46. Fable

Chapter 46

Fable

I 've been saving this outfit for a while. I'd finished it a week ago and then left it to sit, but it feels like today is the best day to wear it. It's Sunday, so no one is working, but the urge to still dress up is strong, so I don't fight it.

I pull on the clothing and look in the mirror, grinning at my reflection. I'm dressed like a wild west sheriff, thigh holsters and all. I'd made myself a little badge, but instead of it saying "sheriff", it says, "Baddie." I straighten it as I study my reflection, pleased at how it all came together. I look every inch the sheriff in a John Wayne movie. Mission Accomplished. All I need is a couple of real guns.

The first one to notice my outfit is Colt, which doesn't surprise me. He's an ex-cop, so his eyes go immediately to the badge on my chest.

"You here to arrest me?" he asks, amused.

"Only if you're bad," I tease.

He smirks and leans in. "Then get your cuffs, Annie Oakley."

I suck air through my teeth, doing my best to look unaffected. I fail. Fuck, what girl wouldn't?

Breakfast is a small affair. Mel made bacon and egg croissants the night before so he could attend some sort of business today, so we chow down on those before everyone disappears. All but Colt. He sits on the other side of the table, his fingers steepled in front of him, his eyes on me.

"Why are you staring?" I ask, narrowing my eyes on him.

"Am I not allowed to stare at a beautiful woman?" he replies.

I flush and it only makes the corner of his lips quirk up.

"Are you busy today?" I ask, watching him carefully.

Each of these men are vastly different. Rhett is like a scruffy stray dog, loveable, but carrying the trauma of the streets on his shoulders. Trent is an elusive cat, always trying to blend in and avoid being perceived. Gunnar is equal parts golden retriever and rottweiler, fiercely protective of those he calls his own but always smiling. And then there's Colt. Colt is a predator, always lying in wait for just the right moment. A jaguar stalking its prey, blending into the underbrush. Part of me thinks Colt has looked beneath my skin, that he can somehow read deeper than the surface. Another part of me realizes he wants to cut me open and see what's there. I don't know why that doesn't terrify me like it should.

"No," he replies. "Actually, I have something I wanna show you."

"Oh?" I ask.

"Come with me," he orders, standing and coming around the table to offer his hand.

I take it, because despite the perception I have of Colt, I trust him completely. Maybe that's stupid of me. Maybe I should be more cautious. When he leads me out to the kennels, that feeling starts to grow. Unease flickers through me as we walk into the silent building. The dogs are all clearly outside in the yard, roaming free and enjoying themselves, so it's just the two of us in here.

"The dogs are all outside?" I ask. He nods. "Then what do you wanna show me?"

"You'll see," he replies, guiding me down the rows before finally turning into an empty room down at the end. This room doesn't hold dogs usually. It looks more like storage. Along one of the walls, a bunch of different styles of collars hang from hooks. Leashes of all kinds hang beside them, waiting to be used for Colt's training sessions.

He turns and meets my eyes after he shuts the door. My anxiety skyrockets as I suddenly feel like a caged animal.

"Don't be afraid," Colt purrs.

"I'm not," I say, and I mean it. I'm not afraid, but I am nervous. The way Colt begins to stalk around me has my nerves on edge.

"Must be that sheriff badge giving you courage," he teases, and his fingers stroke along my arm as he passes behind me before coming to a stop in front of me again.

I tilt my head. "It is pretty easy to be brave when I outrank you," I tease, tapping the sheriff badge. "Sheriff is higher than officer."

He chuckles, stalking around me again. He presses himself against my back, his hands trailing up my arms before circling my neck from behind. He doesn't squeeze, only gently rests his hand there.

"You know," he rasps in my ear. "I've been thinking about you and Trent since Friday." He pushes my hair over my shoulder, and I can feel his warm breath against my neck. "The way you had him on his knees."

"Yeah?" I ask, my thighs clenching together. "What about it?"

He presses his lips against my neck, softly, teasing. "I want you on your knees like that for me."

I glance at him over my shoulder. "So, you prefer control then?"

He chuckles. "What about me makes you think I could ever be anything other than in control, Annie Oakley?"

I'm tense as he starts to trail around me again, stalking me, cornering me. I should leave. Colt is intense, dangerous, but I don't move. Part of me is eager to learn just how dangerous he can be. When he moves over to the wall and strokes his hand through the collars, I watch him carefully, trying to figure out what exactly he's doing.

He picks a choker collar from the wall, a simple silver chain one and holds it on the end of his finger as he looks at me. His eyes light with fire as he takes in my posture. "On your knees."

I tense. "What if I say no?"

He grins. "I would enjoy that."

I tip up my chin. "Then no."

His husky chuckle goes straight to my core. He lazily moves around the room, coming around me, disappearing behind me. I refuse to turn, to show him I'm afraid, even as every instinct inside me demands I not turn my back on a predator. I feel his presence behind me, like a heavy shadow, holding me hostage. I hold my breath, waiting to see what he'll do.

When the chain comes down over my head, I jerk, surprised, but the moment I go to pull away, his hand clamps around my chin from behind and holds me still.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chastises as he adjusts the dog collar around my neck. "No fighting it."

