Work Text:
Because of a typo this author made on Discord, cockwarming became clockwarming.
Penelope’s Friday night sometimes consists of hanging out with her friends or watching reality TV. Tonight, it’s warm tea, drafting, and edits. She thrives in the comfort of her home after a long Friday of work. She’s wrapping up the latest chapter of her side project, an erotic novella under her pen name LW, which she’ll self-publish at the end of the month. She’s rereading, but she can’t help but notice the typo in the middle of the sentence. ‘Clockwarmng.’ It’s obvious she meant cockwarming.
“Fucking autocorrect.” She snorts, shaking her head. She can’t be mad at herself; it's just a typo. “Hmm,” she mumbles, feeling damp herself; it gives her a thought. The male lead she wrote, Sebastian, is described as a golden retriever type with chocolate brown hair. He’s attentive, caring, strong, resilient, respectful; it reminds her of Colin Bridgerton, her temporary roommate. She won’t tell him he’s her inspiration. The scene continues as Sebastian holds Lydia tightly by the waist. She had an idea for a cockwarming scene as a test of patience with crossing the boundaries of friends to lovers. She sees it as a reward before the big ‘O’.
Penelope decides to call it a night and weighs her options: movie night with pizza. Call up Gen and Eloise to hang out. Masturbate and go to sleep. She’s not up for a movie right now. Gen’s possibly on a date. The last time she texted Eloise, she was with Phillip, and they were out of town for a holiday after her nonstop workload at the law office. She could go out by herself, get a drink at the pub. That would count as dressing up and putting on makeup. Leaning on the last option. She could text one of her last hookups to ease the ache, but he’s engaged.
She is alone. In her room. Colin left 10 minutes ago to meet with his brothers and check on his flat. She checks her room door; it's closed. Is it locked? He’s been staying with her while his flat is being renovated. It’s been two weeks; she hasn’t properly touched herself since he moved into Eloise's former room. He might hear her; she’s loud. She’s been looking for freedom to yell out his name in solace. He hasn’t made it easy for her. The memory of that one time he got out of the shower the first night he arrived: his towel low on his hips. His chest hair glistened like stars. The steam was practically radiating from his skin when he smiled and told her the shower was available. She walks around with wet underwear all the time, thanks to the existence of her beautiful, handsome best friend. After he finished, she went to the shower and held the shower head between her legs. The pressure of the water on her cunt was enjoyable; she came hard. The water shielded her moans, but she clamped her hand over her mouth.
She didn’t want to risk that again, so for two weeks, she had to let her horniness pass her by, but she’s feral most of the day.
She scrambles off her bed, closes her laptop, and locks the door. Just in case. She pulls off her pajama pants and underwear, tossing them aside. Opening her drawer next to her bed, she takes out her trusty blue vibrator, not turning it on yet. She sets a 15-minute timer on her phone. “Let’s make it 20,” she mutters. “For scientific purposes.” He might be gone all night. Or he might arrive early.
She inserts the vibrator between her legs, nestling it in her vagina, and sits on the edge of the mattress. She's drenched from her own spicy chapter; it doesn't take a struggle as it slips in her folds. She imagines Colin as Sebastian, and her as Lydia. She breathes in and out slowly, only the sounds of the buzzy toy in the room.
She tries her best not to arch her lower back or grind. As she bites her bottom lip, her gut fluttering as she lets out a small moan. Her gut swirls from that delicious feeling before you cum, she places her hand on her clit, no rubbing, no writhing, no movement. It feels good, in a calming sort of way. She pictures Colin’s cock, how it would fit. How it would slide in. his size. “Mmmm,” and then the toy stops. “What the fuck.” it stops. She frowns, pulls it out, and presses the button. It buzzes for a second and then stops. The red light blinks in her face, and then it disappears.
“Damn it!” She tosses it on the ground. She hasn’t charged it. She groans out loud, hits the back of her head against her pillow, holding her face. Now she has to charge it. Can she use it while it's charging? Two hard knocks interrupt her spiral.
“Pen?” Colin's voice comes from the other side of her door. He’s home! Already?! Fuck! Oh my god, he probably heard her. Her vibrator’s taunting in her face as it lies on the floor, like it's laughing at her. The dead phallic toy. She grabs it and throws it in the drawer where it belongs. She can charge it later, use her fingers, and keep quiet. “You ok?” The doorknob jiggles, shit. Penelope reaches for her pants and puts them on quickly. She rushes to the door and unlocks it.
