Corruption: Part Two (BDSM Flash Romance)

Cole’s back is the first thing I see when I wake up. He looks gorgeous, as always, his muscles rippling as he pulls on a fresh pair of underwear. In the last month, I’ve slept over more often than I’ve stayed home.

“Would it freak you out if I took a picture?” I ask, covering myself with the sheet before he turns around. He smirks at me, crawling over the bed to kiss me.

“Not if it’s a fair trade,” he murmurs against my neck, ripping the sheet away to expose me before cupping my breasts in his hands. “What did I say about modesty?” 

Arching my back into his touch, I dig my nails into his back, pulling him closer. “Overrated,” I sigh. He trails kisses over my shoulder, traveling down to my nipple which he bites and sucks until I moan.

“Are you hungry?” he asks as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to multitask right now. Stifling a laugh, I run my fingers through his hair, brushing over the short sides and winding them through the long pieces on top.

“I could eat.” Especially when he’s cooking. If it weren’t for the aerobics he puts me through every night, I would double in size staying here with him.

Without another word, he picks me up over his shoulder and slaps my ass, carrying me toward the kitchen.

“Wait,” I squeal, “my clothes.”

He clamps one arm over the backs of my thighs when I struggle, securing me in place. “Maybe I want to eat my breakfast off of you.”

Desire curls low and deep in my belly long after he puts me down and sets to work, tossing me a t-shirt he left on the couch. I’ve grown more used to being naked around him, not that I have much choice these days. But it doesn't stop me from shrugging into the shirt the second it’s in my hands.

Watching him cook never fails to make my chest ache, his face clearing of all the pent-up rage he normally wears, completely lost to his craft. He is truly an artist, even when the dish is as simple as an omelet.

I can feel myself getting attached, and I know it’s foolish to picture a future with him. But watching him work sets my mind racing after a host of daydreams, most of them featuring lazy Sunday mornings with him on the couch.

When he’s finished chopping vegetables and showing off with the pan, he sets two plates in front of me on the counter. The smell makes my mouth water, but before I can reach for one, he pulls it away. 

“You know, come to think of it, you were such a brat last night I’m not sure I should feed you.” That devilish look I've grown to crave is back on his face, daring me to protest. 

I stick my bottom lip out in a pout, leaning over the counter. “A brat, huh?” He was so rough with me last night it was worth it, but now I’m starving and he’s holding all the cards.

“Don’t be coy. If you want breakfast, you’ll have to earn it.” He takes a bite right in front of me, exaggerating the taste with an overly satisfied expression.

“How much is it going to cost me?” Pressing my lips together, I try to hide my excitement.

He considers, narrowing his eyes at me as he toys with ideas. “A red ass,” he decides, patting the countertop. “Bend over.”

I move to the short side and do as he says, shivering at the cold touch of the laminate. He puts one hand on the small of my back to hold me down and rubs the other over my backside, squeezing as he goes.

“Let’s go to fifteen, shall we?” he asks. “I want you to count.”

Fifteen seems a little light for what I was expecting. Each time I see him things get more intense as he finds new ways to mark me. “Yes sir.”

The first slap sends a jolt through my body and I am fully awake, clutching the counter as he prepares for the second.

“One.” I already know by now if I forget to count it will be worse. Part of me is tempted to disobey him, just to see what he will do. But the hunger wins out and I keep still, waiting for him.

“Good girl.” He spanks me a second time, sending a warm sting across my bottom. Each slap makes my blood rush, filling me with need. Why is it so fucking hot when he punishes me?

I continue to count while the blows come, each one harder than the last. He distributes them evenly, making satisfied noises when I whimper and grip the counter.

“Fifteen,” I gasp on the last one, laying my cheek on the bar. He steps back to admire his work, gripping his bulge as he does.

“Oh hell, baby,” he croons, sliding his hands underneath me to pull me up from the counter, holding my back to his front. “I love to see you quiver.”

I close my eyes as his hands explore my body, his fingers teasing at my opening. At this point, I wouldn’t mind skipping breakfast, but he pulls me toward a stool and seats me on his lap, pulling both plates over.

“You’ve earned it. Let’s eat.”

