by J. Kenner
"You have to pay attention around here," Cole said, apparently reading my mind. "Things move awfully fast."
"They do indeed."
"I'll tell you about Italy someday."
I peered at him. "I thought you didn't look back."
"I thought you wanted to know."
"I do," I said. What I didn't add was, I want to know everything. But I think he heard that last part, anyway.
We sat that way for a moment, all soft and comfortable. He held his wine in one hand and stroked my calf with his other. It felt warm and sweet and I should have known it was too good to last.
It wasn't obvious--I'm not even sure I could point to a particular thing. But the pressure of his touch changed, and the tenderness took on a hesitant quality. I got the feeling he was a man who believed that a storm was coming, and feared that it would rip the ground out from under him.
"Will you tell me what's the matter?"
He'd been looking at his hand on my leg, the contrast of his dark skin and my too-pale legs. By the end of summer, I'd be the same golden brown as a waffle, but this early in the season I was still winter white. Now he lifted his head to look at me directly.
"This is nice," he said.
"I can see why that would bother you."
"I like seeing you this way, the contentment so thick around you I could paint it. And I like touching you, being close to you."
"I like it, too." I couldn't manage to hide the wary note in my voice.
"You were right when you said you could handle it. Tonight--all this. Everything since you walked through my door. You've been everything I wanted and more than I could expect."
I licked my lips. He was saying all the right things, and yet cold fingers of fear were creeping up my spine.
"You handled it," he said again. "But what about the rest of it?"
"Don't do that. Don't assume you know things. You don't."
"Don't I?"
My temper flared. "No, you don't. You tried to scare me away earlier--talking about wanting the pain, wanting to hurt me."
"I meant it," he said, and his voice was low and dangerous and firm.
"I know," I said as I set my wine aside. Then I tugged my legs off his lap and shifted on the couch so that I was on my knees in front of him. I took his wine and set it on the coffee table. "In case it escaped your notice, I liked it, too."
"Vanilla," he said. "Tonight was watery vanilla."
"And you think I can't handle mocha almond fudge?"
"I'm not joking, Kat."
"Do you think I am? Dammit, Cole, I liked what we did. It made me wet when you spanked me, and when you tied my arms back . . ." I drew in a breath, shocked to realize that just talking about it made me aroused all over again. "Don't you see? Being helpless to you--it turned me on. It was new and it was incredible. It was like you showed me some wonderful secret about myself."
I tossed back the last of my wine. "So if you think I'm going to walk out of here and not look back, you're wrong. Instead, I'm going to beg you for more."
"It's the more that scares me," he said, and I think it was the only time I had ever seen hard, honest fear in those eyes.
I shook my head, not understanding.
"Christ, Kat, don't you get it? I'm not afraid you're going to want to walk. I'm afraid I'll take it too far. Do you have any idea how hard I have to work to keep my grip? How easy it is for me to just lose it?"
I thought about the glass I'd heard shattering at the gala and about all the stories I'd heard about Cole's famous temper.
And then I thought of the tender way he'd touched me and brushed away my tears. The softness in his voice.
"You won't," I said.
"You don't know me that well."
I do, I thought. But what I said was, "Maybe not. But I want to. And I know what I've seen so far."
I searched for some reaction on his face. Pleasure. Relief. Anger. Right then I really didn't care. But there was nothing. It remained passively blank.
He stood. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Dammit, Cole." I got to my feet as well. "I'm not afraid," I said as he started to leave the room. "I'm not, dammit, but if you are then don't touch me. Just call me."
I'm not sure where the inspiration for those words came from, but they worked. He paused in the doorway.
"Call you?"
"You kept backing off and backing off. Pushing me away. But then on the phone, when you called, you didn't hesitate. Not at all. Not really."
I remembered the strength in his voice. The certainty. "That's it, isn't it?" I asked, my voice gentle. "It was easy to call me because there was no risk. No reason to be afraid of hurting me because I wasn't there."
