The pain and pleasure mingled, becoming one. In stunned shock, she stared up at him.
The sound of her scream managed to penetrate the fog of lust, the burn of need. Shaking his head to clear it, Cole braced his arms by her head and stared at Rocki.
Tears glittered in her eyes.
Fuck-
Oh, fuck. He'd hurt her.
"Rocki..."
She gripped his arms. "I..." She licked her lips. "Just give me a minute," she whispered hoarsely. "It's been a long time. Give me..."
"Fuck." He knew it had been a while—and he'd slammed into her like a fucking freight train. "I'm sorry. I'll stop...I'll..."
"No." She brought up her legs, using her knees to squeeze his hips. "You're not stopping. Just give me a minute."
"Rocki..."
Her lips curved in a smile as she curled one hand around his neck, tugging him close. "A minute doesn't mean stop, baby." Kissing him softly, she rocked against him and whispered, "And you're not listening to me. I don't want you stopping. I want you moving. Move already."
Guilt was choking him. He'd hurt her. Fuck, he'd never hurt a woman in his life, and he'd hurt her. With a hand that shook, he brushed her hair back from her face. "I'm sorry."Rocki closed her fingers around his wrist, staring at him. "You'll be even sorrier if you don't move already...I'm dying here." She wiggled under him and then—oh, shit, she tightened her inner muscles, milking him.
Sweat trickled down his spine and he shuddered. Sagging against her, he pressed his lips to hers. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't."
Hell, he hoped not. Lifting his head just a fraction, he stared into her eyes, watching her face as he pulled out. That taunting, teasing smile of hers faded, replaced by a moan when he surged back against her, slower this time.
Gentle. And all the while, he watched her.
He could do it forever, he suspected. Forever might not even be long enough. He didn't even care how insane it sounded, because this woman made him feel complete.
Like a slick, wet, glove, her sex wrapped around him. Like she'd been created from his midnight fantasy, she responded to his every touch, his every move. And when he felt it rising inside her, that building, burgeoning tension, he lifted up onto his elbows, determined to watch her, determined to see her face as she came.
It was still dark when Rocki woke.
Her body ached—every damn inch. It had her smiling, even as she stretched and winced. Slipping out of the bed, she all but ran to the bathroom.
There was nothing worse than having to pee at the crack of dawn. Getting out of a nice, warm bed to freeze your butt and everything else off?
Although she didn't mind so much waking up a little early. Maybe even a lot early.
After she'd washed her hands, she splashed water on her face, and since she hadn't exactly planned on spending the night, she used her finger to brush her teeth the best she could. It wasn't ideal, but then again, neither was morning breath. If she'd had any inkling this would happen, she would have tossed some of those little on-the-go toothbrush thingies in her purse.
That done, she turned off the light before she opened the door. If at all possible, Rocki wanted him asleep when she joined him in the bed. There was nothing like waking a man up in a particular way ...
The bed was warm, the sheets smelling of them both. It was a scent she decided she liked. A lot. As she snuggled in closer, a grin curved her lips when his arm came around her, an automatic gesture that had her heart melting. She peered at him in the darkness, straining to see his face. His eyes were closed, breathing still soft and easy.
Catching her lip between her teeth, she eased down under the blankets.
Dreaming-
Cole thought, for the briefest second, maybe he was dreaming. He had one hand buried in soft, thick hair, hair long enough to wrap around his wrist...and he'd done that, too, using his grip to guide her head.
Thought for a second he was dreaming, and damned if he wanted to wake up.
But then that wet, hot mouth that had been wrapped around his aching dick let go. The blankets shifted and through the dim light, he watched as Rocki lifted up onto all fours, the light from the street painting her body with silvery strokes.
"Hey." She smiled at him, then went to lower her head back down.
He groaned at the sight of her mouth wrapping around him. In an act of self-preservation, he tore his gaze away, but what he found himself staring at wasn't any safer. The mirror. The fucking mirror over his dresser. He could see the graceful line of her back, her ripe ass in the mirror...and just a bit lower, the darker, shadowy cleft of her pussy. His dick jerked demandingly.
