by Tracy Wolff
“Did you think I would let you fall?” His voice was farther away now, and she turned her head blindly, seeking comfort. Seeking him. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”
She didn’t know how to respond. Her heart was still beating wildly, though the active fear had died down to mere apprehension.
She was sprawled half-on, half-off the bed and she wiggled backward, trying to get herself into a more dignified position. But Cole’s voice, so deep now that it was barely recognizable, stopped her squirming.
“Spread your legs for me, Genevieve.”
Immediately her thighs clamped shut, despite the electricity shooting through her. “Wha-what?” she asked, sounding more dazed than she would have liked.
“You’re so damn beautiful there. I want to see you.”
She’d never felt more vulnerable. How could he ask this of her? Wasn’t it enough that she’d let him blindfold her? Now he wanted more. He wanted everything.
“Cole—”
“I said do it, Genevieve!”
“Screw you!” She catapulted into a sitting position. “Stop ordering me around.”
There was a long silence, then, “It’s not an order if you want to do it.”
“I don’t!” Her hands clenched, fisted in the soft satin of the comforter beneath her. But she didn’t reach for the blindfold, not yet.
“Are you sure about that?” His voice was softly mocking, closer. So much closer than it had been.
“Yes.” But suddenly she was anything but. He was touching her again, running one finger down the valley between her breasts, over her stomach, past her navel to her mons. He lingered there, toyed with the little strip of hair she hadn’t waxed.
Fire shot through her, had her falling back against the soft comforter even as she reached for Cole.
But he wasn’t there, despite the continued contact of that one finger sliding slowly between her thighs. Stroking her clit. Trailing over her labia. Thrusting inside of her.
“Cole!” She arched up, the pleasure of that one thrust so intense she nearly came, her legs falling open of their own volition.
“Genevieve!” he mimicked, but she could hear the strain in his voice. It was the same strain that had her breaking out in a sweat despite the cool air washing over her bare skin.
And then even his finger was gone. She whimpered, arched up, tried to find him again. “Do you want to come?” he asked, his mouth just inches away from her throbbing sex.
“Yes.” It was a whisper.
“I’m sorry.” His breath was hot against her pussy and she moaned, thrusting her hips up as she desperately tried to get closer to him. “I can’t hear you.”
“Yes.” It was a gasp.
“Then touch yourself. Show me what you like.”
“Cole!” she wailed. “I want you. Please.”
“Oh, you’ll have me. Over and over again, you’ll take me. But first I want to see you pleasure yourself. I want you to make yourself come.”
“I can’t.” She was on fire, dying, her entire body crying out for him. She wanted to come, needed to with an intensity that bordered on madness. Yet to do as he suggested—while he watched and she could see nothing—was its own kind of madness.
“You will.” There was a long pause. “Come on, sweetheart. Touch those beautiful nipples for me. Show me how you like to be stroked.”
Her hand trembled against the bedspread as she fought to ignore that black-magic voice. But he was a sorcerer, a demon, each word pulling her more and more under his spell, until all she wanted was to please him.
Slowly, trying to work up the nerve—trying to fight the utter vulnerability she felt—she brought her palm to her naked breast. Cupped it. Stroked it softly and sighed at the sheer relief of the contact.
“That’s it, baby,” Cole murmured, his voice little more than a growl. “Show me what you like.”
She shifted her hand, brushed her nipple once. Twice. Then squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger as Cole had done the night before. Pleasure cascaded from her breasts to her pulsing sex.
Taking a deep breath, caught up in the pleasure, she brought her other hand up. Touched her other breast. Squeezed its nipple. And couldn’t stop the small moan from escaping her lips as she arched off the bed.
She wondered what she looked like to him, wondered if he was watching her as intently as she imagined. She listened carefully, tried to distinguish a groan or a shift in his breathing pattern, anything that said he was half as aroused as she was. But there was nothing, only silence from him, as if he’d somehow left the room.