I could understand that. Hadn't it been easier for me, too? I had no problems getting myself off, but with Cole hadn't I actually come under a man's touch--albeit an imaginary one--for the first time since, well, since forever?
He'd opened a door for me, and dammit, I wanted to do the same for him.
He said nothing, but I saw him draw in a breath, then close his eyes for a moment too long.
I took a step toward him. "But I was there," I whispered. "I felt every touch, every sensation. You were right beside me, Cole, and everything was fine. Hell, it was more than fine. It was incredible."
I waited for him to say something, and when he didn't, I pressed on, determined to make him understand. "You want to spank me? To tie me up? Do you want to use a whip on me or, I don't know, something else entirely?" I finished lamely, because I really didn't know what the something else could be. "Then call me. Tell me. Describe it to me. Every lash, every mark. Lose yourself in it, Cole. Take me, hurt me. Don't you see? I'm giving myself to you--wholly and completely. You can have me any way you want me."
I pressed my palm to his bare chest and felt the pounding of his heart, so hard, so fast. "Start like this, and then you'll see. And maybe then you can take me the rest of the way. Because I want to go with you, Cole. I really, really do."
I tried to read his answer on his face, but his expression was shuttered and he closed his eyes. Desire and hope warred inside of me, and I wanted to drop down onto my knees and beg him.
Instead, I simply waited. One moment, then a moment longer.
Frustrated, I released a slow, soft sigh, then took my hand from his chest.
Immediately, he grabbed it, then put it back exactly where it was. Only once I was touching him again did he open his eyes, and the pure longing I saw there made me want to pull him close. To kiss him. To burst into song.
Instead, I stayed perfectly still, afraid that I was seeing too much. Expecting too much.
"Kat," he finally said, his voice so full of heat and tenderness that I was certain I would melt.
"Yes?"
"Two things."
I nodded.
"From now on, answer your phone when I call. I don't care what else you're doing, if it's me, you answer the phone."
My heart fluttered. "Yes." And then I remembered the books I'd read, the movies I'd seen. "Yes, sir," I added, and was rewarded with an amused curve to his lips. "And the second thing?"
"I want you in my bedroom," he said. "And, Kat? I want you naked."
I grinned. "Funny. I want that, too."
twelve
When he came into the bedroom with the wine and our glasses, I was sitting on the end of his bed naked, my fingers lightly stroking my sex. He paused just inside the doorway, then slowly raked his gaze over me, starting at my toes and then moving up to meet my eyes.
"How very bold you've become, blondie."
How right he was. I was shameless with this man. Wanting everything, and more than willing to play dirty to get what I wanted.
Right then, I was playing as dirty as I knew how. I arched my back, spread my legs just a bit wider, and slowly thrust two fingers deep inside myself. "I was hoping to give you ideas," I said. "Like subliminal suggestions."
His mouth twitched. "Oh, really?"
"I want you to fuck me, Cole. I want your cock inside me." I moved my hips in time with my fingers, and saw the way that he watched the show--and the way he was watching got me even hotter. "I intend to get what I want. I promise you, I can be very persuasive."
"I bet you can," he said. He put the wine and the glasses on a nearby table and took a single step toward me. "I believe I told you to come in here, get undressed, and lay down on the bed while I went and got some wine."
"You said that," I admitted. "I think I mentioned that I've never been very good at following the rules."
"I assume you know what happens to girls who are naughty?" He gave the drawstring on his sweats a tug, then let them fall from his hips to the ground. He stepped out of them, then walked naked toward me, fully erect, huge, and intimidating as hell.
I swallowed, then shifted my gaze up from his cock to his face. I stood up and walked toward him. "Just so you know, I intend to be even more naughty."
I put my hands on his hips, then sank to my knees in front of him. Slowly--so deliciously slowly--I ran my tongue along the length of his erection, pausing to pay special attention to the tip.
He shuddered, then moaned, then said my name, his voice hoarse and full of longing. I didn't reply. Instead, I drew him in, then tasted him, teased him--took him as far as I could.