“Colin! You’re back! So soon.” She smiles, containing her breath and holding a hand to her chest. She catches her breath at the sight of him and his tousled brown hair and grey shirt and black pants. Fuck. He’s not playing fair, looking this good.
“Yeah, Anthony had a work emergency. Benedict couldn’t stand being away from Sophia, and Greg got a text from this girl named Lucy. I guess it's just you and me tonight.” He shrugs.
“Oh. Ok. That sucks, but it’s good that you're home.” Minutes before I thought of your cock in my pussy, but it's cool. She wears a grin and squints her eyes.
“Yeah. Are you all right? I heard you groan, like you were in pain.”
Her eyes widen; he heard me. I didn’t moan out his name this time. Think, Featherington. “I hit my toe on the bed frame,” she rolls her eyes like it's no big deal.
“Oh. Can I check?” He reaches down to her leg and lifts it to check for bruising. She whimpers; his finger brushes her skin, leaving goosebumps. She drops her leg, as if his touch is scalding.
“I'm fine. Good even.” She smiles again; it's stiffer and fake.
“Your door was locked.” He points out.
“I- did that, force of habit.”
“What habit?”
“Siblings.” She scoffs.
He smirks. “I get that. It’s the reason I bought my own place.” Knowing Colin, and living with 7 siblings whenever they barge in without knocking, of course he needed his privacy. He loved his big, chaotic family, though.
“But you’re home. Which is good. I mean, sorry your plans fell through.” She changes the subject.
“I’m not. It means I get to spend more time with you.” He rests the palm of his big hand on her cheek, using his thumb to caress it. She shivers internally. “Your skin is flushed, but you don’t feel warm. Are you sure you’re all right?” His hand spreads across her cheek, fingers trailing to her forehead. He uses the back of his hand to check her temperature.
She gulps and lets out a shaky breath. She could tell him it was because of the erotic novel, or she could tell him she attempted to withhold masturbation at the thought of him and her in a roleplay scene, and it was ruined because she forgot to charge her sex toy. His crystal blue eyes are distracting; his scent is intoxicating- cinnamon and sandalwood. So she said:
“I uh-” she clears her throat, “I was rewatching Vampire Diaries.” She shuts her eyes. He snorts as he gazes into her eyes. His dark blue eyes were hypnotizing. She can’t look into Colin’s eyes for too long.
“Really?”
“Ian Somerhalder!” She blurts out the first movie that popped into his head. Why? He’s wearing a grey shirt, and dirty thoughts are swirling in her head. What better than her celebrity crush? “You know how hot he is!” She fans herself dramatically. He’s not hotter than Colin, but he’s in the top ten. Ian’s eyes were light blue, broody, and has a good smile. But Colin… Colin’s real, in front of her. Caring, kind, emotionally intelligent, handsome, tall, and strong. Strong enough to lift her. No, she shouldn’t get ahead of herself. She could only dream. His denim blue eyes…oh!
“You think Ian Somerhalder is hot?” His dark brown brows furrowed enough; Penelope thinks they reach his eyelashes. Noticing his clenched jawline and neck. Oh, his neck. She wants to lick it the way the female character licks the male character. The author describes it as long and sensual. She wants to lick it roughly.
“Of course. Who wouldn’t?” She answers with a shrug. Who wasn’t Team Damon, besides those who were Team Stefan? The timer notifies her that time was up, shit, she forgot about that. She jogs to her device, stops the timer, and puts it in her pocket.
“Alarm?”
“No. Uh, I’ll start making dinner.” She moves away from her doorframe and heads to the kitchen. They alternated who made dinner during the week. Sometimes they got takeout if neither of them wanted to cook. Colin cooked more than she did since he moved in. She didn’t want to burden him by letting him cook.
“No, I’ll do it.” She hears him say behind her. He grabs her shoulders to stop her footsteps and turns her around.
“Colin, it’s ok, I’ll-”
“It's the least I could do, since you’re helping me stay at my time of need.”
