Page 38 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

COLT

T he afternoon settles quietly around us.

Warm light filters through the windows, catching on floating dust and finished walls.

Now that the walls are completed, we decided to do a deep clean of the first floor.

Stormy works silently a few feet away, washing windows as if they had wronged her.

I’ve got a shop vac, and I’m trying to get the sawdust from between the slats of the hardwood floor.

Stormy hasn’t said much since lunch. Not that we’re ever chatty when we’re both focused, but today feels different. It feels heavier, like whatever’s weighing on her has roots.

I glance over, pretending to look at the edges of the room, but really, I’m watching her shoulders. They’re drawn tight, like she’s holding something in. Stormy’s the kind of woman who’ll speak when she’s ready and not a second before. So, I wait for her.

The silence stretches between us, comfortable and not. She steps back from the window, eyes trailing the streaks, but then she focuses outside.

Then, like she’s trying the words on her tongue, she says, “No one’s ever truly wanted me before.”

I stop moving. Her voice is calm, like she’s explaining the weather, but it cracks at the edges, just enough to gut me.

“Not for who I am deep inside,” she adds, staring straight ahead. “No one has ever wanted this raw version of me.”

I straighten, turning off the vacuum, but I don’t speak.

“I’ve been loved for how I look. For my family name. For the image of me that fits into someone else’s life. But never … never just because I exist.”

Her hand falls to her side, brush dangling uselessly.

“I’ve always known every relationship I’ve ever been in was for business expansion,” she says. “I just didn’t say it out loud before.”

I cross the space between us.

She doesn’t look at me until I take the soapy rag from her hand and set it in the bucket.

And even then, it’s a plea, maybe.

I lift my hand and touch her cheek, just barely.

“Until now,” I say, like a vow.

She blinks, and her bottom lip catches between her teeth like she doesn’t trust it.

I let my body speak where words won’t reach.

My hand slides to her jaw, my thumb brushing the edge of her mouth, and then I kiss her.

It’s not rushed or hungry, just slow and full of emotion, like I’m trying to kiss every piece of her that’s ever been made to feel replaceable.

Her hands grip my shirt, and she melts against me with a whimper.

“Until you,” she whispers.

I hold her there, and the silence of the house wraps around us.

“I want you for the woman you are. The woman who’s standing in front of me right now. Nothing else,” I confess. “I wouldn’t care if you were penniless or homeless. None of that shit matters to me.”

I don’t let her go, not when I can still hear the quiet break in her voice, like admitting the truth cost her something she can’t take back. She’s still close, standing there like she doesn’t know what to do with herself now that the words are out. So, I reach for her hand and give it a gentle tug.

“Come with me,” I say.

She nods with no hesitation or questions, only trust.

We step into my bedroom, and it’s quiet in a way that feels holy. She stops just inside the doorway, her arms wrapped loosely across her stomach, like she’s holding herself together. I turn to face her and take a step closer to her.

I don’t touch her yet. I just study how fucking beautiful she is and let the silence settle between us. It’s filled with everything we haven’t said.

“You told me no one’s ever truly wanted you,” I say. “You need to know what it feels like to be worshipped.”

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t look away. Her eyes hold mine, and there’s something behind them. Hope maybe. Admiration. Longing.

The room is dim in the late afternoon light.

I move her until she’s standing in front of the full-length mirror, her back to me, her body trembling with anticipation.

In the reflection, those green eyes are wide, lips parted, breath hitching.

I don’t waste time. I grab her hips, my fingers digging into the soft flesh, and pull her back against me.

She gasps, her ass pressing into my erection, and I groan.

“Look at how fucking beautiful you are,” I softly say into her ear. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

I gently tug her hair, tilting her head back, and she meets my eyes in the mirror.

Her lips part wider with a whimper, and I can see the flush spreading across her chest. Her nipples harden and beg for attention.

My hand slides up her body, over the curve of her waist, and I cup her breast, squeezing.

She gasps, her hips grinding against me, as my hand goes lower down her body.

I dip inside the tiny shorts and can feel the heat of her pussy, even through the fabric of her panties.

