Cole (Hunting Her)

by Eden Summers

  “I wasn’t being coy. I pointed it out because you didn’t make sense. You never do. It’s all smoke and mirrors. I don’t understand you.”

  “That’s another lie. You know me. You understand my motivations. You even agree with a lot of them—”

  “No.”

  “Yes. You’re fucking strong. You’ve never succumbed to my manipulations, as you like to call them. Or been tricked. Or unwillingly persuaded. You’ve given yourself to me, over and over again, because what I represent is familiar to the parts of yourself you try to hide. You like to think you’ve been fighting me this whole time. But the truth is, you’ve been fighting how much this feels like home. You’ve been battling your natural instincts. You’ve waged war with who you’re meant to be.”

  “No.” She slides from the bed and starts for the door. “Believe what you want but that’s not true.”

  “Is that why you’re running?” I drawl. “Because I’m wrong?”

  She pauses at the threshold, back straight, shoulders stiff.

  “Tell me, Nis, if I haven’t got you pegged, why are you fleeing? Why not stay and prove me wrong?”

  “Because there’s no proving anything with you.” She turns toward me. “You’re always right.”

  I sit up. “If that were the case, you never would’ve returned from Greece to fuck another man, because I sure as shit didn’t see that coming.”

  She winces.

  “I wouldn’t have ever expected you to move on with someone who’s my complete opposite,” I snarl. “Someone who isn’t worthy of you. Someone who could never give you what you want.”

  “Don’t talk about Easton.”

  “Why not?” I throw back the covers and slide from the bed. “Does the reality of your pathetic sex life upset you?”

  “I never fucked him,” she snaps.

  My heart skips a beat. “No? You’re telling me he practically lived in your apartment, but never had the balls to make a move?” I storm toward her, needing to see her lying eyes up close and personal.

  “You said it yourself.” She hikes her chin. “He’s the exact opposite of you. He’s a gentleman.”

  “So you made love? You didn’t fuck?” My disappointment is stifling. I get in her face, wanting to taste her, to fucking claim her. My cock thickens with the need, painfully engorged. “I bet it was mediocre after what we shared.”

  She sucks in a breath, her shoulders hiking farther.

  “If you would’ve come back to me I would’ve fucked you until your bones ached.” I wrap an arm around her waist and haul her into me, pressing my dick into her abdomen. “If I always got my fucking way, little fox, you wouldn’t have risen from your back since the night you returned.”

  “Because this is only about sex for you.” She doesn’t fight my hold. Not aggressively. Her only show of resistance is the way she leans away. “You claim I’m everything. But it’s purely lust. You need to get laid more often.”

  My smirk increases. “Trust me, my sex life before you was envious.”

  I’ve bedded women who wanted nothing more than to earn my favor through my dick. By gold-diggers who thought they could win a lifetime worth of paid bills and extravagances if only they fucked me good enough.

  And none compare to her.

  “You’re toxic.” She looks me in the eye. “One hundred percent pure poison.”

  Slowly, I raise my arm, teasing my fingers up her neck to grab her hair in a tight fist. I drag her forward, her lips almost against mine. “And you’re a bitch. Which makes us a perfect match.”

  She shudders.

  Her enjoyment is always evident whenever I touch her. Rough or gentle. Harsh or soft. She loves it all.

  “Now, tell me you want me.” I nip at her lips, breathing her fractured inhales. “Tell me you want to be fucked.”

  She shakes her head.

  “Do you think I won’t slide my fingers back into your panties to feel the evidence of what you’re denying?” I run my other hand down the curve of her waist, then along the elastic band of her pajamas. “Come back to me.”

  “No.” She grips my wrist. “Not like this.”

  “Then how?”

  She continues shaking her head, her brows pinching. “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do.” I creep my hand lower, forcing myself into her panties. “You know exactly what you want. All you need to do is ask.”