---

“Are you working tonight?” he asks, pulling my attention from my books. It is an unavoidable hassle that I should have to study while I’m here, but it’s impossible to say no to him. Every time he asks me to stay I melt into a yes, no matter how long I protest. 

“I am.” After typing out the last answer to my quiz, I look up to find him sitting on the opposite end of the couch, one foot propped on his ankle and looking sexier than anyone in sweats and a t-shirt has any right to.

He checks the clock on the wall and stands, holding a hand out for me. “I have plans for you today.” 

He seems to have plans for me every day, but I decide not to comment, following him to the bedroom where he scoops me up and tosses me on the bed. Squealing in surprise, I adjust myself as he crawls over me, stripping off my clothes with quick but sensual hands.

“What is that for?” I look past him, pointing to the large, metal hook that hangs down from a pulley in the ceiling in the corner of the room. It has been there since that first night, but I’ve never seen him use it.

“That,” he glances at the hook, clearly distracted, “is a good question. Do you trust me?” Once he has me naked, he reaches for the ropes he left on the floor last night and ties one of my wrists to the corner of the headboard.

“Why?” I do, of course, whether or not it’s rational. But the fact that he has to ask gives me pause. Lately, he doesn’t bother to ask questions, trussing me up however he pleases and waiting for me to protest.

He smiles, tying my other wrist to the opposite corner and then pulling me down by the ankles so my arms are completely outstretched. “Because that’s what this is all about. Trust.” 

I watch in silence as he retrieves more rope, binding my ankles to the bottom corners of the bed so I am spread eagle and unable to wiggle. As soon as he’s done, he pulls his shirt over his head and crawls over me again, raising his brows. 

“Well?” he asks. 

“I trust you,” I breathe, relishing his weight on top of me. His familiar scent has grown comfortable, to the point that I miss it when I’m in the dorms.

“Good.” He kisses me on the cheek, giving my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Because I’m not going to let you come.”

My back stiffens, the ropes making terrible sense all at once. “At all?”

“Not before work.” He shakes his head, trailing one finger over my belly. “We’ll see about tonight.”

I swallow, biting the inside of my cheek. He’s a big fan of edging, and I think I’m becoming one, too. But he’s never withheld an orgasm altogether.

“Don’t be scared.” He rubs my cheek, touching my lips with his thumb. “We’re just testing your limits. You can always say no if it’s too much.”

“Okay.” The word is small and ineffectual. Most of the time, I feel powerful with Cole, like he has unlocked some animal part of me that longed to be set free. But suddenly I feel exposed. By the end, Nick never cared if I finished. Most of the time he didn't even notice. 

He cocks his head, bending down to give me another kiss. “You’ve liked everything we’ve done so far, right?”

I can’t think of a single memory with him that doesn’t make my skin tingle. But I can’t deny the fear blossoming in my gut, either. “Yes,” I answer at last because it’s true. So far he hasn’t done anything crazy.

Rubbing his hands up and down my body, massaging me from my elbows to my thighs, he scoots down so he has better access between my legs.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything. Right now I’m just trying to figure out what you like.” A secret smile enters his face while he waits for permission. “I want to teach you what your body is capable of.”

Thinking back to that first time, I close my eyes and find my courage. He’s not like any other man I’ve been with, and I’ve never been a quitter. When I open my eyes, I nod at him, sucking in a deep breath.

His face changes the second he has my permission, his posture straightening. Slipping two fingers inside me, he rubs my front wall slowly. 

“That’s my good girl. Always ready.” He continues to finger me until I moan, twisting at the ropes to try and close my legs. But the ropes are viciously tight and I can’t move so much as an inch.

His touch is expert, his fingers exploring me, stretching me like my body belongs to him. In a way, it does, I suppose. I can see his bulge from here, and I long to have him inside me. 

“Fuck me,” I plead, but he shakes his head, reaching for the vibrator.

“Naughty little slut,” he purrs, keeping pressure with one hand low on my abdomen while he touches the vibrator to my clit. “I decide when I fuck you, remember?”

My back arches off the bed and I bite my lip, so close to falling over the edge I can feel the first signs of an orgasm. But he knows me too well, and the second I get close he stops, turning his attention to my breasts.

