by Sophie Night
He shakes his head and looks down at his feet, laughing to himself. Then he looks up at me, and I swear to God, his beautiful blue eyes pierce right through me — stripping me bare. “No, you didn’t.”
“Of course, I did.”
Pushing off the wall, he advances on me. “You can lie to yourself, Lexi. But don’t ever lie to me. There must always be honesty between us.”
I shift from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
He’s standing in front of me now and all I can think about is reaching out and tracing my fingers across the ropes of muscle lining his stomach. His skin would be hot, like mine is now.
Taking my purse from my shoulder, he tosses it onto the chair and then brushes his finger along the low neckline of my dress.
“You came here because somewhere deep down, you realize I’m the only one who can give you what you need.”
My nipples tighten and my breasts suddenly feel heavy, sensitive. I suck in a breath. “And what’s that?”
“You need to be dominated, cherished.” His finger dips into my bodice and brushes against my tight nipple. “You need to be worshiped.”
I lick my lips, entranced by his rough, erotic timbre. I want everything he just described — as long as it involves his cock buried deep inside me. After last night, my entire body feels like a live wire, humming with electricity. Never before have I felt so on edge. So turned on. My body is begging for release.
Briefly, my mind wanders to Michael. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t allow Cole to touch me like this, but I can’t stop him. I won’t stop him. Like a junkie, I crave his touch, the feel of his skin gliding against mine. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.
The shrill ring of a telephone fills the room, cutting through the silence. Cole doesn’t move. His finger continues to stroke my nipple, sending little waves of pleasure crashing through me.
“Shouldn’t you answer that?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Whatever it is can wait.”
My thoughts are cast back to the woman from last night — Rebekah. Is that her on the other end of the phone, I wonder? It was painfully clear just how much she wanted him. Is she calling now, hoping to set up a booty call?
The phone abruptly stops ringing.
I swallow. “You can have any woman you want. Why me?”
He smiles. That half–smile that makes my core pulse and my knees go weak. “I don’t think you quite understand the power you hold over men, Lexi.”
I nearly snort at that. Was he serious? “I have no power whatsoever over men.”
In all of my twenty–three years, I’ve had two boyfriends. Only one of which I’d ever had sex with. I’d hardly call that having a powerful hold over men. In fact, they tend to ignore me — especially if Avery is anywhere in the vicinity.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He pinches my nipple and the sharp sting makes me gasp. “See, there. Just that small, breathless sound could bring a man to his knees.” His fingers move to my mouth. “And these lips…” He sucks in a breath. “These lips could haunt a man’s dreams.”
“You are delusional.”
“Actually,” he says quietly, his gaze resting on my lips. “I’ve never been more clear headed in my life.”
There’s a heaviness in his voice that makes me wonder if he’s talking about something else completely. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what it is when his hand falls away from my mouth and the moment is gone.
I shake my head. I’m so fucking confused by all this — us, me and Cole. “Just tell me something,” I say. “What do you want from me? I mean, really.”
“Everything, Lexi. I want everything you have to give.”
“Oh, is that it?” I quip. “And after giving you everything, what would you give me in return?”
“The freedom of complete surrender.”
My lips suddenly feel dry. I push my tongue out to moisten my mouth. “I don’t need to surrender to feel free.”
He looks into my eyes and I see my own desire reflected back at me. He flicks his chin in my direction. “Take off your dress.” His words are soft, powerful. Commanding.
Indecision wars within me. If I were going to leave, this would be the moment. And yet, I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move. Something in me wants to stay. There’s a strong, undeniable compulsion within me to obey this man. How does he do that to me?
“Take off your dress,” he says again, more forcefully this time.
Another moment passes before I reach behind my back and slowly pull the zipper of my dress down. The pale turquoise fabric pools at my feet and I step out of it. Cold air bushes over my heated skin, making me feel vulnerable and exposed. I shiver.
His gaze rakes over me greedily. “Now your bra and your panties.”
I swallow and do as I’m told, flinging my black bra and lace panties aside. As I stand there, naked in front of him, all I want to do is grab a blanket to shield myself from his hungry gaze. Instead, I lift my chin and look him straight in the eye, trying to convey all the courage I don’t feel.
“Very good.” He sounds pleased and a little tendril of happiness coils through me. “Now get on the bed.”
Again, I don’t hesitate. I climb up onto the massive bed and wait.
He steps toward me. “On your back, hands above your head.”
I ease back, my legs pressed together, my hands gripping the headboard. My entire body is quivering, hungry for his touch. The distance between us is agony. I twist on the bed restlessly, awaiting his next command.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers.
I shut my eyes and a few seconds later, I feel the mattress dip under his weight. The subtle scent of his cologne lingers in the air between us and I draw in a shaky breath.
“You have a beautiful body, Lexi.” His fingertip circles around my breast achingly slow and my nipples pucker in response. “I could worship you all night.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Perhaps, I will.”
Oh, yes, please.
His hand trails down over my rib, my stomach, his touch feather light and teasing. It’s torment. Every cell in my body is electrified, arching in response to his touch.