Swearing, he reached out blindly with his free hand and grabbed at one of the few rubbers left.
The other hand was still fisted in her hair, and without thinking, he tugged her up. Her breath caught. Slowly, she lifted and settled back on her heels, staring at him. Her breathing hitched.
Awareness kicked in and he tugged her hair harder, using it to arch her head back, baring her neck. She whimpered. The sound of it was blissfully, beautifully erotic. He wanted to explore more—something they hadn't done nearly enough of.
But need was a scream inside him.
Tearing the rubber open, he unrolled it and then he moved, coming up behind Rocki. He nudged her around, staring at her shadowed reflection.
Her mouth was open, shaky erratic breaths falling from her lips. With a slow, careful touch, he rested one hand on her shoulder, stroking it downward.
Her eyes rested on his hand.
Then he placed his other hand on her hip.
Rocki fell back against him. When he pushed two fingers inside her pussy, she whimpered. "I like watching myself touch you," he muttered, staring at their reflections. "You're so damned gorgeous."
Rocki panted, rocking her hips against his hand.
"How do you like being touched?"
She groaned. "I don't think you need my help." She moved harder, faster against his touch, riding it.
Wet—she was wet, wild...amazing.
Still staring at her, he tested the weight of her breast with his other hand. Warm, full and soft—so damn soft. He squeezed her nipple. "What about here?" He bent his neck, raking his teeth over her shoulder. "You want to be touched here? How?"
"Cole..." she whimpered his name.
"Tell me. Show me."
She covered his hand with hers. Smaller fingers guided his, and they both watched as she had him squeezing tighter, just a little tighter. And she continued to ride his other hand.
When he felt her tighten around his fingers, though, he pulled away.
Rocki cried out, grasping at his wrist.
He evaded her, lifting his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.
Then he tangled his hand in her hair and tugged her head back, kissing her. It was rougher, rougher than before, but from under his lashes, he watched her.
She shuddered and arched back against him, pressing her ass against his cock.
The top of his head almost came off.
Tearing his mouth away, he rasped, "On your hands and knees, Rocki. I want to watch this."
"You want to kill me." She shuddered and then eased forward, bracing her weight on her hands, spreading her knees for him. Then she lifted her head, watching him through the mirror.
Cole stared at the round curve of her ass, up over the line of her back, then into the mirror, meeting her eyes. As he gripped her hips in his hands, he watched her. As he pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, he watched.
"Are you sore?" he asked.
Her lashes dipped low. "Just a little. I don't care."
He eased backward, pushing his fingers inside. She was slick. Slick and wet, tight, gripping him as he tested her. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I want you to fuck me...I don't care if it hurts a little or not." Rocki gave him a wicked smile, one that would have turned his blood to lava if she hadn't already done
that.
"Bad girl," he whispered. "Damn it, why didn't I ever see the appeal of that before now?"
"Hmm. Maybe because you hadn't met me?"
He didn't waste the breath to answer. Staring down, he wrapped his hand around his cock and pressed against her, watching in the dim light as the swollen folds of her sex yielded to him. Hot, slick...so soft it was killing him. He was shuddering by the time he'd buried himself to the hilt, shaking and sweating when he pulled out for the first time. And already almost to boiling point in under thirty seconds.
But he held off, spreading his hands wide over her hips and holding her steady when she tried to drive the rhythm.
When she pressed back against him harder, faster, he tangled his hand in her hair and forced her upright, pulling her body against him. She gasped and stared at their reflections, her eyes dark, her mouth parted. It was the most erotic sight. "Look at how beautiful you are," he rasped, stroking a hand down her middle and teasing her clit with his finger as he rocked against her in a slow, teasing circle. "Stop trying to rush this."