“Mm,” I moan, wishing desperately that I could touch him. He tortures me with kisses, massaging my breasts, my arms, my backside before diving below again, keeping eye contact with me as he taps my clit with his tongue.

“Do you like that?” 

“Yes.” More than I could have ever imagined before him. I had no idea what I was missing out on until he brought me into his bed, and I have no desire to go back.

He bites the inside of my thigh, just enough to make me yelp. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” Another moan escapes me as he laps at me with his tongue, using his fingers to bring me to the precipice.

It goes on for what seems like hours, as he switches back and forth between his hands, his tongue, and the vibrator.

“That’s time,” he says at last when the clock hits noon. I am a whimpering, soaking mess beneath him, my clit so swollen even the air that touches it feels like a caress.

“Please,” I whisper, even though I know the answer. He pulls his sweats down enough to free his erection, sliding it into me with slow precision.

“You know I love it when you beg.” He pumps in and out of me a couple of times, his abs flexing with each stroke. It is sweet, agonizing torture to have him inside me, knowing this is as far as it will go; he’s moving too slow to make me finish.

When my body begins to respond, he pulls out of me, stroking himself while I watch, helpless and horny as all hell.

I close my eyes and wriggle my hips, but it’s no use. He continues to jerk, watching me with heady eyes that set my blood aflame. The closer he gets, the more his jaw tenses, until the vein in his neck throbs.

“Come for me,” I whisper, desperate for him to finish despite the emptiness between my legs. He does, making a mess of my stomach with a feral moan.

“I fucking love seeing you covered in my cum, princess.” Grabbing my jaw, he kisses me like a drowning man in search of air only I can provide. “Think you can hold on until tonight?”

His face is hopeful, but part of me knows he will let me finish if I say no. Eager to please him, I nod my head, shifting as much as the ropes will allow.

He kisses my cheek and unties my wrists before reaching for a towel to clean off my stomach. “So fucking sexy,” he murmurs, kissing my thighs before he unties my ankles.

“By the end of your shift you’re going to be so needy, you’ll beg for it.” The threat sends a jolt through my stomach, down to my groin.

“Don’t I always?” Batting my lashes, I scoot off the bed and head straight for the bathroom.

Safely inside, and out of his gaze, I put my hands on either side of the sink and stare at my reflection. There is something strangely satisfying about my lingering need. But even after I wash up and step into clean underwear, I feel off.

“Can you stay tonight?” he asks when I return, changing into the dull black polo shirt and tight black pants of my uniform. “For what I have planned, you won’t want to be alone after.”

“Yeah, I don’t have class tomorrow.” Even I can hear the distraction in my voice.

He grabs my wrist and spins me to face him, pulling me close to his chest. “Hey. Say the word and I’ll let you come. We can slow down if you need to.”

But I don’t want to slow down. I want to see the look on his face when I accomplish this—that same triumphant glory he wore the first time we slept together. Something inside me steps up to the challenge, and I shake my head.

“Tougher than I look, remember? And it just so happens I have a change of clothes in my car I’ve been dying to let you see.”

He bites his lip and kisses me, winding his fingers into my hair. “That’s my girl.”

My girl. The words make my heart stutter, and I know I am in trouble. Every time he says something like that it makes my blood race. But what happens when he’s had his fill of teaching me?

I have to believe that one day he will tire of this and send me packing with nothing more than skin-deep memories and the faint scent of his shampoo to remind me it was real. 

“We’re going to be late.” Slipping my hands into his back pockets, I squeeze his firm ass and let him kiss me one more time. He takes my hand and leads me to the door, and for this one moment, I let myself believe everything is normal and my daydreams might actually come to pass.

Even if it does end up being temporary, I already know it was worth it.

---

“Dressing on the side,” I repeat for the third time to the family at table four. It is very nearly impossible to focus in my current state, but I haven’t messed up an order yet. 

Still, every time someone talks to me I have to stare them down to take in their words or I will lose myself to my imagination.

It doesn’t help that Cole won’t stop flashing me looks every time I pick up an order, adding to the growing wetness in my panties that cannot be tamed.

“Have you seen the way Cole is looking at you?” Angela asks me on her way to the drink machine. 

“No,” I lie, resisting the urge to stare at him right this second.