  “Stop. This isn’t what I want.” Her nails dig into my skin and she pushes me backward. My fingers reluctantly leave her.

  Fuck.

  I could’ve sworn she was malleable tonight. I would’ve bet my life she’d be a willing participant.

  I huff out a laugh. I guess I don’t know her like I thought.

  “I don’t want this.” She keeps shaking her head at me. “I can’t live like this.”

  “I’ve made you feel good before—”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” Her expression turns pained, her bleak eyes all the more tortured in the dim light. “I can’t live with lies and threats. Yes, the adrenaline is euphoric. And the sex was incredible. But everything else is…” She throws her arms up at her sides. “The fighting. The bickering. The constant cat and mouse game—”

  “You enjoy that as much as I do.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s healthy… And then there’s my job.”

  Fuck this. I turn away, my cock’s eagerness vanishing at the mention of her career.

  She thinks she loves the Bureau. So why hasn’t she gone back? Why has she remained on leave since we were together?

  Denial, that’s why.

  “We can’t exist, Cole. I enjoy my job too much.”

  I grind my teeth, clench my fists.

  “That’s all there is to it,” she adds as if her words are a royal flush to win this argument.

  “Your job is bullshit,” I mutter under my breath. I seethe the words. “Your job is nothing but a scam. We’ve gone over how you’re a puppet for the hierarchy which manipulates the constitution for its own gain.” I swing around to face her. “You’re not saving the world one criminal at a time. You’re a meaningless soldier helping more powerful criminals.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “You don’t expect me to understand?” Holy shit, she’s fucking demeaning me? “If you had any idea of the corruption in your office alone you’d realize your badge is worthless. Everyone can be bought.”

  “Not me.”

  “Not you?” I snicker. “How about Greece? How about when I offered you the chance to take down a criminal, illegally, and you took it?”

  Her eyes narrow. “That’s different.”

  “How is it any different than if I’d paid you? You went against the law to obtain an illegal outcome.”

  She stands her ground, her ferocity building.

  “And I could help you do it over and over again. If justice is your calling, true justice, then work with me. Work without confinement under my protection.”

  “No.”

  “Why? Give me one reason.”

  “They’re my family.”

  “Like hell they are.” I get in her face. “They treat you like shit. They ostracized you because of your father. Apart from Easton, whose only goal is to remain between your thighs, not one of them cares about you.”

  Her expression crumples.

  “I’m the family you’re meant to have. I’m the home you need to seek comfort in.”

  She stares at me for long moments, blinks those thick lashes. “Comfort? Is that what you think I get from Hunter’s animosity? And what about Decker’s seething hatred? Every single one of your family despises me.”

  I guide my hand around her waist and she trembles beneath my hold. “They’re scared of you.” I lean close, grazing my cheek over hers to whisper in her ear. “You’re fucking fierce. They know you’re a force to be reckoned with. What you see as animosity and hatred I know to be respect.”

  She shakes her
head.

  “It’s true.” I breathe her in, the scent of soap and sweet shampoo sinking deep into my lungs. “If you’d told them you were mine, they’d welcome you.”

  “You’re a liar.” She tilts her face away. But all it does is give me better access to her neck.

  “You’re my queen.” I speak against her carotid, the pebble of goose bumps rising against my lips. “We’re your family.”

  This is me begging. Pleading.

  I don’t do that for anyone.

  Anyone but her.

  I’ll swallow all my pride for this woman. I’ll get on my knees. Grovel. Slit my wrists at the shrine of her existence if it means seating her in the rightful place by my side.

  I scrape my teeth along her neck. Kiss her jaw. Palm her face.

  “It’s not right.” She keeps shaking her head. “This isn’t right.”

  “Maybe not.” I drag my lips along her skin. I nip and suck, drawing gasps from her throat, trembles from her body. “But then why does it feel so good?”

  19

  Anissa

  He’s wrong. This doesn’t feel good. It goes beyond that. Over and above.