“Your flat is being renovated, Colin. You could have stayed at a hotel. It’s what you’re used to.” Colin’s a world traveler; it’s his passion. For the past ten years, he’s been around the world at least twice. Now at 32, he’s decided to settle down after getting a job as an editor at a small publishing company. He seemed happier now that he’s home.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t get to see your face when I wake up every morning.” He flicks her nose playfully; she scrunches her nose as she watches him stand in front of the stove. He pulls out one pot and one pat, and opens the fridge. Everything feels so domestic, warm, cozy. It always feels like that with Colin. She watches him as he continues to prep, his muscular, strong back, his fit arse- and she holds in her whimper. He’s home, he’s wonderful, he’s sweet. He’s her best friend. Bestie. A bestie that distracted her so much she forgot to put on her underwear. Every time she moves, the pants rub against her wet pussy, she groans silently. Shit. She needs to get through the night so she can continue where she left off. The clock is ticking, her panties are squishy, and Colin being sexy in front of the stove is not helping.
+++
Colin can’t help but notice the concentrated look Penelope had on her face as they began their rewatch of The Vampire Diaries. Her cute nose scrunches up, lines on her forehead, and a slight squint at the scene of Damon dancing with Vicky after they drank each other’s blood. He’s familiar with the show; he has four sisters who love it, the Salvatore brothers, and the Original family, as they said they were ‘interesting and hotter.’ With the exception of Hyacinth’s obsession with Stefan, she bought his daylight ring online. So he’s enduring the teen romance show for teens and young adults.
Colin likes seeing her thoughtfulness. He likes being around her. It brought him peace, peace he’s been searching for since he stopped his travels. Peace that brought him close to his family. Peace that he got a chance to have these moments with his best friend. His beautiful, sexy friend. His home. He looks away, going back to the show. Technically not his home, he’s rooming with her for the month while his flat is being renovated. Penelope happily welcomed him to share the spare room. Eloise moved out to live with Phillip. One of his favorite moments was reading hour. They’d done this since high school, when she was 15 and he was 17. They enjoyed each other’s company. When his travels began, they read through video chat until they fell asleep. They even read out their favorite scenes to each other.
Colin couldn't wait to come home and tell her again how grateful he was for her. He was excited to see her. When he entered, he assumed she wasn't home until he heard noises in her room. He heard her curse loudly. He wanted to rush in but then realized her door was locked. Was she trying to avoid him? Did he do something wrong? When he saw her flushed face and tight smile, he felt she was handling her private business. If she wanted to be satisfied, all she had to do was ask.
So he let it slide and offered to make dinner as a token of his humility and to take care of his best friend. Pasta Puttanesca: he learned the recipe from a sweet older woman while traveling to Italy last year. It’s Penelope’s favorite, his favorite too; he liked watching her eat it because she made these soft moaning noises. She tried not to slurp loudly, but the moans. The moans drove him to his explicit thoughts.
He knew Penelope is fiercely independent; it's one of the things he loves about her. He’s known her forever. They just celebrated her 29th birthday last month. He's in love with his best friend. He hasn't told her; he can't handle the rejection. He would rather show her than tell her.
He looks at her face again; her expression has changed. He knows that face: she’s not paying attention. She’s spacing out, possibly deep in thought. It was the same face she had when she spoke to her insufferable mother on the phone, who criticized her for everything. The same face she had when she learned her job was cutting back hours. It was the same face she had while she was eating dinner. Besides getting distracted by her moans, he was worried about her worry. He wanted to ask what was going on, but she shook her head dismissively. She asked him for an update on the flat; he told her they might need another week for renovations. He’s in no rush; he always loved Penelope’s company. Her scent of lavender and lemon lingers in his nostrils even when he’s not with her. She kept licking her lips after she slurped the noodles. Her full lips he wanted to suck and kiss. He held his own when she felt his eyes on her. She had asked, “Do I have sauce on my face?”
He cleared his throat and answered, “No, you removed it.” She nodded as they continued to eat in silence. He didn’t trust his voice the entire meal. Her plump lips chewed slowly as she kept fidgeting in her chair. They moved to the couch, snacking on sour cream and onion crisps as they continued watching the show.
He looks back at the screen. It was the episode where Damon’s looking for his daylight ring. Damon’s open shirt. He begins to sulk; he slumps on the couch and pouts. So she finds these men… Hot? No way. She’s usually silent when they watch TV together, but she’s fidgeting, rubbing her thighs together. He clears her throat and goes back to the show. However, her lush thighs are distracting as she watches and moves her thighs again. How he wants to put his face between her thick thighs, run his tongue on her-He sniffs, trying not to show his jealousy. She checks her phone and sighs out loud.