She tightened around him, grasping at his wrist, a startled cry falling from her lips. "Cole, please—damn it, please!" She arched her back and those full, beautiful breasts lifted, her nipples swollen and tight. At the same time, she twisted her hips a little, still impaled on his cock.
Swearing, he shifted, pushing her to her knees and then farther, until she was spread out beneath him. He surged against her, hard, fast, driving his dick into her soft, wet pussy and shaking as she cried out his name and started to come.
It was, Cole knew, the sweetest damn thing he'd ever experienced.
What he didn't know was how he'd gone this long without it—or how he'd ever manage to survive without this...without her.
Rocki woke to the smell of coffee.
Popping one eye open, she stared at the simple white mug sitting on the bedside table. Then she opened the other eye and saw Cole leaning against the bed, cradling his own coffee.
"Is that cup mine?" she asked blearily.
"Yes. If you want it."
"I want." Awkwardly fighting with the sheets, she sat up and reached for it, cupping both hands around it and all but whimpering at the smell. "Caffeine. Gimme. I want."
Cole laughed.
As she took the first sip, he stroked a hand down her back, combing it through her tangled hair. She was afraid to even look at it just then, afraid to look at herself. He, of course, looked perfect.
"A fellow caffeine junkie." He grinned at her after she'd polished off most of the first cup.
"Nothing beats caffeine as a wake-me-up. Except maybe sex." She slid him a smile as she said it.
"Nah. Sex always beats caffeine." The hand on her back stroked lower, curved around her hip.
Her heart skipped a beat as he sat his cup down and went to his knees. "Speaking of which..."
She needed to wash her face, damn it. She needed to pee. She should probably brush her teeth again. And she was a little sore.
But all he did was rest his head on her thigh and rub his thumb in slow circles over her knee. "How are you feeling?"
"Um...I'm fine." If you don't mind me getting a little choked up here, she thought. Swallowing around the knot in her throat, she lifted a hand and let herself play with his golden hair. "Stop worrying so much. I've had sex before, you know. It just hasn't been recently."
"Hmm." He pressed his lips against her leg. "I just want to make sure. Because I damn sure plan on keeping that first date. And the second."
"You're really fixated on that second date, huh?" She managed to get a real smile in place by the time he lifted his head, managed not to look so wishy-washy and sentimental—not even a date, yet, hello.
But her heart wasn't much listening to reason, and it didn't help when he stood up and braced a knee next to her on the bed, cupping her face in his hand. "Is it going to scare you away if I tell you I'm already fixating on the fifth date? The tenth?"
"Ahhh..." She stared at him, blinking. Fifth...tenth?
He stroked his thumb over her lip. "Is that a yes? Do I need to slow it down?"
"I don't know." She leaned away long enough to set her coffee down, then she wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling her head against him.
"Part of me is thinking I'm already rushing it. The other part of me feels like...hell. I feel like I've been missing this for a long time."
They stood that way for a long, long while, his hand stroking her hand, her face pressed to his belly. Then she sighed. "Maybe we're rushing it a little. We can rush it for as long as it feels right. If we need to pull back, then I guess we'll know."
Chapter Eight
"No news, I take it?"
Five days had passed with no new incidents...and no answers.
Clayton stood with Rocki in her shop, looking terribly uncomfortable and terribly out of place, especially with his sister standing a few feet away and holding up a new, modified corset that Rocki was putting out for the spring line.
With his face a brilliant shade of red, he deliberately turned his back on Lacey and said, "No. No news. There weren't any prints on the box that we can link to Dwayne. Nobody reports seeing anybody fitting his description in the area. For the past five years, he's lived in Seiverville—quite a ways from here."
A ways, but still drivable, she thought. She'd rather just know one way or the other if it had been her ex who'd left the destroyed flowers, who'd sent the pictures.
"You haven't gotten any new deliveries? No new cards?"
"No, Clayton." She sighed and pushed her hair back.
He stared at her, a familiar look on his square face. Seconds ticked by and he didn't blink.