She looks over my shoulder, blushing at whatever she sees. “That man is doing you with his eyes right now. What did you do to him?”

If only I knew. What I wouldn’t give to crawl inside his head and read his every thought. At least then I would know where we stand.

“I already told you as much as I’m allowed.” Shrugging at her, I take my drinks and walk away before she can badger me for more information. Cole would lose his shit if I went spreading his business all over the restaurant.

On my way to the table, Gary appears out of thin air in my path and I nearly spill the drinks in my hand, swearing under my breath. “Don’t forget to offer the special tonight. We need to get through all the shrimp or it’ll—”

“Go bad. I know, Gary.” Stop finding excuses to talk to me, I wish I could add. He leaves me with a glare, off to prey on his next victim. For the next two tables, I fantasize about shoving the heel of my hand into his nose on the day I quit.

Something tells me he’s the type to press charges.

“How you holding up?” Cole asks softly through the warmer when I pick up my next plate. “Ready to beg yet?”

Pursing my lips to keep from smiling, I challenge him with my eyes. “Haven’t even broken a sweat.”

He laughs, watching me all the way through the double doors of the kitchen. We both know he’s on to me. My skin is so sensitive a slight breeze could turn me on right now.

Realizing what he had in mind from the beginning, I can’t believe I ever doubted him. The discomfort is certainly worth the hum in my veins. And I don’t hate the fact that I’m walking around with a dirty little secret only the two of us know.

“Are you alright? You look flushed.” Angela squints at the computer, looking for the right discount for the special.

Her question makes my blush deepen. Can she tell I’m practically squirming? “Yeah, I’m good. Halfway done, so it’s all downhill from here.” And then Cole can take me home and do what he does best.

“Someone’s eager to get home. Is he going to be waiting for you? Let me guess, wearing nothing but an apron?” She wiggles her eyebrows, making suggestive eyes toward the kitchen. 

“Stop that.” Swatting her hip, I check automatically to see if Gary is stalking us, waiting for another excuse to yell at me. 

She prints the check and winks, making kissy faces at me. “I’m too impressed to be jealous. Unless we were all wrong about him and it turns out he’s a bottom?”

As she walks away I simply shake my head at her, struggling to keep any answers off my face. As if Cole could ever be a bottom.

By the time my break arrives, I am too wired to eat and too distracted to do much of anything else. At least I can give my feet a break.

“Don’t bother coming back if you’re late,” Gary snaps, adjusting his tie and looking poignantly at the clock.

My jaw clenches. Before Cole, I might have cowered, but I refuse to back down now. “I don’t steal time, Gary.” If anything, he owes me a bonus. God knows the owner has been patting him on the back thanks to all my hard work.

“Best not to start now, then.” His beady eyes search me for a weakness, looking for anything to latch onto and exploit. Bastard.

“I’ll be back on time.” Stalking past him, I march straight through the kitchen toward the employee exit. Cole follows me out, waiting for the door to close before he grabs hold of my hands.

“Everything okay?” he asks. 

I nod, determined not to let Gary get to me. “What are you doing out here? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Marco’s covering for me. I figured you’d be a little...tense.” The glint in his eye reminds me of the ache between my legs. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened?”

He’s using what I’ve come to recognize as his dom voice, and I know he won’t be convinced by a lie. “It’s nothing important. Gary’s still giving me shit, that’s all.”

“Do you want me to knock some sense into him?” He raises his brow, something very near excitement on his face. I always knew he hated Gary, but I didn’t realize he was looking for an excuse to do something about it.

“Please don’t,” I chuckle, imagining the hellfire that would rain down if Gary had another excuse to hate me.

He nods, backing me toward the wall and moving his hands to my face. “Well, I can at least distract you for a while.” His lips are on mine in the next second, stealing my breath.

I could spend the next decade kissing this man and never get tired of it. His stubble scratches at my chin, but I don’t care, wrapping my legs around his waist when he lifts me.

“How am I supposed to work when all I wanna do is take you into the nearest bathroom and ravage you?” he says quietly, close to my ear.

“I know the feeling,” I breathe, moaning when he rocks his hips, rubbing his erection against me.

He uses the wall to support my weight while he feels me up, sliding one hand beneath my shirt to cup my breast.