“Do you need help?” Colin asks, breaking her concentration. She looks at him with wide eyes. Those doe blue eyes he loves look back at him as if he caught her with her hands in her pants. He wishes for that sight.
“Huh?” Penelope questions.
“You’ve been wiggling your bum all night since I got home. What’s going on with you? Your face is getting red again. Is it Damon?” He grits his teeth. “Is he getting you hot?”
Penelope smirks, seeming amused by his behavior; however, he notices her moving around too much. She winces internally. “Getting me hot? Very outdated words, Colin. I’ve seen this episode so many times. It’s a comfort watch, remember? I mean, we can watch something else, but -” she's rubbing her thighs again. Does she have any idea how distracting that is? He wants to grip them open to settle her down. “You sound a bit jealous, Colin.”
“I'm not.”
“It's ok to be jealous of good-looking men.”
“He's not that good-looking,” he pouts and folds his arms around his chest.
“Yes, he is.”
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes.
“You’re so cute.” She says it out loud before she can stop her words. She clears her throat. “And what do you mean if I need help?”
“You’ve been rubbing your thighs together as if you have an itch to scratch.”
“W-what?” She stutters.
“If you need help with it because of Damon,” he chokes on his name, “then you can go in your room and do what you have to do or I could…” he trails off.
“Could what?” she asks.
“Help you. With your itch.” She hitches a breath and licks her lips. His eyes go straight to her mouth. Is he offering to… she can lie and say she wants to use the bathroom because she’s wet. Or she can say she’s not wearing underwear because he came home early. Or she can go to her room to finish herself off.
“Have you heard of cockwarming?” she asks. She chooses none of the above.
“What?”
“Cockwarming. I was writing a chapter earlier before you got home.” She hesitates and stutters, “I was reviewing for edits and missed a typo; it said clockwarming instead of cockwarming.” She puts her hands on her knees, trying to dismiss how obviously horny she is, and here’s Mr. Gorgeous offering to relieve her state of her throbbing core.
He scoffs, “And what's that?”
“It's in the name, Colin. A person sits on the other person’s lap and… Warms their cock.”
“Without moving?”
“Yes.” She sticks her tongue out. “It made me think of whether there was a time limit on it before one has an orgasm.”
“Is it possible for someone to come while cockwarming?”
“I believe so.” She reaches for the bowl and eats a handful of crisps. “It’ll be like a reward.”
“Have you done it?” Penelope sputters and begins coughing. “Shit, you ok?” he hits her upper back.
“Wrong pipe,” she gasps and clears her throat, hitting her chest. He stands up, heads to the kitchen, and grabs a bottle of water. “Thank you,” she wheezes, opening the bottle and taking a long sip. “And no, I haven't done it.”
“But you seem to have experience with it.”
“I read about it. I write about it. No man has ever asked me to warm their cock or sit on their lap.”
“Not with Fife?” Colin clenches his teeth when he says his name. The thought of Penelope being with that knobhead made him want to punch him. She shakes her head. “Fife had special interests.” She doesn’t want to go into too much detail about Fife coming on her back.
“Not Allen?”
“Alfred.” She rolls her eyes playfully. He still does that thing where he likes to forget her ex-boyfriend’s name. Even the way he says his name with such disgust amuses her. “No, i didn’t do that; he was lacking at best.” Alfried enjoyed missionary. He was as bland as unseasoned cauliflower, his favorite vegetable.
“You actually had sex with him?”
“He was my boyfriend for eight months.” And he wouldn’t let her ride him, either.
“Don’t remind me; let's get back to this cockwarming. You don’t use your hands?”
“Colin, it's more of a penis-in-vagina situation. I would sit while you’re inside me. No movement. Like it marinates. Oh, god, I shouldn’t say that.” She cringes. “It focuses on intimacy, and it made me curious.”
“To try it?”
She nods. If a man is willing to let her sit on his lap without thrusting, it would be a thrill. If Colin was up for it. But Colin’s not into her. He’s just a friend. A friend she wants, desires, loves.
“Oh, I could do that,” Colin says with confidence.
Her head snaps up to him, her eyes wide. She snorts and giggles. “Yeah, sure.” She searches his face for a slight indication of a joke. He doesn’t move, smirk, or grin. He’s serious. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah, I am.” His smile is light, endearing, honest, just like Colin. Colin’s not the type to go into something halfway; he goes all the way in.