It settles between my breasts, and I look down, confused, before he spins me to face him.

"Now," he purrs. "On your knees, Annie Oakley."

I narrow my eyes. "No."

His lips quirk. "Very well."

His hand is around the end of the dog collar so fast, I don't even see him move. He pulls the end, and the collar suddenly tightens around my throat, cutting off my air. I reach up for it, clawing at him, but he only smiles as he repeats his words.

"On your knees."

Darkness dances at the edges of my vision as he keeps it tight. Fuck. Fuck! I drop to my knees hard, and he immediately releases the collar, letting me drag in great drags of air as I strain to fill my lungs.

"What the fuck?" I choke, rubbing my neck.

"You may be dressed like a sheriff today, Fable, but right now, I'm in charge," he says. "And right now, I'm going to fuck you until I'm satisfied."

My pussy clenches. Holy fuck. Dangerous doesn't even begin to cover it.

"You like that?" he purrs, leaning down to pluck my hat from my head before hanging it on a hook on the wall. "Just wait until my cock is buried inside that sweet cunt of yours. You'll be begging me to stop."

"Is the collar necessary?" I ask reaching up to touch it.

"Yes," he replies. "It looks good right there resting on your tits." He grabs a fistful of hair. "And when you don't listen, I'm going to tighten it until you come to heel."

"Like a dog?" I scowl.

"Not like a dog," he corrects, leaning down to rub his thumb across my bottom lip. "Like you're mine."

Why is this so hot right now? My feminism is slapping me in the face. But I understand this isn't about Colt respecting me or not. This is sex, raw sex, and Colt likes to be in charge here. This is something completely different.

"Open your mouth," Colt orders. I pop open my mouth and he smiles. "Good girl."

A bolt of pleasure shoots through me as I kneel there with my mouth open, waiting to see what he's going to do. He touches his finger to my tongue, and I close my mouth, sucking on it, drawing a moan from his lips as he watches me do it. He shoves his hand deeper so suddenly, I gag before he pulls back out.

"Open," he orders. "Unless I say otherwise."

My eyes water as I look up at him and he grins at the sight of it. When he starts to unbuckle his pants, I watch him hungrily, waiting until he frees his cock and lets it stand proudly in front of him. He steps forward and touches the tip to my lips, tracing around it. I keep my lips open, looking up at him for permission.

"Do you want this cock, Annie Oakley?" he purrs.

I nod my head, my eyes on him.

"How badly do you want it?" he asks. "Show me."

I look down at his cock and lean forward, tracing my tongue along the tip of it. His hand threads in my hair, holding tight, and when I would pull away, he presses deeper, pressing his length to the back of my throat and making me gag again. He moans at the feeling of it, his fingers going to the corner of my eyes where moisture gathers.

"Your throat feels so good," he tells me. "I'm almost tempted to fuck it ‘til I come, but I have other plans for you yet."

He thrusts in one more time before he pulls back out. His fingers curl around the end of the collar and he pulls me up with it, forcing me to scramble to my feet so it doesn't choke me. He immediately reaches for my clothing, tearing it off of me so fast, I can only stand still as he does so. As he shoves my pants down and reveals my prosthetic, he looks up at me as he carefully removes my pants.

"Do you trust me, Fable?" he asks.

I should say no. That would be smart, but it would also be a lie. "Yes," I admit.

"How far are you willing to go to prove you trust me?" he asks, standing to full height. "How far will you let me go?"

I tense. "What does that mean?"

"What I said," he replies, settling his hands on my hips. "Where is your hard line?"

I blink at him. "I. . . I don't know."

He nods. "I suspected, so here's our deal." He leans down and presses his lips to my temple. "If we reach a hard line, you tell me the word ‘whisker'. That's our safe word. Anything becomes too much, you say that word and we'll stop and regroup. Deal?"

How. . . considerate. I nod enthusiastically.

He pushes my hair back from my neck and strokes his hand down my body. "I respect you and I'll respect your safe word."

"I understand," I murmur.

He grabs the end of the chain collar and tightens it just to the point of squeezing without cutting off my air. "Good," he rasps. "Because to anyone on the outside, it's going to look like I don't."

He grabs me around the neck so suddenly, I gasp. He pushes me backward, forcing me to move until the backs of my thighs hit the table in the room. He shoves everything off of it and forces me to sit, his fingers going down to the edge of my prosthetic sock.

"Is this comfortable?" he asks.

"I'm used to it."

"That's not what I asked," he says dangerously.

I hesitate before slowly shaking my head. "No. It's not super comfortable."

He dips his finger beneath the edge of the plastic top. "May I?"

Slowly, I nod and watch as he starts to unbuckle things before pulling it free. He sets the prosthetic on the table beside me and reaches for the sock layers. Slowly, he pulls each one off, until he reveals the mangled flesh beneath. I flush, feeling exposed, but he strokes his fingers along my scars, tracing each one as if he's memorizing them, before he leans down and presses a kiss against my skin. He straightens and reaches for his shirt. He jerks it open, sending the buttons flying around the room, uncaring. His pants and boots go next, leaving him standing in nothing in front of me. As for me, all I wear is the collar.

