by J. Kenner
There was a moment of silence, and then he leaned back in his seat, so cool and so casual that it was easy to see how he'd become so powerful. Nothing rattled the man. Or, at least, nothing rattled him until he exploded. And then the entire world shook.
"If I'm understanding you right, you're looking to retain the services of someone who could forge a holographic will."
"I am," I said after a brief moment's hesitation. "Honestly, I don't know what else to do." The truth was, I understood what giving that forged will to Muratti would do--it would put the old man at risk. But right then, right there, I had to think about my dad. And hope that somehow, some way, everything would work out.
"Even if I could find someone to retain, why should I?"
"Because I'm here and because I'm asking," I said. "And because I need your help." I thought of the girls at Destiny that the knights had been helping for years. I thought of the art students that Cole taught in his nonexistent free time, and the professional artists like Tiki who he mentored.
He wouldn't deny me--I was certain of that. And, yes, I was playing a game and using his good nature to roll the dice, but I had a feeling that in my position, Cole would do the same.
"All right," he said. "Done." He rose, then moved across the room to get another drink.
I watched him go, appreciating the view, but also feeling a bit shell-shocked. "That's it? No negotiation? No back and forth?"
"Disappointed?"
I shook my head. "How long will it take to make up the forgery?"
He leaned against the bar and took a long sip of his whiskey. "I'm not going to make a forgery."
"But you said--"
"I said that I'd help. I didn't say how."
I opened my mouth to argue, but shut it again almost immediately. I wanted a solution that didn't require a forgery, after all. And considering the kinds of deals and schemes Cole manipulated and skirted every second of every day, I was confident that he could come up with a plan that both made sense and kept my father--and the property owner--alive.
"All right," I said. "I trust you."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "That's good to know."
I drew in a breath, then got up off the couch. I moved to him, hoping that he would put his arms around me and draw me close. He didn't, though, and I was left standing there, a little lost, a little aroused, as the air between us hummed hot and heavy.
"I really do trust you, you know," I said softly. "Whatever it is that you think we need to talk about, I promise you, we don't."
"Kat." He pressed his hands to my face, then held me gently as he peered into my eyes. I swallowed, unnerved by his intense inspection, but my gaze didn't waver, and what I saw in his face gave me hope.
He bent forward then and captured my mouth with his. I could taste the whiskey on his breath, and I felt suddenly lightheaded. But I wasn't sure if it was the liquor or the man.
Unlike our kiss the night of the gala, this one was soft and sweet and a little sad, and I was already shaking my head in anticipation of his words as he pulled away.
"I can't be the man you need."
"You're wrong. You can't be anything else."
He reached into a pocket in the sweatpants, then pulled out a smooth green stone. It was oval-shaped and flat, with a thumb-sized indention on one side. He held it in his hand as I'd seen him do numerous times before, turning it over and over as he stroked and toyed with it.
"I know it confuses you," he said. "But I care about you, Katrina. And you can scream and rage and hate me all you want, but this isn't going any further. I can't stand the thought of hurting you, and you deserve someone a whole lot less fucked up than I am."
"Hurting me?" I repeated. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You say that you want me--that you care about me. And you know damn well that I care about you, too. But you're pushing me away? That's what hurts, Cole. Not this." I turned so that my back faced him, then tugged down the sleeve of my T-shirt to reveal the still-red scrapes on my shoulder.
"Jesus," he said, his voice like a low, pained curse.
"You didn't hurt me," I said, emphasizing each word. "How can I make you see that? It's just scrapes. It's just flesh. It's nothing compared to what there could be between us."
I wanted to throw up my hands and scream in frustration and bewilderment. Frustration that I couldn't get through his irritatingly thick skull. Bewilderment that I cared so much. I'd never cared so much. Not about anything, really, and certainly not about a man.
Things were changing, though. Or rather I was changing. I cared about my house. I cared about finding a better job. I cared about my friends and my father. About getting settled. About those roots I'd told Daddy I was planting.