His fingers thread through the hair shielding my entrance, pushing into the cleft between my thighs.
“I’ve imagined this a million times over,” he murmurs. “Since the first moment I saw you, I wanted to own your pleasure.”
Unable to respond, I bite my bottom lip and arch my back. All I want is his cock inside me. But he’s the one in control and I have a feeling he’s trying to torture me.
If that’s his plan, then he’s succeeding admirably.
“Spread your legs,” he orders.
I spread my thighs, giving him better access to my entrance. He takes it greedily, pushing one finger, then two, into my channel.
“Christ, you are so wet,” he moans.
Then I feel his lips on me, kissing his way down my stomach, over my hip, before burying his head between my thighs. I don’t even have time to protest before his tongue snakes out to lick me. The sensation is so intense, I almost buck off the bed in response.
His fingertips dig into my hips, pinning me to the bed as he continues to lick my sex. He’s a master at this — his tongue swirling around my clit before pushing back into my channel.
Every muscle in my body is pulled tight, like the string of a bow. Any moment, I’m going to break. The tension building inside me and is too much, too intense. I can’t…
His heady moan vibrates against me and it’s more than I can take. I shatter, my climax washing over me like a tidal wave. Hot, delicious pleasure pulses through my veins. I’m gasping, my head thrown back, my spine arched. And still, his tongue is working my clit, relentlessly drawing out every last shutter from my body.
When I finally float back down to earth, he’s lying next to me, his lean, powerful body stretched out on the bed. There’s a wistful look in his eyes, s
omething almost boyishly charming and I smile up at him.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He’s drawing little circles on my belly with his fingertip, causing goose bumps to spread across my skin. For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks relaxed, unguarded.
“You make the most delicious sounds when you come,” he answers.
“You are very good at making me come,” I laugh.
“What about Michael?” He’s looking down at his finger as it trails a path across my stomach to my hip, studiously avoiding my gaze. There’s an edge of jealousy in his tone.
I stiffen. How does he know about Michael? “What?”
Finally, his eyes meet mine. “Your phone. His name popped up several times when he texted you last night.”
My cheeks flush when I remember Michael’s texts. “Michael and I broke up a few months ago,” I offer awkwardly.
“Good,” he says. “That makes my job easier.”
I lift a brow. “You’re job?”
“I don’t like competition and I don’t share.”
No, I don’t imagine he does. Cole seems like the type of man who knows exactly what he wants and will do whatever it takes to get it. Even if that means playing dirty.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you a lawyer?”
He laughs and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Why would you assume that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. You have a certain…presence. Powerful, confident.”
“I’m not a lawyer.” He gets up, strides across the room and picks up the phone. “Room service, please. The usual.”
As he moves back toward the bed, my gaze wanders over his lean, muscular body. He must work out. There’s no way a body like that comes from sitting around all day. He’s magnificent and every female cell in my body purrs in approval.
He grabs a newspaper off the nightstand and settles in next to me, pulling me into his arms before snapping the paper open to the finance section. Is he a banker? A Wall Street guy? My cheek is pressed against his chest as he reads, and I’m stricken by just how domestic this situation is.
But my body is still humming from that last orgasm, ready for the next round and lying here with him is far too tempting. I shift, pressing my bare breasts against his side, my hand idly stoking the dark hair dusting his chest.
It only takes a second for a growl to emerge from his throat. I smile as he lowers the newspaper and grabs my wandering hand. “You need to eat first.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say.
Actually, I’m starved. I rushed out of the apartment this morning without my usual coffee and high fiber granola bar. I’m beginning to feel a little faint — or maybe that’s just the effect Cole has on me.
His large hand splays across my rumbling stomach. He smiles wickedly. “You’ll need your strength for what I have planned.”
I open my mouth to ask what he means, when there’s a brisk knock at the door. He pushes off the bed and strides to the door. A liveried bellboy enters, pushing a cart laden with food into the room. Bowing stiffly, he moves to leave — I can see him for a split second as he passes the bedroom door. Cole mummers something and the a few seconds later the bellboy leaves, clicking the door shut behind him.
There’s a soft blanket laid out across the bed. I gather it around myself and walk barefoot into the living area, where breakfast has been set out on the elegant round dining table.
Cole brings a glass of orange juice to his lips before setting it down and walking over to me. Gently, he tugs the blanket from my hands and lets it fall to the floor.
“Don’t ever hide yourself from me.”
I glance pointedly at his pajama bottoms and raise a brow. “I could say the same to you.”
“If I take these off, I’ll have you up against the wall in two seconds flat.”
I smile up at him. “I don’t have any objections to that.”
He shakes his head and plucks a raspberry off the plate. “Open.”
I open my mouth and he places the tart berry on my tongue. I suck on his finger as it slides from my lips. He growls.
“I’m going to feed you and then I’m going to push my cock into that sweet pussy and ride you until you weep.”
I swallow and nod, a bit taken back by his blunt honesty. I’ve never had a man talk to me so crudely. I never thought I’d like it. But as the words tumble from his mouth, a thread of heat slithers through me. My core is wet, aching, hungry for him.