  When I’m with him, our bodies close, it seems the rest of the world exists only for us to be together. The perfection of his touch makes it hard to imagine being like this is anything other than heaven-sent.

  But the devil was sent to tempt weak souls and I’ve proven to be the most feeble.

  I place my hands on his shoulders and add pressure, hoping he’ll back away.

  He doesn’t.

  My lack of adamance seems to spur him to grab me tighter, stronger, his other arm snaking around my waist to hold me against his chest.

  I whimper, wanting this and hating it, too. “I’m not like you,” I whisper.

  I wish I could live on sensation alone, not giving thought to morality. But once the pleasure fades and the panted breaths subside, I’ll be left to wallow in self-loathing. It happens every time.

  “I agree, to an extent.” He brushes my lips with his fingers, the soft scrape of sensation grazing against aching nerves. “You’re far better than I deserve. You’re the light to my darkness.”

  “I don’t want you to be dark.”

  He slides a fingertip into my mouth, only slightly, teasing the tip of my tongue. “Yes, you do.”

  I shudder. Tremble.

  That finger in my mouth… his hard cock against my abdomen… the unrelenting strength of his chest against my breasts.

  I close my eyes as his finger retreats, his mouth taking its place. He commands me with a punishing kiss, stealing my breath and my common sense.

  Everything is his for the taking, including my body, which he leans down to scoop into his arms. He carries me back to the bed. Morality becomes the tiniest voice in my head, the words of warning no longer heard over the screaming desire.

  He sits me on the mattress and grabs my ankles, swinging me around to face him towering above me. He stands entirely naked, remarkably hard, without one hint of insecurity. Not that I’d expect anything other than arrogant confidence from him. Not when he’s carved from stone. Every muscle etched. Every limb strong.

  He leans in to steal another kiss, his lips manipulating mine in a flawless dance of victory and possession. It’s pure bliss. Torture, too.

  Adamant hands grab my waistband, those fierce fingers gripping my pants and underwear to strip them from my body.

  I should protest. I should open my goddamn mouth and stop this. But even the contemplation is laughable.

  I’m lost to him. I always have been.

  My surrender has never been more apparent than it is now as he holds my gaze despite my partial nudity.

  “We’re meant to be together.” He spreads my legs apart, places a knee between my thighs, and forces me to lie down with the sheer intimidation of his approaching body. “I can’t live without you.”

  Rough hands find my hips, skimming upward, dragging my top along with them. He exposes every inch to his hungry eyes, his adoration speaking silently in his tight expression.

  I love the way he looks at me. I always have. As if he’s starved and I’m his sole sustenance. But his attention only remains on my body momentarily before those eyes are back on mine.

  He tugs my top over my chest, my neck, my head. In brief moments, I’m completely bare before him. At his mercy. My breathing hard to control.

  “You don’t know how many sleepless nights I’ve spent remembering your beauty.” He hovers above me, one hand stabilizing his weight while the other relearns my curves. “You’ll always be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  My heart weakens. Crumples.

  He strokes the outer curve of my breast, then underneath, and over my stomach. He holds my gaze, his focus wild and intense.

  “There will never be another woman for me,” he vows. “There hasn’t been since the moment we met.”

  I hear an unspoken admonishment in his admission. Or maybe it’s just guilt that has me thinking he’s silently accusing me of a lack of reciprocation because of Easton. The anguish lashes me regardless.

  I didn’t betray him.

  Not the way he thinks.

  But I’m compelled to seek his forgiveness.

  I wrap my hand around his neck and drag his mouth back to mine. I give him my apology through the connection of eager lips. Beg for absolution in that kiss.

  He matches my passion, resting his weight into me, the adamant length of his cock pressing hard into my pubic bone.

  We act like teenagers. Making out. Engaging in heavy petting. Gasping for panted breaths.

  He grinds his erection against me, his hand still roaming my skin, his fingers digging into my ass.