And I cared about this man. I cared so desperately that I wasn't sure if I wanted to slap him or kiss him or cry on his shoulder.
Slowly, he reached for me, then gently stroked my shoulder, careful to avoid the worst of the scrapes. I felt my pulse increase in tempo, and I drew in a long, stuttering breath. His hands were like magic upon me, sending swirls of enchantment all through me. Awakening me. Warming me.
"You see?" I said, looking at him over my shoulder. "I'm way more resilient than you think."
He said nothing, and I took that as a good sign. I turned so that I was facing him more directly, wanting to read the expression that he was working so damn hard to keep closed off.
"You didn't hurt me, Cole. You didn't even scare me. I'll tell you what you did do, though. You made me wet. You turned me on." I edged closer so that I caught the clean, fresh scent of his soap. "Do you have any idea how much I wanted you in your office? How much I still want you?"
I looked into his eyes, hoping to see a desire that matched my own. Instead, I saw only steely determination.
Dear god, I wanted to break that control. It was like I was on a mission. As if I merely had to break this man for all the mismatched pieces of my own life to fall into place with Cole right there at the center.
I took another step toward him, so close now that I felt the flutter of his breath on my hair. So intimate I could see the pulse of his chest in time with his heartbeat, and each tiny pore on his bare skin.
Slowly, I pressed my palm against his abdomen, my fingers pointing down. His already tight muscles twitched under my hand, and I bit back a smile, knowing that, if nothing else, my touch had affected him.
I tilted my head up and found his eyes again. This time, I saw the heat that I craved, and that gave me courage to continue.
Slowly--so very slowly--I eased my hand down until my fingers slipped beneath the loose tie that kept those sweatpants from falling off his hips. I didn't stop, I didn't think, I just continued on, keeping my eyes on him, judging my impact on this man by the fire in his eyes and the tightness of his jaw.
A thin line of hair traced down his midline to his cock, and I followed the path eagerly. He was hard and thick, and I greedily closed my hand around his length to stroke him.
Cole groaned, then bit out my name like a curse. I only smiled, stifling my own sigh as I shifted from one foot to the other as the sweet, demanding pressure between my thighs increased.
"Do you want me on my knees?" I whispered, moving my hand in slow, sensual strokes. "Do you want your cock in my mouth? Or should I turn around, bend over the arm of your couch, and let you fuck me from behind? Whatever you want, Cole. And however you want it."
He reached down between our bodies, and for a moment I was certain he would tug my hand away. But all he did was hold it in place through the thick fleece of his pants, so that I ended up stroking his cock to a pressure and speed that he controlled.
"I told you," I said. "I'm not pure. I'm not innocent."
"Maybe not," he agreed. He let a moment pass, and I saw the regret on his face when he gently tugged my hand free. "But you also can't be mine."
The words, so unexpected, acted like a spark on kindling. My temper spiked, and without thinking about it, I reached out
and slapped his face.
"Bastard."
"Goddammit, Kat, you're special." He reached up and massaged the red spot on his jaw. "Maybe you don't see it, but I do, and I'm not going to risk destroying that by having you get twisted up with me. Because there is nothing clean or pure or special about the shit I live with every goddamn day."
"That's a lie," I said. "It's fear and it's an excuse and never once in all the time that I've known you have I believed that you were a coward."
He exhaled, then ran his hands over his head in obvious frustration.
"I know about the Firehouse," I said. "I get that you're into BDSM. I understand, Cole. It doesn't bother me."
"You don't understand shit," he said.
"Then explain it to me."
"Fuck that," he said, then lashed out and kicked over an end table, making me jump. "Shit." There was anger in the word, but also frustration.
"You surprised me," I said sharply. "You didn't hurt me. And if you actually want to scare me you'll have to do better than tormenting a table."