“What makes you think you could handle it, without trying to move?”
“I’m a patient man, Penelope. I like watching my hookups come.” Now this intrigued her. Colin likes watching a woman come; dare she try it with him? She’s still wet.
“Prove it,” Penelope says with a grin. Calling his bluff, she wants to see; she's putting herself out there to her best friend; it won’t mean anything, right?
“Pen, that's a bet you’re going to lose,” Colin smirks.
“I guarantee you I won’t. I have the patience as well; I won't move.” She practically had to stop her practiced cockwarming when he came home.
“I have stamina. My cuckoo pops up and stays up.”
Penelope giggles, “Your what?”
“My cuckoo cock, cause it goes all the way up for you.” Colin raises his eyebrows suggestively. She scoffs, biting the bottom of her lip and shaking her head. He’s being his charming self with her. Flirting, he’s flirting with. She’s still intrigued, but this is overstepping boundaries between them. Yes, she asks for this; yes, there will be no thrusting. Yes, her heart's beating fast, and yes, her inner thighs are trembling at the thought and the act. Wait, did he just say he gets erect for her?
“Ok, let's make a bet: whoever doesn't move within thirty minutes wins.”
“Deal. And what does the winner get?” This is Penelope’s chance. Colin's dick between her legs was one of her fantasies. Well, that and her sitting on his face and taking her from behind. She has options.
“The winner gets two orgasms, any way they want.”
“Any way?”
“Yes.”
“Any position?” Colin asks.
“Yes.”
“Come on my lap, Pen. I could last all night.”
“As much as I want it to be all night long, 30 minutes is the set time. Your cock is on the clock, Bridgerton.” She pulls out her phone and sets the timer; she doesn’t press start yet. 30 minutes of her sitting on Colin as his cock stays in her pussy. She's already wet thinking of it. She pulls her pajama pants down, staring up at him. His mouth drops at the sight of her pussy. She feels the breeze and tries to hide behind her hands. He grabs her hands, getting a better view.
“Fuck, Pen, you haveb’t been wearing underwear this entire time?” His voice is lower, his eyes grow dark. He licks his lips as if he wants to devour her, he takes hold of her hips.
“You kind of interrupted me,” she says, her eyes darting away from his heavy gaze. He gives her a squeeze, she’s about to melt right here on the floor if she doesn’t sit down on him.
“So, you were-” he can’t finish his words. She nods. He rests his forehead on her lower stomach. His hard breathing tickles her skin. “You’re a work of art, Pen.”
“You’re just saying that.” She laughs nervously, tyring to hide again, but he won’t let her.
“No. I’m not. Go on, then.” He sounds out of breath.
“You have to take off your pants, too.”
“Right.” He pulls them down, along with his boxers. His erection bobs, her eyes widen. How is he going to fit? Her vibrator isn’t big as he is. “Damn.”
“I told you. All for you.”
“But you didn’t tell me you were-” she hitches her breath again. Her core is slick enough; it will fit. “Bring it.” Penelope licks her lips, gazing into his dark blue eyes. It reminds her of crisp, fresh water before you tread inside. The kind of water that the sun reflects it on. “Should we kiss?” she asks.
“If you want to. But not now,” Colin says, “right now, you’re gonna sit on my lap while we watch this Vampire show.” He turns her around so they’re both facing the television.
“I will be your arm chair.” She sits on his lap, and the air escapes her lungs. Being this close to Colin doesn’t surprise her, but being half naked and his cock going in her reaches another level of friendship. “Don't move an inch,” he whispers in her ear. He takes her phone from her hand.
“Same goes for you.” Her core is dripping, practically ruining the couch cushion.
“Then I guess I better hold on tight like a spider monkey,” he jokes, holding her waist tight.
Penelope scrunches her nose. “Wrong vampire franchise, Bridgerton.”
“I don’t care.” he slips inside her; they gasp. Her first instinct is to arch her back. He feels amazing, like the missing piece of her jigsaw puzzle. Complete. Her head is spinning. She doesn't want to break away. Carefully, she eyes the TV screen as the show continues. She whimpers; her thighs are shaky, holding back. She wants to grind on his lap so bad to relieve the ache; he hasn’t done anything yet.