He traces his hands down my chest, across my ribcage, groping my stomach, before he strokes his fingers through the wetness between my thighs. He purrs when he realizes how wet I am.

"Stand up," he orders.

I blink up at him. "What?"

"Stand up," he repeats, pulling at the chain.

I jerk up, balancing on my right leg, my hand holding onto the table, so I don't topple over. His hand comes out to steady me despite the command. He leans in and runs his teeth along my neck, his breath fanning across my flesh.

"Is it wrong of me to enjoy this?" he growls.

"Which part?" I pant, my fingers tightening on the table.

"That you need me right now," he groans, before pushing my prosthetic further away. "The fucked up things goin' through my mind right now should send me to hell."

I swallow thickly. Whatever he's thinking, it has to be bad. "What things are you thinking about?"

"You sure you'd like to know, Annie Oakley?" he groans. "If I say them out loud, I may wanna act on ‘em."

"Just say it," I grunt, my fingers going up to dig into his sides.

He steps back, his eyes liquid fire. "How about I just show you?"

He leaves me on the table, balanced there, his eyes on me until his back hits the opposite wall. He hesitates, his cock straining, so hard it looks like it hurts. A bead of precum hovers there, tempting, desperate.

He tips up his chin. "Crawl to me, Fable."

My heart stops. I stop breathing. "What?" I croak.

"Crawl to me." His eyes flick to my prosthetic. "As you are."

I think about the safe word, the one he'd given me if things are too out of line. I could use it right now. I could tell him this is my hard line, that this is where I don't want to go, but some secret part of me, some deep thing I haven't looked at, wants to do as he asks. With Trent, I was completely in control. With Colt, I lose it all, but. . . I don't hate that. I know if I ask for some control, he'd try. I know he'd be happy to fuck me however I'd like, but this is turning him on. Just as it turned me on to be in control of Trent.

Meeting his eyes, slowly, I sink to the ground, to my knees, and get on all fours. I don't look away as I slowly crawl across the floor, until I'm just beneath him, looking up expectantly. His hand wraps around the base of his cock and his breath rasps out as it twitches, as a little bit drips from his tip. I open my mouth eagerly and he obliges, letting me clean it off and groaning at the feeling of my tongue on him.

"Fuck," he moans. He lets go and scoops me up in his arms, lifting me as if I weigh nothing and pressing my back against the wall. "Tell me you need me."

"I need you," I beg, desperate for him to fill me. "Please."

"I wanna resist," he growls, "but I need you just as much."

He pins me against the wall and thrusts up inside me. I cry out, my head thrown back as he turns into the savage animal I always knew he'd be. He bites at my skin as he brutally fucks me against the wall, my legs wrapped around him as best as I'm able to. I hold on for dear life as he pistons inside me, as he claims me, as his cock jumps and he leaks.

Colt steps back, his cock still buried deeply inside me as I gasp in pleasure, taking me back to table, setting my ass on top of it as he gets a better angle and fucks me harder, making the table scrap against the floor. I cry out, my voice echoing around us, and the chain around my neck tightens, cutting me off.

"Fuck, I want to carve my name into your skin, claw my way inside, and make myself at home," he snarls. "I want to be so deep you never forget me."

I can't answer, not with the collar tight. My hand goes up to it and it eases just enough to give me some air before he tightens it again.

"You're so fucking soft," he groans, sinking his hands into my sides to fuck me harder. "So fucking perfect."

He pulls out and leaks onto my stomach, just a little. His hand comes up to rub it in before he pushes in again, fucking me until I'm shaking with release after release, exploding, crying out when he lets me breath, gasping when the collar is too tight. I shake beneath him as he takes just as much as he gives, as he destroys me and remakes me all at once.

"I'm going to come down your throat," he warns as he starts to grow more frantic. "I'm going to make you gag on it."

I moan, my body tumbling over the edge as he jerks out of me and drags me forward with the chain collar. I'm on my knees so fast, I hardly know I'm there until his hands fist into my hair and he shoves past my lips and teeth, until I gag on his cock, my back arching as I heave. His cock jumps and I feel him spill at the back of my throat, his hips pumping as I choke. He tightens the collar, and my vision starts to go black, my fingers clawing at his thighs as he moans out obscenities.

Fuck. I can't breathe. I can't. . .

The collar eases and he jerks out of my throat. I drag in great gulps of air, my ears ringing as I try to catch my bearings. I'm lifted into the air, but I can't really focus on anything until Colt is there in my face, his hand stroking my cheek.

"Fable," he says, and I focus on his eyes. "You did so good."

His hand strokes along my neck where I know there are probably marks.

Exhaustion closes in and I start to weave. He grabs me in his arms before I can collapse, cradling me against his chest.

"Shh, I've got you," he whispers. "I've got you."

As the exhaustion claims me, I swear I hear him whisper again.

"I love you, Annie Oakley."

But I must be imagining it. After all, that can't be what I heard.

Not when I'm leaving in five days.