As I hoped, he almost laughed. Almost. But he did calm down. He drew in a breath, then another. After a moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at me. "Do you think what I need makes me proud?" he asked softly. "It's not a road you want to walk with me, Kat."
"Dammit, Cole, don't you dare tell me what I want or don't want. You don't have a clue about what I need, and you sure as hell don't know my boundaries."
"Maybe not," he admitted. "But I know my own."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
With a sigh, he cupped my chin, his expression so sad I wanted to weep. "It means that you're a hard limit for me, blondie. And that's just the way it is."
ten
"Fine," I snapped. "But stay away from me, Cole. Stay away from me and my dad. And while you're at it, stay out of my life."
I turned and stormed toward his door. He caught my arm and yanked me back. "I'll help you with your dad. But not the rest."
"No. This isn't a negotiation. I told you what I want. You don't want to help on my terms, then don't help. But right now, I want you to get out of my way."
"Why?"
"Because I already owed you for the employment verification. I'm tired of owing you, Cole. I'm tired of owing you and not being able to pay the way I want to."
"I'm not tossing your dad to the wolves."
"Then fuck me," I said.
"Kat."
"Hard limit? That's bullshit. Do not tell me what I do and do not want and what I can and cannot have. I'm a grown woman, damn you. I know what I want, what I need. But you're so goddamned hardheaded."
I was stalking toward him now, and I was supremely pissed off. So was he. I could see the fire in his eyes. Cole wasn't defied frequently. I wasn't sure he quite knew what to do with me.
"How do I convince you that you don't scare me? This?" I grabbed my shirt by the hem and ripped it up over my head. I tossed it aside. "This?" The bra went next, and as soon as I'd dropped it on the floor I grabbed his hand and tugged so that I was standing right there--right in front of him.
Before he could think or protest, I cupped his hands on my breasts, and as he sucked in air through his teeth, I let go so I could reach down and unbutton my shorts. I tugged the zipper down, shimmied out of the damn things, and then hooked my thumbs in the band of my tiny lace thong.
"No," Cole said, closing one of his hands over mine.
I aimed a look of pure defiance right back at him, then kept right on going.
He grabbed my hand, then pulled me hard toward him so that I slammed against his chest. I gasped, then found myself breathing hard into the small indentation at the base of his throat.
"I'll do it." His mouth was at my ear, and he growled out the words in time with his action so that I heard the firm, no-nonsense tone of his voice playing melody to the brutal ripping of material as he tore the lace right off my body, rendering me completely naked, desperately hot, and utterly open for him.
"Cole!" I cried out, but he silenced me with his mouth firm over mine. But this was no sensual kiss. It was brutal, demanding. Hot.
As his tongue and teeth destroyed my mouth, his hands slid down my arms to find my wrists. He closed his hands around them, then forced them behind my back.
I winced from the awkward position.
"Did I hurt you?"
I shook my head. It did hurt--just a bit--but I damn well wasn't going to tell him that.
He tightened his grip, forcing the angle even more and making me cry out--because this did hurt--but I liked it. I liked being at his mercy. I liked knowing that I was under his control. And I especially liked what I realized he was doing with my now-destroyed panties--twining them around my hands and wrists to bind my arms behind my back.
He led me to the couch, then had me bend over the arm so that I was facing the seat cushion. He bent over me, his sweats brushing my bare bottom and his chest grazing my back. He nipped my ear with his teeth even as he thrust a finger deep inside me.
I wasn't expecting it, and I cried out in both surprise and pleasure. I was wet--god, had I ever been wetter?--and my body clenched greedily around him, wanting so much more. Wanting everything I could force him to give me.
"What if I told you I wanted to hurt you?" He pulled the finger out, then thrust in again--hard--this time with two fingers, then again with three. And each time I pulled the sensation tight around me, a welcome blanket, because this was what I wanted, to let go, to be free, to be his.
"What if I told you it got me hard? And that sometimes I just lose my grip? There are loads of shit I have to deal with, Kat, and you don't need any more crap in your life."
