to do my bidding.”

“Maybe you’ll rethink that statement when you see what I’ve drawn.” India watched him as he crawled toward her. With each inch he edged closer, she hugged the sketchbook tighter.

“Lemme look at the picture, Picasso.”

“No way.”

“I want to see how you see me.”

“No.”

“Please? With caramel on top?”

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She shook her head. “Back off.”

“Huh-uh. Don’t make me tickle you to get what I want.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Don’t dare me. I rock at double-dog and triple-dog dares and don’t get me started on truth or dare. Plus, I know all your ticklish spots. Hand it over.”

“Come and get it, McKay.” She attempted to roll off the bed.

His hand circled her ankle and he tugged her back on the mattress.

India shrieked and tried to wrench free, which only increased his determination.

Colt attacked her feet. She yelped and swatted at him with the sketchbook. He snatched it from her with one hand. “Hah!”

“Hey! Gimme that back, it’s mine.”

“In a sec. I just wanna look.” He studied it before his eyes met hers. He flipped the page back to her, jabbing his finger at the twin images. “You really see me this way? With turquoise stars and orange and purple flames tattooed around my pierced nipples?”

She giggled. “Gotcha. You really thought I was drawing nudie pics of you, huh?”

“You little tease.” He threw the notebook over the side of the bed and tickled her until she screamed.

The touches turned from playful to passionate. And then he was inside her, face-to-face, skin-to-skin, heart-to-heart. The more time he spent with her, the more amazed he was by her. By everything they were when they were together.

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India curled her fingers around his neck. “I wasn’t kidding, earlier. You are so beautiful, Colt McKay. Beautiful inside and out.”

“Same goes, India. Same goes.” He kissed her and the world fell away.

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Colt hated cleaning the garage. So, when a sultry, “Hey, cowboy,” drifted through the open garage door, he thought he might’ve been hearing things.

“India?” Colt’s gloved fingers tightened around the shovel handle.

“In the flesh, baby.” Pause. “Literally.”

“What’re you doin’ here? It’s the middle of the day.”

“The tattoo biz is dead and my sister is running the store. So I thought to myself, I wonder what my big, sexy cowboy is doing.”

Her footsteps echoed as loud as the sudden thumping of his heart.

“Since I’m not busy, I thought I’d come out and see if I can help you. I even have my cowgirl boots on.”

Colt turned around so fast he almost got whiplash.

Holy hell. Cowgirl boots were the
only
thing India had on.

The shovel in his hand clanked to the concrete floor.

“Sadly, I don’t own any other western wear.”

“I’m not complaining.” Colt’s gaze slowly tracked her sexy body, from the pointed tips of her red nipples to the pointed toes of her red boots. His cock hardened. His mouth watered. “But I’m hopin’ you didn’t ride your motorcycle out here in that get-up.”

Lorelei James

“And if I did?”

“Cam’ll have to arrest me.”

“Why?”

“For killin’ every man who laid eyes on you undressed like that.”

Satisfaction glinted in her eyes. “A little proprietary, aren’t you?”

“If that means you’re mine, only mine, then hell yes.”

“I am yours, Colt.”

His eyes ate her up with a hunger that bordered on obsessive.

“Prove it.”

“How?”

Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed a horse blanket from the pile on the workbench. He tossed it on the concrete in front of him. Then he began to unbuckle his belt. “You’d better be over here, on your knees, ready to suck my cock by the time this zipper is down.”

She hit the ground like she was sliding bases.

“That’s good.” Colt peeled his jeans down his thighs and his blood-engorged cock slapped his belly. “Like what you see?”

“Mmm-hmm.” India licked her lips.

He circled the tip of his cock around her mouth. “Open. Take it all.”

Her lips parted and she swallowed in a drawn out tease.

“The rest of this ain’t gonna be your pace, it’s gonna be mine.

Fast and hard, Indy. That’s how I’m gonna fuck your sweet, perfect mouth.”

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Her moan vibrated up his shaft.

Colt threaded his fingers through her hair for a decent grip. He pulled out and eased back in. Three, four, five slow thrusts. Once his shaft was coated with her saliva, he increased the pace.

She’d closed her eyes and kept her neck arched at an angle where she could take him deep.

It was a fucking turn on to watch her. How sexy it was as his cock disappeared between her red lips. How her fingertips dug into his thighs with enough force to leave half-moon shaped marks. How the wetness from her mouth freely ran down her chin and neck. He loved the raw power she had over him in her submission. The occasional scrape of her teeth. The teasing flicker of her tongue.

It was too much. Too good. Despite the cool temperature of the day and the garage, sweat beaded on his forehead and his whole body burned hot.

When his balls contracted, he shortened his strokes and increased the grasp on her head.

“I’m there. Right…now. Oh hell, suck. Suck hard. Suck it all.

Ah. Jesus. Your mouth is so wet and tight…fuck!”

India held him upright as he came. And came. And when his cock was empty, she licked his softening shaft and nuzzled his balls, bringing him down from the sex high with tenderness.

He looked down at her and touched her cheek. “That was awesome. And I love your obedience. Love it so much, in fact, that I’m gonna return the favor.”

She lifted both pierced brows. “Meaning I get to demand your obedience?”

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“No. Meanin’ I’m gonna grab some ropes and see how long you can keep it up.”

Thursday night, the loud click of India’s bedroom door opening echoed in her room. The mattress dipped. “India? You awake?”

“I am now.”

“You probably weren’t even sleepin’, Little Miz Troublemaker,” Colt drawled. “I can’t believe you left a message on my cell phone callin’ me a dickhead.”