“What about you?” my voice cracks with indignance, “Why do you get to ask all the questions?”
“You can play, too. Ask anything you want.” Colson gazes at the dark highway before us, “So, tell me, Honeybee,” I nearly melt into the floorboards when he utters this new nickname, “who was the last man to make you come?”
I notice he doesn’t ask who was the last man I had sex with…
“What man?” I breathe, staring straight ahead.
He straightens up, “Woman?” he chirps with intrigue.
I’m instantly reminded that Colson is still a 21-year-old guy.
“No,” I say flatly.
“No one?” he turns to me, taken aback, “Ever?”
I give a quick shake of my head. It’s embarrassing. I could’ve lied, made up some fictional man or woman who was vaguely familiar with female anatomy. The university is huge, he would never know. But I’m a terrible liar, and it’s a lot of effort when I’m preoccupied with other things at the moment.
Even without looking at him, I feel Colson’s expression change. My cheeks flush as I try to avoid his gaze, which is impossible, considering he has his entire hand inside my pants and a couple fingers inside me at any given moment.
“What a travesty,” he turns back to the road and shakes his head with disapproval, “no wonder you’re so saucy.”
Smug much?
“Alright, what about you?” I counter, as if it’s some kind of challenge.
Colson doesn’t answer at first, just takes a deep breath and leans back against the headrest.
A sneaky grin spreads across my face and I can’t resist, “Dacia Ferguson?” I guess.
If I derailed his plans that night as much as he said I did, it seems like a logical assumption.
“No,” he replies.
I’m secretly relieved. Dacia’s preferences are none of my business, but I’d rather not imagine what Colson might’ve been doing to her ass while I was wallowing in my own anger and self-pity.
I flex my back as Colson changes pace and slides two fingers back inside me, “Then who?” It comes out as a broken moan as I dig my nails into the leather seat.
“Dana Masterson and Leah Durham,” he deadpans.
My eyes dart across the console. Colson remains focused on the road ahead, his expression unchanged. I stare at him for a few seconds, his confession competing with the distraction of his torturous game.
I crack a smile, “Both?”
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, “Who am I to turn down such an offer?”
I bite back a smile, but it claws its way over my lips anyway and I let out a chuckle. I wonder if they were two of the flight attendants in that douchebag picture of him from Halloween…but it doesn’t matter, I am so telling Barrett, Emma, and Katie. They’ll fucking eat this up.
“Are you laughing?” Colson asks.
“Yes,” I gasp between giggles.
“Why?”
“You do sleep with all the Deltas!” I laugh, rolling my head across the headrest.
Colson slides his fingers in deeper, making my breath catch, “I don’t sleep with all the Deltas,” he replies matter-of-factly, “I was presented with an opportunity and I took it.”
“Mm-hmm…” I roll my eyes, a smile still pulling at my cheeks.
“Do you disapprove?”
“No, you’re not my boyfriend.”
“Not yet,” he shoots me a sideways glance, “but I bet you’d let me do a lot of twisted things to you if I was.”
Colson’s voice is enough to bring me right to the edge. I reach up and curl my fingers around his wrist, moving him up and down with the roll of my hips. But he stills his hand, letting the tension fade away. I exhale in frustration, digging my nails into his flesh, which only seems to amuse him.
“What do you like, Brett?” he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “I bet you have more kinks than a garden hose.”
He’s out for blood now. Probably because I laughed instead of getting jealous about him fucking two girls at once. Well, good, I’ll laugh at the details of his sordid sex life all night long if it gets under his skin.
“C’mon, don’t be shy,” Colson starts circling my clit again as I hiss a breath through my teeth, “what do you think about when you touch yourself?”
He’s so vengeful, clearly paying me back for the comment about the Deltas. I could lie about this, too, but…I don’t really want to. What’s the point? And as much as I don’t want to admit it…I want to tell him.
With an exhale, I relent and let my legs fall further apart. Colson’s satisfaction is audible as he relaxes his hand and fills the dripping space between my thighs.
A chill runs up my back, “You,” I murmur as I bite my lip.