“You’re fucking soaked,” I mutter, my fingers slipping beneath the lace, finding her clit already swollen and throbbing.

She cries out, her body arching into my touch, and I smirk, watching her face in the mirror as I tease her.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you? How much I’ve always wanted you?”

“Colt,” she breathes, her voice trembling.

I don’t make her wait. I spin her around, moving her to the bed. I push her shorts and panties down to her knees. I remove her shirt and bra until she’s naked in front of me.

“On the bed on all fours,” I instruct.

She does what I said as I move behind her, rubbing my hand firmly against her perfect ass. I can’t resist giving it a sharp slap. She yelps, but I can see the way her body instantly responds.

I grab her hips from behind. “Watch us. Don’t let your eyes leave this mirror. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

The sun bleeds across the sky, painting the room in hues of amber and gold, but all I see is her.

Her perfect fucking ass is arched over the edge of my bed for me, her thighs trembling slightly as she braces herself, her hands gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss of pleasure I’m about to unleash.

I want her to watch every filthy second of this, and she obeys like a good girl.

Her reflection is fucking hypnotic—her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, her hair cascading down her back like a dark waterfall. She’s a goddess, and I’m about to worship her like one.

I drop to my knees behind her, the hardwood floor digging into me, but I don’t give a fuck.

My hands slide up the backs of her thighs, feeling heat radiating from her skin. I spread her cheeks apart, and there it is—her pussy, glistening and swollen, begging for my mouth. Her asshole winks at me, tight and tempting, but I’ll get to that later. Right now, I’m here for her sweet cunt.

I lean in, my breath hot against her folds, and she shudders, a soft whimper escaping her lips. I don’t dive in just yet. No, I tease her first. I drag my tongue along her slit, from the base of her pussy up to her clit again, and she gasps, her hips bucking back toward me.

“Fuck,” she moans.

I grin against her, placing soft, teasing kisses. This is just the beginning.

“See how fucking beautiful you are with my tongue inside you?” I ask, popping my head up to make sure she’s still obeying.

I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, savoring the way she squirms. Her juices are already dripping down her thighs, and I lap them up like a man dying of thirst. She tastes fucking divine—sweet and salty, with a hint of something primal that drives me wild.

I bury my face deeper, my tongue plunging into her pussy, fucking her with it.

She cries out, her hands clawing at the sheets, and I can see her reflection in the mirror—her eyes wide, her mouth open as desperate pants escape her.

I pull back for a moment, just to see her writhe, to see the desperation in her eyes as she looks at me in the mirror.

“Please,” she begs.

“Please what?” I ask, my voice rough. “Tell me what you want, darlin’.”

She hesitates for a second, then whispers, “I want your mouth on me. I want your fingers inside me.”

That’s all the permission I need.

I dive back in, this time with a vengeance.

I suck her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue as my fingers slide into her pussy, curling to find that sweet spot inside her.

I work her over, my tongue and fingers moving in perfect harmony.

I’m lost in her, in the taste of her, in the way she’s falling apart for me.

I pull my fingers out and bring them to her asshole, pressing against the tight ring of muscle.

She gasps, but she doesn’t pull away; instead, she pushes back against me, begging for more.

I pull a tiny bottle of lube from my bedside drawer, wanting her to be comfortable, before I slide a finger inside her ass.

She screams out as my tongue continues to devour her pussy.

My tongue is working her slit like it’s my goddamn job, lapping up every drop of her.

She’s moaning, and I can feel her body shaking.

I force her pussy harder against my mouth.

My tongue flicks her clit, faster and more relentless, and she lets out a whimper that’s half pleasure, half desperation.

I’m not ashamed to admit I’m fucking addicted to her, and I’m not stopping until she’s a wet, quivering, sobbing mess.

I slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and she gasps, her walls tightening around me like a fucking vise. I whisper to her the whole time, telling her how beautiful she is, how good she tastes, how much I want her just as she is.

She grinds her hips against my face. She’s panting now, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, and I know she’s close. I focus on her clit again, sucking it into my mouth and flicking it with the tip of my tongue. As she comes, her pussy pulses like it’s trying to milk my fingers dry.