I clutched his ass with my hands, felt the way his hands twined in my hair, the way he took control of my head and the rhythm of my thrusts, making me go farther and deeper than I had been.
I liked it--knowing I was making him harder. Hotter. Knowing that he wanted this and that it was me who was making his pleasure grow, making this tension and passion build up so hard and so fast. He was close--so damn close. I could tell from the tightness of his body and the way his fingers tightened in my hair. I could tell from the tempo of his breath and the way small shudders burst through his body, radiating all the way through me.
He was going to come--and damned if knowing that didn't make me even hotter. I was so wet, so turned on that I thought I might come, too, simply from the pleasure of knowing that I took Cole August over the edge.
And then, without warning, he stepped back, pulling me off him so that I was sitting on my heels, gasping and wet and desperate to finish him off. To feel him explode and know that I did that--that I brought him there.
"On the bed," he said, his voice all command and sensuality.
I must have hesitated, because he took my arm and lifted me to my feet, then slid his hand between my legs to stroke my sex. My knees went weak, and I sank onto his hand, so it was only the pressure of his palm cupping my sex that kept me from falling.
"Mine," he said, then thrust two fingers inside me. "Christ, Kat, do you know how much I want you? How hard I'm going to fuck you?"
"Show me," I said, and he lifted me up and put me on the bed. I lay on my back, but he made a circular motion with his finger. "Knees and elbows. Legs spread. I want to see your cunt. I want to see how wet you are, how much you want me. And I want to see your ass turn red when I spank you."
I felt something shift and tighten inside me as I complied. Anticipation, yes. Longing, most definitely. But a little bit of fear, too. Because there was an intensity in his voice that hadn't been there when he'd spanked me earlier, and that hint of fear--of not knowing what was coming or what he had planned--made me all the more excited.
"Oh, baby." His hands stroked the globes of my rear, and I bit my lower lip as he spread me wide then slid his hand down to find me drenched and wanting. "Right here," he said, teasing me with his finger. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, baby. Tell me that's what you want."
"Yes." I could barely get the word out past the storm of emotion rattling through me.
"Tell me," he said. "I want you to say it."
"I want you to fuck me, Cole. Please."
"I think you can do better than that," he said, sliding his fingertip down to flick lightly over my clit. I gasped, as sparks and shocks raced over my skin. My nipples burned they were so hard, and my sex throbbed with a need so desperate I wasn't sure that he could ever fuck me long enough or hard enough to satisfy.
"Kat," he urged, thrusting his finger back inside me, then trailing his drenched fingertip up to tease my anus.
I sucked in air. "I want your cock. I want you to hold me tight and thrust into me. I want it hard, Cole. I want you to pound inside me, over and over, until I can't stand it anymore. And then I want to explode."
"What else?"
"Oh, god, isn't that enough?"
He chuckled. "Frustrated, baby?"
"You know I am."
"Then stop teasing, and tell me."
I realized what he wanted me to say. What he'd told me he wanted to do. And, yes, what I wanted as well. "I want you to spank me."
"Why?"
"Cole . . ." I shifted, feeling open and exposed, and not just because I was naked with his hand between my legs.
I waited for him to say something else, but he stayed silent, and I knew that this was part of my punishment, too--exposing myself to Cole. Not my body, but my whole self. My desires. My everything.
"I liked the way it felt," I admitted, my voice so soft I knew he was having to work to hear it. "There was pain, but it was so sharp and so pure--and I was already so turned on that it was like--like it was bigger than pain. Like it was electricity, and it was sparking through me, making the whole experience bigger and fuller. I don't know," I finished lamely. "I just know I liked it. And," I added before he could ask, "I want more. I want harder, Cole. I want to go farther. I want to go there with you."
I waited for his reply. For him to tell me that I'd said what he wanted. Or, god help me, for him to demand I reveal even more of myself to him.
But Cole was done with words. Instead, his palm lightly stroked my rear. I sighed, relishing the pleasure of his touch. But I tensed, too, because I was certain that I knew what was coming.