“Cole?” she called out, more uncertain than she could ever remember being.
“I’m here.” It was more growl than groan, more animal than human, and it reassured her on a basic level. He was enjoying what she was doing, was as into it as she was.
Taking a deep breath, fighting her inhibitions with each movement of her fingers, she trailed a hand down her stomach. Lingered at her abdomen, smoothing, touching, enjoying the feel of soft skin sliding over softer skin. Ran her hand back up her body, following the path Cole had taken earlier. And slipped a finger into her mouth and sucked gently.
There was a harshly indrawn breath, the sound of knuckles cracking. And she grinned, realizing for the first time the power she wielded in this game.
Relaxing into the bed, letting it take her weight a little more, she ran her finger over her bottom lip. Her top lip. Slipped it into her mouth again to rewet it, and then lowered it to her breast.
She stroked the wetness onto one tight, hard nipple, moaning as the cold air hit it and made it even harder. Brought her finger up to her mouth and sucked again. Brought it to her other breast and repeated the motions. Again and again until her entire body was quivering, until her clit was begging to be touched. Until Cole’s harsh breathing echoed in the room.
Only then, when she could feel the heat radiating off his body and hear the insane need in every breath he pulled into shuddering lungs, only then did she move her hand where she’d wanted it to go all along.
Though every nerve ending in her body was screaming at her to hurry, begging her to take herself over the edge, she took it slow. Bending her knees, she let them fall wide so that Cole could see exactly what he was missing with his power games.
She teased her clit, let her thumb glance over it a couple times without ever delivering the firm caress she needed to fly. Then moving lower, she ran a finger over her slit, relishing the dampness waiting for her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this wet, this turned on. She knew only that she wasn’t ready for it to end, wasn’t ready to go over the cliff if she couldn’t take Cole with her.
His breathing was harsher, faster, but still he made no move to touch her. Part of her wanted to rip off the stupid blindfold, to gaze at him in the middle of passion. But the game wasn’t over—she was no more done with him than he was with her.
Spreading her legs even wider, relishing the pleasure that came not just from her hand but from the knowledge that she was making Cole suffer as she had, Genevieve thrust two fingers inside of herself at the same moment she bent and swiped her tongue over her breast.
“Fuck!” The curse was low and vicious and more than a little slurred, as if Cole was drunk on the mere sight of her approaching orgasm.
He cleared his throat, said, “Do that again.”
She took a page from his book and asked innocently, “Do what again?” even though she knew exactly what he was asking for.
“Don’t fuck with me!” It was an explosion of sound and then he was there, straddling her hips, his arousal firm against her stomach.
“You’ve been singing some variation of that line all night, Cole. I thought I was just giving you what you wanted. I sure as hell was giving one of us what we wanted.”
“Do it again.” His voice was lower, guttural. Knowing he was watching, suddenly loving the attention—and the heady rush of power she got from knowing he was right there w
ith her—she ran her tongue over the slope of her breast a second time.
Paused and whispered, “I wish it was you.”
Cole cursed, long and violently, though he slowly untangled himself from where she lay on the bed. “Finish it.”
“I can’t,” she said, tugging against the hand that held her wrist.
“You have to. I have to see—” His voice broke, and she delighted in getting a little of her own back. He might be the one with the blindfold and bag of tricks, but she had as much power over him as he had over her.
It was a thrilling, beautiful feeling. One that grew as he reluctantly let go of her wrist. She almost whimpered at the loss of his touch, would have if she hadn’t felt the pressure of his gaze. He was staring at her, geared up and desperate. She didn’t need her eyes to tell her that—she could smell the arousal rolling off him. Hot and salty and so sexy she wanted nothing more than to immerse herself in him.
Restless, aching, she was done with the preliminaries and nearly desperate for relief. Moving her hands once again to her pussy, she thrust two fingers inside of herself as she used her other hand to play with her clit.