He lets out a soft “fuck” before pressing the start button. “You’re drenched.”
“I know.”
29:59. Ok. She can do this; she’s earned this. Shes living her fantasy. The chapter she wrote. The dead phallic device has to be a sign that she needs a real-life cock. Colin's hands trails from her thighs to her lower stomach. Kissing her shoulder, and the back of her neck. His mouth moves back and forth; he sticks out his tongue and licks her skin slowly.
“You’re not playing fair, Colin.” Her voice is raspy; she feels a bead of sweat drip between her breasts. Along with her dripping pussy, she's mentally begging for the time to end.
“What?” Colin asks, hands trailing outside of her thighs. “I’m not doing anything.” Then he goes to her lower belly, massaging it.
“You’re being so mean.” She takes his hand and laces it. The time is ticking. He’s playing a tough game; he might win. But two can play at this game. She presses harder on his lap as the program goes on. She doesn’t know what scene is on; she couldn’t care less. She’s technically not moving; she’s pressing. She uses her fingernails, scraping his outer thighs softly.
“Shit, Pen,” he hisses.
“What?” she asks innocently.
“Now who’s not playing fair?”
“There were no rules in this bet.”
“We should have established that.”
“We should have.” She smirks to herself. Now, Colin continues his small pecks on the back of her neck, transitioning to sucking. She closes her eyes, relishing his touch, how he’s tasting her.
“You taste like vanilla.”
“Fucking hell,” she whispers. How long do they have? She looks down at the timer: 15:01. That was fifteen minutes. Her stomach clenches, itching for her to move. Not only is his cock massive, so are his thighs. He works out three times a week; his thighs are muscular compared to her plush ones.
“You’re gonna be a good girl for me and hold still?” His fingers trail from her stomach to her inner thighs; he brushes them back and forth on her skin. “You have such soft skin,” he whispers in her ear. “Do you have any idea how insane you drive me?”
“I could take a guess.” She gasps when his fingers inch to where she wants them to be.
“You wouldn’t be correct.”
“Try me.”
“I have to hold myself from bending you over the counter or the bed.” He brushes her hair from her shoulder, continuing the movements of his mouth on her skin.
“You’re-really?” She squeaks.
“Really.”
“You’re not just saying this to win,” she states instead of asking.
“No, Pen. I’ve always wanted you.” His finger halts, not reaching her pussy, she wants him to. Let him relieve it so she doesn’t have to do it alone. “We’re already obliterating friendship lines, right?”
“This won’t change anything.”
“I’m not sure about that.” He squeezes the skin of her thighs; she lets out a moan. He nibbles on her shoulder.
“Colin, please.”
“Please, what, sweetie?”
“Touch me.”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
“That would cause you to move. You said it’s a reward. And you feel good right now.”
“If I start rocking my hips,” she says, “I’m not going back.”
“We have three minutes.” She lays her head back; they’re face to face.
“Kiss me.” He doesn’t hesitate, diving in, pressing his lips to hers. It’s closed-mouth, yet heavy. He splits the seam with his tongue, massaging his with hers. He groans. She almost moves; he holds her waist tightly. She reaches her hand behind the back of his head, grabbing hold of his hair and pulling it hard for an anchor to keep her down. He growls against her mouth.
“Do that again,” he says, without releasing her lips. She runs her fingers through it and does it again. “You’re driving me wild.”
“You’ve been driving me wild for two weeks,” she confesses.
“You’ve been driving me wild my whole life.”
“Ditto.” The timer beeps, alerting them. She almost jumps from his lap. He’s still holding her. Now his hands go straight to her legs.
“It’s a tie, baby.” His fingers rub her clit in circles as she grinds on his cock. He spreads her wide.
“Thank God.” his hands are blessed by the lord. He doesn’t rush, but he presses hard against her body. Her body’s on fire. “I guess we both win.”
“That means we both get what we want.” he reaches into her shirt, finding her hard nipples. He tweaks them with his index finger and thumb.
“Fuck, Col-” She can’t speak as he continues to the motion of his beautiful hands. Her heart’s beating fast. She gasps, finally being able to rock her hips back and forth. She smiles. He pulls her hair and kisses her again sloppily. “Yes. yes. Yes. More.” He begins thrusting up her core as they kiss.
“You want more?” He asks against her lips.
“I want to come, Colin.” She matches his thrusts and quickens the speed.