"Damn it, you moron." Irritated by the staring contest, Rocki shoved off the counter. "I said I'd tell you if anything happened and I meant it. There haven't been any cards, any deliveries, not anything."
He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. "Sorry. It's just..." His voice trailed off.
But the look in his eyes said everything. Rocki turned away, pressed a hand to her belly. "Clayton, I'm not ignoring this. I know how serious it is."
"Do you?"
She looked back over her shoulder, trying to ignore the ache in her chest at the look in his eyes. But she couldn't ignore the fear that lived inside her, couldn't ignore the nerves or the anxiety. "Yes. I do."
"But—"
Lacey came up to stand between them, and Rocki could see the indecision on her face. She wanted to side with both of them—her brother and his fear for Rocki, and Rocki, as well, because Rocki damn well knew Lacey likely wouldn't have handled things much differently.
Lacey laid a hand on Clayton's arm and said, "Ease up, bub. She's being careful, okay?"
"Careful isn't always enough." Clayton shook his head. "Rocki—"
"No." She held up a hand, cutting him off. "I don't want to hear this. You think I don't realize how badly I screwed up back then? I do, I get it. I screwed up then when I didn't report him. It won't happen again."
"You sure about that?"
"Damn it, Clayton," Lacey snapped. "Enough."
"No." Rocki shook her head, barely sparing Lacey a look. "This is between us now, Lacey. I appreciate the concern, but I can handle it." Setting her jaw, she focused on Clayton, barely resisting the urge to throw something. At his head—that thick, rock-hard skull. "You think I don't realize how serious this is."
"I'm pretty damn certain you don't."
"And I'm pretty damn certain I do." Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at him.
"Then why didn't you call when things first started getting weird?"
Rocki shoved both hands into her hair and tugged, a strangled scream escaping her. "Damn it, Clayton, you're being an asshole, you know that? I got some fucking cards. Unsigned, with pictures of me. That was it. There was nothing written on them, nothing said. If I'd done anything, then a report would have been filed...and if it had been a cop who didn't know me takin
g the report? I would have been brushed off and you damn well know it. As soon as I had something sort of concrete, I called."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Clayton mumbled under his breath.
"What?"
Lowering his hand, he glared at her. "Part of me is pissed off knowing that you may be right."
"I know I am."
"The other part is thinking that you're a cop's wife..." He paused, cleared his throat. "You were a cop's wife. You know what to say, when to say, how to say it to make them take you seriously, Rock. And damn it, you could have just found out when I was on shift. You know I'm always there when you need me."
"I do know that. And when I did need help, you were the one I called," she said, her voice gentle. Sighing, she made herself think past the anger, the fear, the nerves. This was Clayton, her friend for so many years.
She'd known him for as long as she'd known Lacey. He'd always been there for her. She knew he worried. "Clay, try to understand...I was doing what I thought was right—trying to be careful without jumping to conclusions."
He looked down, staring at the battered little leather notebook he carried in his jacket pocket. But she suspected he wasn't paying any attention to the notes he'd made. His shoulders rose and fell on a sigh and then he looked up, his gaze locking with hers. "I know that, Rock. I just worry. I don't want to see you hurt."
"I don't want to see me hurt, either." She forced herself to smile. "Hurt, bad. I get that."
He skimmed a hand back through his hair. "Lady, I hope you do. Okay, then. So you'll call if you need me, right? No matter how small a thing it seems?"
"Absolutely." And she meant it. She was not going to be a victim again. It wasn't going to happen.
"Alright. I don't like this, not any of it. But alright." He blew out a breath. A forced smile came and went on his face. "So. You still seeing that lawyer or did you at least wise up on that level?"
Until then, Lacey had kept quiet, but now she groaned and said, "Damn it, Clayton, leave her love life out of it." She made a face at Rocki. "I think he's still hung up on you and having issues. Just ignore him."
Bound Temptations: Stories of Temptation and Submission Page 8