It felt so good, especially as she imagined they were Cole’s hands on her. Cole’s fingers inside of her, searching for her G-spot. Finding it. Stroking it as he pinched her clit with his strong, elegant fingers. Cole, with his dark eyes and strong muscles, bending to her. Flicking her clit with his tongue, taking it in his mouth, playing with it.
Sweat rolled between her breasts and she couldn’t hold back the moan. Her hips arched, moving restlessly as release beckoned. Cole, she reminded herself as she applied firmer pressure. Cole was inside her, fucking her, having her. Cole—
She whimpered as her body shot to the edge of the cliff. Began to teeter over. One more stroke. Just one more and—
“Stop!” Cole’s voice was harsh, violent as it cut into her fantasy. And then he was slamming her hands above her head, leaving her body in an agony of unfulfilled need, balanced precariously on the highest sexual precipice of her life.
Chapter Fourteen
Fuck! He was going to lose it like a kid in the throes of his first wet dream. How had she done this to him? How the fuck had he thought—even for an instant—that he could control all that heat and fire and rampant sexuality? Genevieve was a time bomb, and he was the one about to go off.
“Cole!” It was a broken cry, one that shot straight to his screaming cock and had him clawing for a control he knew he wouldn’t find. “Don’t do this to me, don’t leave me—” Her voice broke, her body moving restlessly against the navy comforter.
He gritted his teeth, forced the words out when all he really wanted to do was fall on her like a starving man. “Soon, sweetheart.”
“Not soon—now!” She nearly screamed the word as she bucked against his hold on her, and the sight of her back bowing, her full breasts standing even more proudly, nearly robbed him of the little composure he still had. “I’ve got to come, I’ve got to—”
For a long moment, he sat frozen, staring at her. Unable to breathe, as the world around them shrunk to this place and this moment.
He’d meant to drive her out of her mind, had started this as a way to break down the barriers she had against him. But he was the one losing control, the one about to blast through his own barriers in an effort to get to her.
It was a sobering thought, or would have been if he could have thought of anything but Genevieve. There were so many things he wanted to do with her, to her. So many ways he wanted to make her come. They flashed through his mind in an erotic montage as he stared at her in the fading light.
Genevieve on her hands and knees in front of him while he plunged into her. Genevieve screaming, her hands tangled in his hair, as he thrust his tongue into her pussy and ate her like an ice-cream cone. Genevieve tied up, her body on fire as he took her places she’d never been before.
“Cole!” This time it was a scream, the sound freeing him from the sensual slide show in his head. With a growl, he reached into the nightstand again, came out with more black satin ties.
Leaning forward, he wrapped one around the wrists he still had pinned together above her head, then tied her to the black iron headboard. She didn’t complain as he’d expected, didn’t beg to be set free. He glanced down, wanting to make sure she was okay, and that’s when she struck. Arching up, her mouth found his pec and her teeth sunk in, hard.
“Shit!” he yelled as the threat of coming in his pants became even more real. “You little hellcat.”
“You have no idea.” Now she strained against the ties. “Fuck me, Cole. Fuck me now before I die of frustration.”
His heart was pounding like a fucking rap song, his breath bellowing in and out of his lungs. He had to get away, had to step back before he leapt on her. Before he fucked her and took everything he wanted.
Jumping off the bed, he grabbed more ties. Then bound each of her ankles to the footboard so she was spread-eagled on the bed, her beautiful sex glistening in the evening twilight.
Shit! When he’d bought the ties, he hadn’t known if he could actually use them—wasn’t sure Genevieve would let him or that he would even want to. But some hitherto unheard-from instinct had had him placing them on the counter—and never before in his life had he been so glad that he’d listened to his gut.
“Cole, stop!”
“Stop?” he growled, his mouth watering at the sight of her spread out and bound like a sacrifice. He gritted his teeth against the need to taste her. To stroke her. To feel her flow around his tongue as she came. “You don’t look like you want me to stop.”
