by Tracy Wolff
Moving slowly, he covered her body with his own. She grabbed on to him, her sobs harsh, her body racked with the aftereffects of the night they’d spent together.
He rolled to his side and gathered her quaking body against his own. Ran a soothing hand down the smooth curve of her spine. Buried his fingers in the soft, strawberry-scented curls that surrounded her face. And let her take as much—or as little—of him as she needed.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, lying there while she recovered her equilibrium. He liked to keep his partners off balance, needed to keep the scales tipped in his favor. But Genevieve was as much a control freak as he was, and he had obviously pushed her too far, too fast.
The thought had him cursing, low and long and mean, as he called himself every name in the book and some new ones of his own invention.
Had he hurt her? Damn it, he’d felt her response, had heard her pleasure as she’d screamed his name. But maybe he’d misinterpreted—maybe he’d given her more pain than pleasure.
“Genevieve, baby—” He broke off, unsure of what to say as his stomach sank to his toes. Unsure of what to do to make things all right between them.
“I need a minute, Cole,” she said as she continued to shake. “It’s too much. It’s all just too much.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“Cole—”
“Just tell me, sweetheart. Did I?”
She would have laughed if she’d been able to work up the energy. But she was empty, strung out, her body so thoroughly used that she wasn’t sure if it would ever again feel as if it belonged to her. And he wanted to know if he’d hurt her? He’d shattered her, and she didn’t know how to begin to put the pieces back in the right order again.
“Genevieve!”
She finally tilted her head at the barely concealed alarm in his tone, unable to ignore it even as she fought down the panic ripping through her own body. And was shocked at how wild he looked. How fearful. “It’s okay, Cole.”
“Fuck that!” he snarled, setting her away from him with hands that were shockingly gentle considering the look in his eyes. “Did. I. Hurt. You?”
“No, of course not.”
“Fuck.” He flopped onto his back, sinking into the mattress as if all the air had gone out of him. Then he lifted his head and eyed her suspiciously. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.” She told him what he wanted to hear, but it was also the truth. He’d pushed her—fast and furious—beyond every boundary she’d ever had with regards to sex. And up until the end, she’d gone willingly. More than willingly—eagerly. And as soon as it got to be too much, he’d stopped. Instantly.
She’d been a cop long enough to know that a lot of men wouldn’t have.
“Then what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her around to face him, shifting so his hard body was wrapped completely around hers. Sheltering her.
It took all her training not to yelp as that last thought occurred to her. It was, after all, the crux of the problem. In one night, he’d managed to get inside of her. To rip her defenses apart and touch the real Genevieve. The one who wasn’t such a hard-ass. The one who wanted to believe that such incredible, mind-bending sex meant more than just a good time.
It was too dangerous in the best of times, and around-the-bend crazy with this man she still didn’t even know if she could trust. Her body said yes, absolutely, whispered insidious things to her in an effort to take more of the pleasure Cole so easily provided.
But her brain wasn’t nearly as accepting. Not with all the warning flags popping out like bare breasts at Mardi Gras. Not with everything she still didn’t know about him. But she couldn’t bring herself to face the doubts and suspicions while her body still trembled with the last orgasm he had given her.
“Genevieve?” he prompted.
“You’re just too much. Too big, too intense, too … everything. You want more from me than I can give.”
He reached up, stroked a gentle hand down her cheek. “I want you.”
“You want too much!” She reached over and grabbed his shirt, shrugging into it as a poor defense for the vulnerability he brought out in her. Then instantly regretted it. Bad enough that her skin smelled like him; now she was surrounded by the tangy, ocean scent. It was enough to drive a sane woman crazy.
Unable to keep still for another second, she stood up from the bed. Started to pace. But she didn’t get far.
In a move that was so smooth she almost didn’t see it, Cole sprang to his feet. Blocked her path. Began to stalk toward her. “Cole, no.” She held up a hand to ward him off, afraid of the frazzled, out-of-control woman she’d become.
“Genevieve, yes.” He continued walking toward her, each smooth, deliberate step both a threat and a promise.
“You keep pushing and taking, demanding more and more. I don’t know what to do, how to give you what you want.”
“All I want is you,” he repeated, stopping right in front of her. He stared at her with gleaming onyx eyes she couldn’t help responding to.
“You want everything!”
“Damn straight.” In a lightning-fast move, he snagged her wrist and pulled her against him. She gasped as she slammed into that hard body—not because she was frightened, but because he felt so damn good.
“Let me show you,” he murmured, burying his face in her neck. Licking the spot behind her ear that was guaranteed to set her body on overdrive.
Her laugh was strangled, but the hands pushing against his chest weakened. Began to stroke the firm skin they had resisted only moments before. “You already have. Over and over again.”
“Not well enough, obviously.” He grabbed the shirt she wore and with one fast tug, ripped it off her so that she was once again naked. Once again laid bare for him.
Even as a nervous tingling skated slickly down her spine, she felt herself opening to him. Her body—so sore and used—preparing to take him. Again. And again and again until he’d used her up. Until she didn’t remember what it was like to breathe without him inside of her.
