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fifteen
“What…?”
“You heard me,” Cole says thickly, those dark eyes hooded.
It must be a trick or a ploy to convince me this means nothing to him, but what did it matter? I can’t resist him. A hundred times I nearly let him have my mouth. Cole is unraveling me, pulling me deeper into the quicksand, and I’m doing nothing to stop it.
No! I am still in control.
I inhale sharply through my nose and my hand snakes out to grip his hair. That lock that is forever falling over his brow, tormenting me. I use it to yank his head back. His mouth opens, his breath harsh and—goddamn him, Cole runs his tongue over his parted lips, readying himself for me. A hint of triumph is mixed with the desire that is pouring out of him.
With a snarl, I force him to his knees while freeing my cock from my pants. It rubs against his lips, but he refuses to take it. With my other hand, I grip his jaw and squeeze. I must be hurting him—Iwantto hurt him, so he’ll come to his senses and escape me and my plan to ruin him. But he only grunts and keeps his mouth clenched tight.
I bend and put my lips to his ear. “You’re going to open for me, Cole. You’re going to open and take my cock down your throat.”
He makes a sound in his chest, his eyes full of pure need as he struggles—weakly—against my grip. My thumb presses in that delicate spot just below his cheekbone, and his mouth opens with a small groan.Mygroan. Cole takes me deep the same instant his lips part, and I go dizzy at the sudden sensation. Too good. Too perfect. I release his jaw as he takes me in and out, running his tongue up and down my cock, then sucking me hard.
What is happening…?
I’ve done this so many times, but this is different. Something’s not right…and yet it’s more perfect than I’ve ever known. There’s something behind Cole’s lust. A desire for me that has nothing to do with what he can get from me.
He takes a gasping breath. “Fuck my mouth, Ambri. Give it to me.”
His words are like fuel to a fire I can barely contain. My hand in his hair tightens its grip again, and my hips thrust. It’s too much; his eyes are watering, but he’s ravenous for me. On his next inhale, he puts a hand around my cock, never relenting while he sucks in air, and then takes me deep again.
I can’t resist. My head falls back as I do something I never do—surrender. To a human. To him. To the sensations he’s creating in me. Sensations I’ve felt a thousand times but are somehow more intense, more precious, because they’re coming fromhim.
Quicksand…
The climax that is building in me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It coalesces at the base of my spine, and my entire world collapses to just Cole’s mouth, his tongue, and the sounds of want he makes as he takes me, as if he wants to swallow me whole.
I shudder and tense all over as the wave crashes. Cole doesn’t relent. He sucks mercilessly, then takes my cock to the back of his throat, gripping my hips as I come hard. So hard, my knees buckle and I have to prop myself on the chair. He takes everything, not slowing or stopping until I’m spent. Until he’s swallowed every last drop of ecstasy he created.
Then the perfect wet heat of his mouth leaves me, and I tuck myself back into my pants and blink my eyes open. Cole is smiling and breathing hard, his eyes still wet.
“I hope that was okay,” he says with that crooked, charming grin of his that threatens to wreck me.
Before I can find my voice, he stands and moves in to kiss me and I rear back.
“It’s okay,” he says softly. “I won’t.”
He plants a lingering kiss on my neck, soft and warm. I feel that kiss everywhere. Even in the parts of me I thought had been burnt out. It seeps in the cracks, infiltrating me. Making me weak for want of him. For more of this…
“Get out,” I hiss.
Cole pulls back with hurt swimming in his liquid dark eyes.
“Did you hear me?Get out!”
He takes a step away, holding my gaze a moment longer, and I feel him reading me. There is no anger or reproach, only a small nod of understanding as he gathers his coat.
At the door, he stops. “What about our work?”
“It can wait.”
“Until when?”
I don’t answer and he leaves, softly shutting the door behind him. I’m still gripping the back of the chair. With a roar, I send it flying into the fire. It’s an antique and smashes like kindling, the Victorian-era upholstery burning instantly.