He didn't disappoint, and soon his hand landed on my rear with a hard smack. As before, I felt the sting, and gasped in surprise and pain. But then his hand smoothed out the rough edges and those sweet sparks buzzed through me. And then he did it again and again, alternating his blows to get both of my ass cheeks, finding a rhythm that soon had me almost floating and gasping--and my sex throbbing in demanding, unfulfilled longing.
"Now," Cole said, when the sparks had so consumed me that I felt like I was made of nothing more than electricity. He took my hips and tugged me toward him so that he was standing at the foot of the bed, the tip of his cock pressed against me. "I'm clean," he said. "I've been tested. But do you want me to use a condom?"
"No. No, I want to feel you." I was on the pill, so I wasn't worried about pregnancy, and I knew I was clean, too. But I appreciated his control, especially considering I hadn't even thought about protection, I'd been so caught up in the haze of desire.
"Good," he said. "You're so wet, baby." And then, as if to prove it, he thrust inside me. Slowly at first, and then, when he was buried to the hilt, he drew out and then slammed hard into me, just the way I'd asked.
I gasped, losing myself to the sensation of him filling me. Of his hands on my hips guiding me. Of the way his body exploded against mine, making my undoubtedly red ass fire even more with each thrust.
"Touch yourself," he said, his voice tight with the effort of holding back what was surely a rising storm. "Touch yourself and come with me."
I shifted my weight to one elbow so I could comply, then slipped my hand between my legs and teased myself with small circles, letting the sensation build, knowing that he was claiming me totally and completely--and losing myself to the pleasure of that sweet and decadent reality.
He exploded then, his fingers digging hard enough into my hips to bruise--and that was just enough to send me over, too. He waited for the shudders to die down, both his and mine, then pulled out and slid onto the bed, pulling me into his arms as we both lay there and looked into each other's eyes, our sated bod
ies touching and his fingers stroking idly over my naked and sensitive flesh.
"You're amazing," he said.
"You make me feel amazing."
His lips brushed my forehead, and before my sleep-heavy eyes finally closed, I saw satisfaction in his warm, dark eyes.
I laid on my back on the warm sand, feeling the surf rush up to my toes, then recede, cooling my overheated flesh.
My eyes were closed, and Cole was beside me, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on my skin, teasing my breasts, sliding down to my sex.
One finger slipped inside me, and I drew in air as heat from the sun and this man consumed me.
A shadow fell over me as he shifted, momentarily blocking the sun. Then he gently spread my legs apart, his palms stroking upward, the movement slow and teasing.
And then I felt the smallest flick of his tongue over my sex, but enough to make me arch up, wanting more. Needing more.
Dear god, he didn't disappoint.
His mouth closed over me. His tongue teasing and tasting. Laving me, playing me, bringing me closer and closer and closer until--
It wasn't him--oh, Christ, it wasn't him.
Not Cole but Roger. Sixteen years old, with dark hair and droopy eyes and soft fingers that played with my sex, groping and exploring, as I lay there, frozen and scared and turned on, with all the sensations building and building inside me, but I had to hold them back. Had to keep quiet and still. Had to keep the secret because--
Because--
Because if I didn't, then--
I came awake with a gasp, but kept my eyes closed.
I was on my back, my legs spread, and I could feel the warm heat of Cole's tongue on my clit, teasing and playing. I wanted to pull him up, to cry out for him to stop.
I wanted to do that, but I didn't want to explain. Didn't want him to see the secret on my face.
And oh, dear god, as he played and teased my clit with his tongue, I couldn't deny that I didn't want to stop him because it felt too damn good.
So I stayed there, legs spread, Cole's mouth so intimate upon me, his expert tongue doing amazing things, and the whole world reduced to this tiny point of pleasure that began as a single spot between my legs and would soon grow and grow until it had no choice but to explode.
And I would explode. I knew it. Hadn't Cole taken me there already? Over and over and over?