Panic bloomed full out, but she fought it down as she reached for Cole. Took his cock into her hands. Sighed at the look of ecstasy that crossed his face. She would hold her own this time, would refuse to be taken over. Would give as good as she got.
Sinking to her knees in front of him, she ran her tongue up his raging erection. He was hot and hard and so big she didn’t know how she’d managed to hold him in her body over and over throughout the long night.
Glancing up, she saw him watching her with eyes that had gone nearly feral in their intensity. But instead of scaring her, the deep, dark look gave her reassurance. She wasn’t in this alone. Despite the control he’d exerted all night, he was as affected by her as she was by him.
That knowledge soothed her discomfort, gave her back her equilibrium. With a secret smile, she danced her tongue around the broad head of his cock, then reached between his legs to cup and massage his testicles.
Cole groaned, his fists clenching in her hair. “Do it,” he urged, holding her head steady against him.
“Do what?” she teased, flicking her tongue over him again and again. Teasing him, taunting him, giving him only a little of what he wanted. What he needed.
“Genevieve!” His voice was hot, harsh, commanding. The look he shot her just a little bit wild as he thrust against her mouth.
“Is this what you want?” she asked, slipping just the tip of him into her mouth. Sucking gently but never giving him the pressure that he craved.
“Fuck.” The fingers in her hair tightened. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”
“Payback’s a bitch.” She laughed low in her throat and then shifted, taking all of him into her mouth.
His cock throbbed as she pulled him deep, letting her tongue run up and down the length of him while she moved her hands until her nails dug into his thighs. Not hard, but just enough to let him know that she meant business.
Then she
eased back until only his deep purple head was in her mouth. Sucking him gently, she let her tongue swirl in circles over the small bundles of nerves on the bottom of his tip.
He gasped, clutched at her hair, tried to get her to take more of him. But she refused to give in, refused to be swayed by the wordless pleas of his body. Instead, she lifted a hand and began working his cock with both her hand and her mouth.
“Genevieve.” His voice was choked, his hips restless as he thrust against her. “Please—”
The tortured sound of his voice sent her over the edge and she couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t withhold what he so badly wanted when she wanted it too.
Shifting her hands, she cupped his ass to hold him in place. And then slowly, so slowly that she caught every shudder of his strong, virile body, she took all of him.
He was huge, hot, hard—and she loved it. Loved the feel of his body shaking against hers, loved the sharp pain of his hands tugging in her hair. Loved the feel of his cock sliding in and out of her mouth, up and down her throat.
She relaxed her throat, let it milk him as her tongue swirled around him. He tasted like the sea—sweet and salty and storm-tossed—and she couldn’t get enough of him. Arousal thrummed through her, making her hot and wet and desperate for the feel of him between her thighs.
But she wasn’t ready to let him go, wasn’t ready to relinquish the pleasure that came from driving him as crazy as he’d driven her. Moving again, she brought one hand behind his balls and stroked the sweet spot there. He stiffened, gasped, frantically called her name as he tried to pull out.
She only sucked him deeper, savoring the tangy drop of pre-cum he couldn’t hold back. He was on the brink, about to lose control, and she couldn’t wait to drive him over. To watch his face as orgasm took him. To feel his body as ecstasy consumed him.
Cole watched her with eyes he could barely keep open, shocked at the intensity of the pleasure Genevieve was giving him. He’d had blow jobs many, many times before, but never had a woman driven him this insane. Never had he lost control of his body, his will. His very soul.
Part of him wanted to stop her, to pull Genevieve up his body and thrust into her until she came, screaming his name. But he had made mistakes with her already, had taken too much power from her, too fast. Had given her pleasure but taken any and all control from her.
And in doing so, he had hurt her—something he’d never intended to do. If stringing him out—hurtling him past simple lust and into a primal need to mate—gave her what she needed, then he would let her have it.
For now.
The need to come was urgent, the desire to empty himself into her mouth so intense that it shook him to his very core. But at the same time, he didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay here, in this moment, connected to this beautiful woman forever.
He thrust against her, watched as he slid in and out of her pale pink lips. Did it again and nearly came when she moaned deep in her throat.
“Genevieve, sweetheart,” he said, shocked at the gravel in his normally smooth voice. “Stop. I want to be inside you when I come.”
Genevieve merely took him deeper, let her tongue run up and down his cock in a rhythm that had his eyes crossing and his balls aching for relief. He was on the brink, orgasm threatening with every strangled breath he took. Just when he was ready to give it up, to let her have her way, she pulled away.
He nearly howled in disappointment, in relief, in desperation. “Fuck,” he gasped. “I have—”
He didn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t finish it as agony ripped through him. His legs trembled, and his heart beat so fast he was sure it would burst.
But Genevieve seemed oblivious to his plight. Pulling back even farther, she licked her lips. Glanced up at him through her lashes. Then ran her tongue up and down his length in whisper-soft strokes.
He jerked, every muscle in his body tightening as he finally lost all control of his body. Genevieve was taking him, taking everything he could give. And judging from the look on her face, loving every second of it.