“Come for me, good girl.” Hearing those words makes her collapse. She screams out his name; he groans out loudly. She sighs, out of breath. It’s official, she has a praise kink.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asks, her head dizzy, trying to get back to reality.
“I did.” He removes her from his lap. He takes off his shirt and makes her face him. “I owe you another orgasm, Pen.”
“But it was a tie-” she doesn’t finish her words; his mouth is already on her pussy. He licks up her folds slowly. Her knees buckle; she’s about to fall. “Stay up, let me taste you.” He places one of her legs over her shoulder. He devours, not nibbles. He kisses and sucks, no pecks. Her eyes roll to the back of her head when his fingers thrust into her, and he sucks her clit.
“God dammit.” She lets out softly. She’s holding her cum, it’s too good. She pulls his hair again. He makes a ‘mmph’ sound against her cunt. “Colin, I want your cock in my mouth.”
“Not yet,” she assumed his hands were heaven-sent. His mouth, his lips, he’s astonishing at this. He must have had practice with other women. She shouldn’t think of that.
“Ohhhhhhh, yes!!” she wails. Her thighs clench as she comes; he drinks her to the last drop. He places her on the couch, on her back and kisses her gently, tasting herself.
Before he does anything else, she goes to her knees in front of him. Removing her shirt, revealing her braless breasts. Her nipples are pink and hard; it’s everything he wanted. “You’ve been practically naked under your clothes, Pen. Your-” his words are swallowed when her gaze doesn’t leave his. She spreads his legs open. He’s still erect.
“I owe you one too.” Her eyes are hooded as she licks the tip, circling it three times, tasting the saltiness of her and him, and opening her mouth to fit the girth of his dick. She hollows her cheeks as she sucks; he groans out, gathering her hair in one hand. Colin’s cock needs to be painted; she will take art classes to do it. The shape, the sparse hair on top, and the tip of it need to be inside her all the time.
“Fuck, baby,” he says in a low voice. His head falls back on the couch, her mouth moving in and out, massaging his balls. He lets out a whimper and a loud groan. She wants to hear him; she sucks him in deeper, reaching the back of her throat. “Holy shit, how do you-” he gasps, going cross-eyed. He grunts, “Oh!” She doesn’t stop until he comes. He’s loud, like she was. It’s music to her ears. He comes down her throat before she releases him, and it drips on her chin and chest.
“You’re phenomenal.” He kisses her cheeks when he places her back on his lap, kissing her neck. She nuzzles her face in his and licks his, lingering her tongue; she grinds on him. “You’re right about one thing; your cock is like a cuckoo clock.” He chuckles against her skin.
“My neighbors are gonna be so mad at me,” she giggles breathlessly.
“Move in with me,” he says, playing with her hair.
“I still pay rent here for another year.”
“I’ll buy out your lease.”
“Colin, be serious.” Their eyes meet. There’s no sense of jokes in his eyes. Both are naked, no barriers. No shield. Just them.
“I am serious. When it’s done, I want you there. I-I love you, Pen.”
“Colin-” Tears are gathering in her eyes.
“Don’t cry. I’m not teasing you or anything. I love you. I’m in love with you. For so long. If I don’t say it now, I might shut myself off again.”
“Colin, you- you don’t know how much those words mean to me. I’ve been in love with you for so long; friendship and love seemed to blur together.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?” She asks. He wipes the stray tear that escapes her eyes.
“I was scared I might say the wrong thing, or you won’t feel the same for me,” he admits.
“Great and cowardly minds think alike.” She laughs painfully.
“Don’t say that we’re cowards. More like, shy.”
“Colin Bridgerton shy? I doubt it.”
“When it comes to you, absolutely.” He presses his mouth for a small peck on the side of her own mouth.
“I make you shy?” She scoffs.
“Immensely. Your smile, your gorgeous eyes. Your curvy body. I could live between your thighs forever. Your arse. Your breasts. Your breasts are a renaissance portrait.”
“Says the guy with the slutty waist, chest hair, denim blue eyes, thick, muscular thighs, and soft hair.” She replies.
“You’re slut shaming me, Featherington?” He licks her ears.
“No way. It’s just that your waist should come with a warning sign.” He laughs, kissing her as she giggles along. “We should continue this on a bed.” She suggests. He lifts her up with ease, heading to her room and slamming the door.