"But I need you," I murmured.
"What would you do," he continued, as if he hadn't heard me, "if I told you all that? If I said that I got off on the pain. That I like it. That I need it. Would you finally get it through your thick skull that you're in over your head with me? Would you finally run?"
"No," I whispered, breathing hard. "I'd beg. I'd beg you to use me. To hurt me. To do whatever you want to me." I tilted my head so that I could see a little bit of him. "You make me feel, Cole. And oh, god, I want to feel more."
His weight pressing on my back lessened a little. "What the hell did you say?"
"I mean it, Cole. I've never--"
"Done this?"
"No. I mean, yes. I've never done this. But I've never--" I drew in a breath. Considering he had me naked over the side of a couch with my ass in the air, I was being ridiculously prudish and shy with my words. "I've never been this turned on. That's what I wanted to say."
Gentle hands closed around my waist as he helped me stand. Then he moved to the sofa, sat properly, and tugged me down as well so that I was straddling him, my knees on the cushions on either side of him, and my sex completely open to him.
He took full advantage of the position, and thrust three fingers inside of me. "Tell me," he said. "Tell me how you feel."
"Aroused," I said.
"No--ride me while you talk."
"I--what?"
The hand that wasn't twisting lazily inside me was on my waist, and in demonstration it eased me up and then back down again so that I was fucking his fingers. "I don't think I can do this with my hands tied."
"You'll do that and more," he promised. "Right now, I want you to tell me."
I lifted myself, my thigh muscles straining a bit as it had been a while since I'd had a decent workout. But it was worth it. I sank deep on him, hard, and he thrust upward each time I pistoned down, driving himself deeper and deeper inside me. He was filling me, and the sensation was magnificent.
And that, coupled with the brush of his hand against my clit, had my whole body tingling with promise. And, yes, with the hope that maybe--just maybe--I would actually explode in Cole's arms tonight.
He reached out and twisted my nipple hard, an interesting touch that had me gasping as a billion electrical sparks s
eemed to skitter all over my body to finally gather at my clit, taking me closer--so very much closer.
"You've stopped talking," Cole said. "I want to hear. Tell me. Make me feel what you feel."
"You've set me on fire. Like those stunt players who let the blue flames writhe all over their body. I think I'm the flame, Cole. I feel like my whole body is my center. Like you could brush the pad of your thumb over my nipples and I'd explode into a million pieces."
"They are wonderfully sensitive," he said, teasing my areola by drawing soft lazy circles, then flicking my sensitive nipple hard with his fingertip.
I cried out in surprise when he did that, and my sex clenched tight around his fingers, still deep inside me.
"I think the lady likes that. We'll have to try nipple clamps next time," he said, and I almost wept with joy knowing that there would be a next time.
I didn't know exactly what I'd found in Cole's arms. A new side of myself? A new type of pleasure? Was it just Cole I would react this way for? Or had I discovered an as-yet-unexplored side of my sexuality?
I didn't know. All I knew for certain was that I would do whatever he wanted me to.
"Considering how hard I am and that I've got my hand in your cunt, this may seem out of the blue. But you crossed the line into bitch mode today, Catalina."
"Bitch mode! I did not. I was just--"
"And that requires a punishment," he said, firmly enough to shut me up.
"Oh." I squirmed a bit, which had some rather delicious results from the way I rubbed against his hand.
"Have you ever been spanked?"
"No." I meant it literally. I'd never even been spanked as a child.
"Turn around," he said as he withdrew his fingers. "Over my knee."
My first reaction was to ask him if he'd lost his marbles. But I knew he hadn't. As far as sex went, my experience had been pretty vanilla, but I read books and magazines, and I knew spanking was reasonably common and, if the articles were any indication, highly arousing.
I also knew that it was very low on the serious BDSM totem pole, and I could only wonder what I'd graduate to once Cole decided it was time to remove the kid gloves.
The thought--and the possibilities--made me shiver.