“Let me fuck you. Let me come inside you. I want—” He was babbling, incoherent, aware of nothing but the pleasure and pain ripping through him as he fought for control.
Then Genevieve leaned back. Ran her tongue over her sweet, soft lips. Touched the pre-cum leaking from him with one slender finger. “I want you to come,” she whispered, slipping the finger in her mouth and sucking it clean before bringing her lips to him once again.
She ran her tongue over his balls, stroked the spot at the back of his balls that she’d found earlier and he’d never known existed. Ordered in a voice breathless with desire, “Come for me, Cole. Come now!”
And swallowed him whole.
It was too much—her mouth on his cock, her hand on his balls, her words in his head. He tried to pull away, to stop the climax flowing through him before he flooded her.
But Genevieve refused to let him go. She slid one arm around his hips and jerked him tightly against her. Her tongue stroked the tender underside of his cock even as she sucked until sanity was a distant memory. She hummed low in her throat, and the ensuing vibrations sent him off the edge of the very high, very jagged cliff he’d been balanced so precariously upon.
With a groan that was almost a shout, he gave himself up to the most incredible orgasm of his life and emptied himself inside of her in long, pulsing jets.
When it was over, when he could think again, he sank gracelessly onto the bed and pulled Genevieve down beside him. He was hot, sweaty. His knees were weak and he was shaking so badly he could barely hold on to her.
He looked down and saw her watching him with such tenderness, he was overwhelmed with emotion. Lying there, looking at him, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were glistening; her cheeks flushed. And her eyes were a bright, shining electric blue—so bright he felt sure she could see all the way to his soul.
The thought should have worried him, should have made him uncomfortable at the very least, considering what he was hiding. Instead, it relaxed him as nothing had in seven long years.
Reaching out, he stroked her tousled curls away from her forehead. Laughed as they wound their way around his fingers. Breathed deeply and inhaled the honeysuckle scent of her into his lungs.
How had he gotten here, to this precise moment? Held tenderly in the arms of this strong, sexy woman?
He didn’t know, couldn’t fathom how things could have gone so wrong. Or so right. Unsure of what he was doing for the first time in a very long time, he held on tightly to Genevieve. And wondered where on earth they could go from here.
Chapter Eight
Shrugging into her robe, Genevieve stumbled to the kitchen in a stupor, drawn there by the tantalizing aroma of ready-made coffee. Her brain was foggy, her body sore, her libido temporarily sated.
Thank God. How many times had she come last night anyway? Far, far too many to count. It was a miracle Cole hadn’t killed her.
Maybe she should have been embarrassed after her meltdown, but Cole had held her so tenderly through it that she didn’t regret letting him see her vulnerabilities. And what had happened afterward, when he’d let her take him—in her mouth and in her body—had been worth any of the uncertainties that had come before.
“There you are. I was about to wake you.” He skirted the table, handed her a cup of coffee. “What time do you have to be at work?”
“It’s my day off.” She lifted the cup to her nose, breathed in the life-giving aroma before taking a big sip. It was so delicious she didn’t even care that she’d have second-degree burns on her tongue. “You make a hell of a cup of coffee, you know that?”
He snorted. “Don’t take offense if I don’t hold your opinion in the highest regard. You’ve been drinking cop coffee for so long, I’d be amazed if you had any taste buds left.”
“I’ve got enough.”
“Sure you do.” He nodded to the bag on the counter. “I got breakfast
, too.”
“Well, aren’t you just all domestic this morning.” She took another sip of coffee, relished the burn as it slid down her sleep-scratchy throat.
“Good sex will do that to a guy.”
She lifted an eyebrow, looked him up and down. “Good sex?”
He grinned. “Fabulous sex. Amazing sex. Astounding sex.”
“Yeah, that’s more like it.”
Cole grabbed the butter and strawberry jam from the fridge and then settled himself at the kitchen table. In her chair. Which she wasn’t nearly as annoyed about as she should have been, but then again, mind-blowing sex could do that to a girl, she thought with a grin.
She watched as he pulled two huge croissants out of the bag, felt her knees turn trembly at the sight. It was really hard to play it cool with a guy who knew all your weaknesses before you even told him, knew them and took care to deliver them to you one after the other.
“How’d you know croissants were my favorite?” she demanded.
He shot her a wicked grin, then licked strawberry jam off his thumb. “Because they’re my favorite too.”
“I bet. You know,” she said, studying him closely over her half-empty cup. “You’re awfully domesticated for a big, bad Hollywood type.”
His only response was an eye roll, but she’d seen him stiffen. That telltale discomfort had her pushing harder than she might have otherwise. “So did some woman train you to be so thoughtful? A wife? Girlfriend?”
“My mother.” His voice was rock steady, but she would have had to be blind to miss the way his hand shook. “I used to have to take care of my half sister—feed her, keep her safe and happy, that kind of thing.”
“You must be close to your family.”
His eyes turned unreadable in an instant, his jaw clenching so hard she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d broken a tooth. “Not so much anymore.”
