Colson

Borrowed, But Not Regretted

Amaris(past) POV

His eyes held mine. Bright red with that ancient, predatory gold flecks. There was no hint of a question there, no polite hesitation. Just a dark, wicked amusement and a hunger so deep it felt like gravity. Borrowed time, he’d said. He meant to spend every second of it.

“Colson—” I started, my voice a whisper.

“Shhh,” he murmured, the sound vibrating against my skin as he leaned in, his body caging me against the table. “Just feel.”

His mouth found my neck first, not at the pulse point where a vampire might feed, but just below my ear. His lips were soft, a shocking contrast to the hard lines of him. Then his tongue traced a slow, wet line down the column of my throat, and a shudder tore through me so violently my fingers scrabbled against his shoulders, digging into the fine wool of his coat.

He chuckled, a low, rough sound. “See? You’re already thinking too much.”

He kissed me then, properly, and all coherent thought dissolved. It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming. His tongue swept into my mouth, hot and demanding, tasting of expensive liquor and dark promises. One of his hands slid from my waist to my thigh, his fingers curling under the hem of my skirt, pushing the fabric up in a slow, deliberate crawl.

Cool air kissed my skin, followed by the scalding heat of his palm sliding up my outer thigh. I gasped into his mouth, arching against him. The friction of my cotton underwear against the wood, the hard press of his body between my legs—it was too much and not enough. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him closer, needing the pressure.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged against my lips. “There she is,” he whispered, his voice thick with approval. His hand slid higher, over my hip, my stomach, until his thumb brushed the underside of my breast through my blouse. My n****e hardened instantly, a tight, aching peak begging for attention.

“You’re overdressed for this,” he said, his fingers making quick work of the buttons on my blouse. He didn’t tear them, his movements were deft, practiced, but there was an urgency in them that made my heart hammer. The fabric fell open, and his gaze dropped, his eyes darkening.

He didn’t touch me right away. He just looked, his expression one of pure, reverent hunger. Then he bent his head and took one tight peak into his mouth, through the lace of my bra.

The sensation was electric. The wet heat of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his teeth, the suction that pulled a deep, needy moan from my chest. My head fell back, my hands tangling in his dark hair, holding him to me. He lavished attention on one breast, then the other, his free hand tugging the cup down to give him better access, his tongue swirling and teasing until I was writhing.

His hand left my breast, trailed down my stomach, over my hip, and finally, finally slid between my legs. He cupped me through my underwear, and a broken sound escaped me. I was already soaked, the thin cotton damp and clinging.

“f**k, Amaris,” he groaned, rubbing his palm against me in a slow, circular motion that had my hips bucking off the table.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my underwear and panties together and pulled them down my legs in one smooth motion, tossing them aside to join the chaos on the floor. The cool air on my bare skin was a shock, followed immediately by the overwhelming heat of his gaze. He stepped back, just for a moment, his eyes raking over my naked body splayed on his makeshift altar. The intensity of it was almost as potent as a touch.

Then he was on me again, his body covering mine, one knee nudging my legs wider. The rough fabric of his trousers rubbed against my inner thighs. He kissed me deeply, swallowing my moans as his fingers found my core.

One finger slid into me, deep and sure. I cried out, my back bowing. He was relentless, curling that finger, finding a spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. Then a second finger joined, stretching me, filling me, his thumb circling my c**t with just the right amount of pressure.

“Colson, I can’t— I’m going to—” My words were a shattered mess.

“I know,” he growled against my lips. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

His rhythm was merciless, his thumb working tight, fast circles. The coil inside me, wound so tight for so long, snapped. Pleasure detonated, rushing out from my core in wave after crashing wave. I convulsed around his fingers, a raw, loud cry tearing from my throat as I clenched the edge of the table, my vision whiting out.

He held me through it, his fingers working me gently until the last tremor subsided, his lips pressed to my sweaty temple.

Before I could even catch my breath, I heard the rasp of his zipper. I forced my eyes open. He was freeing himself, his length springing free, thick and flushed and impressive. A fresh jolt of desire, hot and liquid, pulsed through my spent body. I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his shaft, feeling the velvety skin over the rigid steel beneath. He hissed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second.

“No more waiting,” he breathed, his voice strained.

He nudged my thighs wider, the blunt head of his c**k pressing against my entrance, still slick and sensitive from my climax. He looked into my eyes, holding my gaze as he began to push inside.

It was a slow, inexorable invasion. The stretch was immense, breathtaking. I was so full, so complete. He seated himself to the hilt, and we both groaned in unison, a single, shattered sound of satisfaction. He held there, buried deep, letting me adjust, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling.

“Okay?” he whispered, his body trembling with the effort of his control.

“More,” I begged, the word a plea.

He moved.

Withdrawing almost completely, then driving back in with a force that shoved me up the table. It was a deep, punishing rhythm that stole the air from my lungs. Each thrust hit that perfect, deep place inside me, sparking fresh tendrils of pleasure. The table rocked beneath us, a steady, rhythmic thud against the floorboards.

His mouth was everywhere—my lips, my neck, my collarbone. He bit down gently on my shoulder, not breaking skin, but the promise of it, the vampire’s claim, sent another violent shudder through me.

“You feel… incredible,” he grunted, his pace increasing. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers sure to leave bruises, holding me in place for his relentless onslaught. “Tight and hot and perfect. Mine.”

The possessive word shouldn’t have thrilled me. It did. It sent a new, dizzying spike of arousal straight to my core. I met every thrust, my nails scoring down his back through his shirt. The coil was winding tight again, impossibly fast, building on the lingering echoes of my first climax.

“I’m close,” I panted, my voice raw. “Colson, please—”

“Look at me,” he commanded, his movements becoming harder, faster, losing their finesse in the pursuit of pure sensation.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his wild, red gaze. The connection was devastating. I saw my own ecstasy reflected there, mixed with his dark humor and a depth of feeling that stole my breath. That look, more than anything, pushed me over the edge.

My second climax ripped through me, a tidal wave that drowned out everything but the feeling of him pounding into me, his name a scream on my lips. My inner muscles clenched around him, milking him, and with a raw, guttural shout, he followed me over. His hips stuttered, his thrusts turning shallow as he spilled himself deep inside me, his body collapsing over mine, shuddering with the force of his release.

We lay there, a tangled, sweaty, breathless heap on the ruined table. The only sounds were our ragged breathing and the slow drip of something—ink, maybe, or spilled liquor—onto the floor. His weight was a comfort, his heartbeat a frantic drum against my chest, out of sync with my own.

Slowly, he pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at me. His hair was mussed, his lips swollen, his eyes still dark with satiated hunger. A slow, utterly smug smile spread across his face.

“Told you it was therapeutic,” he said, his voice a husky rasp.

I was about to retort, to call him insufferable, when a sharp, metallic click echoed in the sudden quiet.

We both froze.

It came from the door.