His hand moved without his command, stroked up her firm, slender thigh until he reached her drenched pussy. He ran a finger over the slick folds, careful not to touch the hard bud of her clit. “You don’t feel like you want me to stop.”
“Either fuck me or untie me!” Her heels dug into the bed as she lifted her pelvis, trying to get a stronger pressure on her sex.
But he pulled back, kept his touch deliberately light. Kept her on the brink of madness. “You’re not really in a position to give orders, are you?” he asked as he dipped his index finger inside her up to the first joint, felt the warm honey of her response.
“I swear, when you let me go—”
“Who says I’ll let you go?” He ignored the trembling in his hands, the weakness in his knees as his cock throbbed for relief. Razor blades of desire were skating down his spine, down his dick, but he was determined to see this through. Determined to give her as much pleasure as she could take—and then more.
“Maybe I’ll keep you here, tied up on my bed. I’ll come to you in the morning, ease your sleeping body into orgasm so the first thing you think about, the first thing you feel when you wake up, is me.”
She moaned, her hips bucking against his hand. “I’ll come back in the afternoon, slip my tongue inside this sweet pussy of yours. Stroke you and eat you and fuck you with my mouth until you scream my name. Then I’ll slide my cock inside you and fuck you some more.”
“Fuck you!” She was trembling so badly that the words were more request than argument, more question than tell-off.
A drop of sweat rolled slowly down her chest and belly, pooled invitingly in her navel. He leaned forward, licked it off. Clenched his teeth until his jaw popped as her vaginal muscles tightened around his finger, pulling him deeper into her endless heat.
He swallowed tightly, struggled to speak over the need consuming him. “I’ll come to you at night, spend hours playing with these beautiful nipples of yours.” He moved his other hand to her breast, drew circles around the incredibly tight areola.
“Turn you over and spank your delightful little ass. Then fuck you there, where you’re so tight.” He turned his hand so that his finger could go deeper inside her even as his thumb slid into the tight little hole. The heat of her, the overwhelming, unbelievable heat of her as she clenched around him had his dick spurting little drops of cum he co
uld no longer contain.
“Fuck, Genevieve, you are so my kind of girl.” He pressed deeper and she screamed, orgasm rolling through her. He shuddered as she milked his hand, her body clenching and releasing so rhythmically that he felt himself grow wetter still.
But he didn’t move, except to wiggle his thumb and finger even deeper into her. To find the sweet bundle of nerves high on her vaginal walls and stroke some more, intensifying her climax. Hurtling her into another one.
“Cole! Oh, my God, Cole!” It was a keening cry, one that shattered the last vestiges of his control. Unbuttoning his pants, lowering his zipper, he sheathed himself in a condom, then climbed onto the bed fully dressed and thrust himself inside of her.
She came again, her body shaking and arching and clenching against him. Two thrusts later, maybe three, and he was with her, his body blasting like a freight train before he could even try to control it.
Cock throbbing, pleasure building at the base of his spine and shooting forward, he convulsed again and again as he emptied himself inside of her, giving her more than he’d ever planned to give.
When it was finally over and the first semblance of sanity slowly returned to him, Cole collapsed on top of her, resting his forehead against hers as he tried to catch his breath.
* * *
Genevieve wiggled with pleasure, shifted to cradle him as best she could while still tied to the bed. She wanted to see him, to look into his eyes and see if he was as shattered by what had happened between them as she was.
But when she turned her head, started to push against his shoulder in an effort to dislodge the blindfold, he rolled off her. “Not yet,” he said as he shifted off her. Immediately she felt bereft—lost, alone in the darkness.
But then he whispered “I’ll do it,” in her ear, and his hands were there, tenderly lifting up her head as he worked the knot free. Slowly, he pulled the silk away and she could see again.
What she saw nearly blew her mind; the tenderness in his black eyes as he looked into hers shook her to her core.