  I moan, cupping his cheeks, forcing the kiss so much deeper. I can’t get enough.

  I claw at his hair. His shoulders. I wrap my legs around his waist and squeeze tight enough that the groan emanating in his chest rumbles through my ribs.

  “You’re mine, Nissa.” He speaks into my mouth. “Always mine.”

  He reaches between us to grab his cock. It’s all the prelude I get before he shoves inside me, the delicious severity making my back arch off the bed.

  He thrusts hard. Over and over. Not once stopping his assault on my mouth.

  It’s too much. The pleasure. The consumption.

  He touches every part of me. My heart. My soul.

  This is why I couldn’t forget him. This, right here, is why I can’t move on.

  This man, with his overwhelming power and undermining determination, treats me like a goddess. Like his next breath depends on my existence.

  He’s rabid for me, and the potency of his hunger is contagious.

  “Please, don’t stop.” I kiss him over and over, luxuriating in his groans, demanding more of his severity.

  I pulse my hips in time with his, squeezing my legs harder around him.

  When he pulls back, claiming a nipple with his scorching mouth, I hiss through the burst of tingles. They’re everywhere, the sensation awakening all my nerve endings.

  He pays both breasts homage, licking, sucking, never stopping his thrusting assault on my pussy.

  I’m a writhing, mindless mess by the time he grabs my waist and moves off the bed, his cock still inside me as he guides my ass to rest at the edge of the mattress.

  “This time, I’m taking you fast and hard.” His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass. “Next time, you’ll be savored.”

  Next time.

  The thought of a reoccurrence brings hope and fear. I can’t commit to more. I can’t even commit to a single sensible thought around him.

  “Yes, you heard me.” He reads my mind, his gaze narrowing. “Next time, you’ll be savored. And the time after that. And the time after that, too.”

  He grips my knees, holding them at his sides as he slams into me.

  Hard.

  Vicious.

  I claw at the bedding, needing something to cling to wh
ile he groans with the repeated impact, his eyes rolling.

  Pleasure is everywhere. In my aching breasts. Tingling down my neck. No place pulsing harder than my pussy.

  “I need more,” I beg.

  More words. More touch. More possession.

  “And you’ll get it,” he promises. “You’ll get everything you want.”

  I believe him. Right here, with my body at his mercy and my soul within his grasp, I unequivocally believe him.

  He splays a hand over my abdomen, his thumb sliding to my clit. I gasp with the wave of bliss, my core clenching, my muscles tensing. I could come already. My mind was well within orgasm territory before he laid a hand on me. Now my body has caught up, the eager need for release growing into an obsession.

  I rock into each of his thrusts and squeeze my core every time his cock slides home. I shake my head, overwhelmed, out of breath. “Cole.”

  He doesn’t quit devouring me with his gaze, wordlessly complimenting me with the hunger in his eyes.

  He makes me feel adored. Cherished. I never have to question my worth when we’re together this way because he stares at me like I’m his entire world.

  His universe.

  With the next retreat of his cock, he moves his thumb lower, sliding it inside me as he thrusts home. The delicious stretch of my core pulls a gasp from my throat. The friction of his palm against my clit brings mindlessness.

  I pant. Whimper.

  He doesn’t stop fucking me. His rhythm only increases—harder, faster—as his thumb remains hooked inside me.

  “Give me what I want,” he demands. “Come on my dick.”

  I couldn’t deny him even if I wanted to. I unravel, my neck and back arching, my core spasming with each thrust.

  I don’t cry his name, even though I want to. I keep the pleas locked inside as wave upon wave of pleasure wracks me. It’s all I can do not to blurt my unwanted feelings as he releases inside me, his animalistic display far more erotic than I remember.

  I wanted this.

  I needed it.

  But regret inevitably hits me before the pleasure truly subsides. He’s thrusting with the last of his release when I reach rock bottom.