Lowering me into one of the plush dining chairs, he places two raspberries in his mouth. Bracing a hand on either armrest, cadging me in, he leans forward. His hot mouth covers mine and his tongue pushes into my mouth, the berries with it.
“Mmm.” They are sweet with just a hint of tartness. I lick my lips when he pulls away.
He takes a butter knife and spreads marmalade across a piece of toast, then holds it to my lips. I take a bite, and then he takes a bite. It’s sourdough — my favorite — and combined with the sweet tang of marmalade, it tastes heavenly.
“I find I’m quite hungry this morning,” he mummers. “Starving, in fact.”
Setting the toast aside, he takes the little marmalade jar in his hand and dips his finger into the amber–colored jam and spreads it across my left nipple, followed swiftly by his tongue.
I moan, arching up into him. Sweet Jesus, his smooth, velvety tongue feels so good against my hot skin. I don’t want it to stop. So when his lips leave me, I clamp my mouth shut to silence the whimper bubbling up in my throat.
“Close your eyes,” he commands.
“Why?”
He laughs faintly. “Because I told you to.” He leans over me and kisses my left eyelid. “Now close,” he kisses my other eyelid, “your eyes.”
I smile at his tenderness and close my eyes. He’s such a serious guy that when I get these little glimpses of softness, I can’t help but feel like it’s just for me — a little bit of himself that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.
“Keep them closed until I tell you to open them.” He places my hands on the armrests and spreads my legs as far as they will go. “Stay exactly as you are. Don’t move.”
I nod, my entire body pulled tight in anticipation. My core is slick, already hungry for his cock. After a minute, I feel him spread something cool and slippery across my skin. The sweet smell of vanilla gives it away. Whipped cream. With his long fingers, he spreads the sticky cream over my breasts, my ribs, working his way down my body until I feel his hand between my thighs. He pushes a finger into me.
“Christ, you are so fucking wet, Lexi. So ready for my cock.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me want to open my eyes. But I don’t. I’m afraid he’ll stop if I do, so I just bite my lip and squeeze my eyes tighter. He pushes another finger into me, stretching my channel, making me gasp.
My clit is pulsing and each breath is sawing out of my lungs like I’ve just run a marathon. If he doesn’t fuck me soon, the desperation will kill me. I’m certain of it. Never before have I felt pleasure/torment like this and I’m near to bursting.
Clutching the armrests, I struggle to remain still. But everything inside me is dying to arch up and grind against his hand. A whimper escapes my throat.
“Shhh,” he soothes. And then I feel his lips on me again, sucking the cream off my tight nipple. “You taste like heaven,” he groans against my skin. “So fucking sweet.”
I groan in response, tilting my head back as he moves to the other nipple, sucking, nipping gently with his teeth. I try to focus on something other than my building orgasm, but I can’t. The feeling of his lips on me, the sharp, searing pain of his teeth biting into my flesh is more than I can take.
Holy shit. I’m going to come.
“Cole,” I pant. “Please…”
He doesn’t answer my pleas. Instead, he licks his way down my torso, swirling his tongue around my belly button before wending his way down to my swollen, aching core.
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br /> With his hand, he spreads a healthy dollop of whipped cream on my clit, and then presses his lips against me, slowly, languidly sucking the cream off.
It’s more than I can take.
With one hard lick, hot pulsing pleasure jolts through me. I’m engulfed in sensation, writhing beneath him, a thready cry erupting from my throat. Ripples of delicious heat course through my body as he continues to suck and lick and fuck me with his tongue.
And still he doesn’t release me. Instead, he pushes one finger into my channel, then another, and another until I’m stretched impossibly wide. His thumb gently caresses my clit, swirling over the swollen nub until that crest starts building again within me.
“No, Cole, I can’t…”
I want to move my hips, buck against him. But I don’t dare.
“Yes. You can,” he growls. “Once more. Then I’ll fuck you.”
The promise of his cock buried deep inside me is enough to send me over the edge again. With my head thrown back, and my nails digging into the armrests, I surrender to it. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over me, sucking me under, leaving me panting and breathless.
It’s a full minute before I can collect myself. Removing his hand from me, I can feel him pull away. My eyes flutter open just in time to see him walk out of the bedroom. I can hear the faucet in the bathroom run for a minute, before he returns with a white washcloth in his hand.
He moves toward me with the languid self–confidence of a man who knows power and control.
His eyes narrow as he approaches me. “You’ve disobeyed me. I haven’t given you permission to open your eyes.”
I swallow and tilt my chin up, looking him square in the eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”
One side of his beautiful mouth tilts upward in a half–smile. “There’s only one way to deal with disobedience. You need to be punished.”
CHAPTER SIX
You need to be punished.
My breath catches in my throat, and a strange sort of excitement trickles through me. My skin beings to prickle.
Tossing the washcloth onto the table, he reaches down and curls a strong hand around my forearm, wrenching me up so that we’re standing toe to toe. My body is still half–smeared in whipped cream, but he doesn’t seem to care. Spinning me around, he bends me over the table and forces me down, my face pressed against the cold polished surface of the table.
