Page 35 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

The cold tile bites into my skin, but I don’t give a fuck because his beautiful cock is inches from my face, throbbing and glistening with the slick evidence of what he just did to me. I can smell myself on him—that primal scent of my own arousal, mixed with the raw, masculine heat of his body.

My lips part, and I don’t hesitate to take him into my mouth—all of him. My tongue flattens against the underside of his shaft as I swallow him down to the base.

The sound of his moan vibrates through me.

His big hand fists into my hair, pulling me closer, encouraging me to take him even deeper.

I revel in the way his cock stretches my throat, the way it pulses against my tongue like it’s alive, like it’s fucking me from the inside out.

I can taste myself on him, that salty flavor that makes my pussy clench in memory of how he made me come, over and over, until I was a trembling, dripping mess beneath him.

I pull back slowly, my lips dragging along his length, sucking hard as I go, and then I plunge down again, taking him even deeper this time. His hips buck, and he lets out a curse, his voice rough, like sandpaper.

“Fuck, your mouth,” he whispers as his cock twitches against my tongue.

His balls tighten, and he’s already so close to the edge. I don’t let up—I can’t—because I want this. I want him to lose control, to explode in my mouth, so I can taste every sweet drop of him.

I swirl my tongue around the head, teasing the slit, and then I take him deep again, my throat opening wider, like it was made for him. His grip on my hair tightens, and I can feel his thighs trembling as he fights it, but I don’t let him.

“I’m in control,” I tell him, pulling away, lifting a brow.

He smirks and bites that lip as I move back to him, sucking harder and slower until it’s agonizing for him.

My lips seal tight, and then his mouth falls open.

I feel the first hot spurt of his cum hitting the back of my throat.

I swallow it down greedily, my tongue working him through every pulse, every shuddering release, until he’s spent and panting above me.

I don’t immediately pull away. I keep him in my mouth, my tongue lapping at the sensitive head of his cock, savoring the last drops of his cum as they spill onto my tongue. He’s still hard, still throbbing.

I smile up at him, my hands on his thighs. “Guess you can mark it off your list now.”

“Hell yeah,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “You’re fucking amazing,” he whispers against my lips.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say. “You’ve given me more orgasms in twenty-four hours than my ex gave me in four years.”

He gives me that cocky grin that always makes my heart race, and I know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

“What a piece of shit.”

“Yep,” I say, lips swollen, pussy still throbbing.

The knock returns.

Colt interlocks his fingers with mine. “Don’t meet their eye, whoever it is.”

When we step back into the hallway, hand in hand, his youngest brother, Sterling, is standing there with his arms crossed, leaning up against the wall. He pulls his phone out and takes a picture of us.

“What the fuck?” Colt asks.

“Hey, Beckett and Harrison bet me a hundred dollars each that you weren’t the two banging in the restroom. I needed proof,” he says.

Colt takes the phone from his hand.

“Delete it, and I’ll give you one thousand in cash,” I say, grabbing Sterling’s cell phone from Colt and handing it back to him.

“Seriously? That’s not how bets work,” he says, confused.

“So? You take an ego hit and earn eight hundred dollars,” I explain.

Sterling holds out his hand, and we shake on it. Then he deletes the photo. “Smart woman. Welp, guess I didn’t see you. Have a good night, lovebirds.”

“Just wait until you start dating seriously. I’m gonna embarrass the hell outta you,” Colt tells him, leading me back to the bar, and no one gives us a second glance.

I spot Harrison and Beckett by the bar and point them out to Colt.

He takes my hand, darting us away from them as London finishes her last song.

We stand at the edge of the room and watch the crowd scream and chant for her at the end.

When they head offstage, Colt waves goodbye to her, then leads me out the door.

By the time we make it back to the truck, my skirt is wrinkled and my hair’s a wreck, and Colt looks just as shameless—shirt untucked, collar crooked, lips a little too swollen to be subtle.

He climbs behind the wheel.

I smooth the hem of my skirt, but it doesn’t matter.

Colt glances at me, the corner of his mouth pulling upward. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t either.” I shrug. “I’d do it again though.”

He laughs, full-bodied and totally unrepentant. “Fuck, me too.”

I chew on my lip. “Want to stop by the church on the way home?”

“Now who’s the sinner?” he asks, resting a hand on my thigh.

“I’m just enabling.” I slide my fingers over his knuckles.

“It’s locked. We’ll have to sneak in on a Sunday afternoon.”

I lift my brows. “You’ve done recon on this?”

“Nah, darlin’, just paid attention to details when everyone else wasn’t.”

The ride home is full of stolen glances and smirks. My legs are tingling, and I don’t bother pretending I’m not replaying the last thirty minutes in my head. From the look on Colt’s face, he is too.

When we pull into the driveway, the house glows like it was waiting for us.

Inside, it’s cool and dark and familiar. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, I let out a long breath.

Colt watches me for a beat, then steps forward and cups my face in his hands. “That,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over my cheek, “was the best weeknight I’ve ever had.”

I laugh, curling my fingers into the front of his shirt. “I think we’ll keep our talk-of-the-town crown.”

“I don’t care.” He kisses me. It’s soft and deep, all desperate aftermath that’s full of promise.

We end the night tangled together in bed, a blanket draped across us like an afterthought.

My body’s sore in the best way. My heart’s too full. And as he holds me against him, I let myself imagine a life where I don’t leave.

Is it even possible?