“We’re in public,” I squeal, struggling against him. But he holds me fast, laughing into my neck.

“So?”

Heat floods my body, taking the place of rational thought. He’s so unbelievably sexy he can get away with anything. When his fingers skirt over my waistband, my whole body shivers.

“Ready to cave?” he asks, tracing his tongue over mine. “I could make you come right here, right now.”

The muscles in my shoulders tense, begging me to accept his request. But I am not ready for this agony to end. “No, sir.”

“Good girl.” He kisses me again, and this time he does not let me go until my internal timer sounds and I push him away. 

“I can’t be late. Gary threatened me before I came out here.” Out of breath and flushed is better than late, though if Angela didn’t guess what was going on before, she will now.

His face hardens, his jaw going rigid. “He did what?” 

I drop my legs from his waist and he lets me down, keeping me pinned to the wall. Dammit. I shouldn’t have said anything. “I can handle it, okay?”

“What did he say to you?” Fire blazes behind his eyes, a different chemical than the one that makes my skin melt. Sometimes I forget about his reputation. It’s hard to think of him as the resident bad boy when I spend most nights cuddled up against his chest.

“He said he’d fire me if I was late.” I don’t have time for this. “I have to go.” Pushing him off me, and risking his ire, I squeeze out from the wall. He puffs his chest and heads for the door, clearly on a mission.

“Wait!” Grabbing his arm, I yank him back as hard as I can, knowing he could wrench out of my grip in a heartbeat. “Please don’t say anything. I don’t want you to get involved.” 

“That dickhead has treated you like shit long enough.” He points an accusing finger at the door. “I’m just going to set him straight.”

Shaking my head, I move to my next defense, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Please. Let me handle this.”

His arms curl around me on instinct, holding me close as his chest heaves. The feel of his heart beating against my cheek is better than watching him beat Gary’s unsuspecting ass, anyway.

“I didn’t know you were so protective,” I say, in an effort to distract him. 

He sighs and puts one hand on the back of my neck, kissing the top of my head. “I protect what’s mine.”

I am grateful he can’t see my face against his chest—see the victorious smile on my lips. If it weren’t my job on the line, I would stay here and let him hold me. But I know my time is running out.

“I have to go.” Reluctant to walk away, I force myself to break contact so I can think straight. Nothing in my brain seems to work right when he touches me.

He spanks my ass on my way inside, and as I turn to gape at him I run smack into Gary’s salmon tie.

“Well well,” he says, looking us up and down. “Is this what my staff is doing during work hours?”

“She’s on break.” Cole folds his arms, looking down on Gary by at least four inches.

Gary’s sneer is enough to make me back away, but Cole doesn’t budge. “She is,” Gary says, “but you’re not.”

“Fire me, then.” He shrugs. My eyes widen and I have to resist the urge to reach for his hand. If he loses his job over me I will never forgive myself. They stand at odds until my skin crawls, anxious for the tension to dissipate.

Gary may not be able to win in a fight, with his pudgy face and short arms, but he can make our lives miserable without too much effort. Even Cole can’t be immune.

“Get back to work before I change my mind,” he says at last, stepping aside so we can pass. Cole rubs my shoulder with one hand on the way in, giving it a squeeze before he has to turn for the kitchen and I have to head for the floor.

Gary follows after me, and I can feel his stare burning a hole in my back the whole way. “If you think you’re going to get ahead here by fucking the chef,” he says the second we exit the kitchen, “I wouldn’t count on it.”

I am too shocked to answer, watching him scurry away with my mouth hanging open. What the hell is his problem with me? He has never been friendly to the wait staff, apart from when a new girl starts and he spends the first month of her shifts flirting with her, but now it seems we’re in an all-out war.

“What was that?” Angela asks, looking after him with an arched brow.

Shaking my head, I re-tie my apron and grab a stack of menus. “No clue. But I’m about one lecture away from quitting.”

“Don’t you dare.” She grabs my wrist, squeezing until I make eye contact. “I won’t survive here without you.” 

“I may not have a choice.” She lets me go when I tug out of her grip, and I shake the thought away. I need this job too much to quit. But if anyone gave a shit about hostile work environments, Gary would have been fired ages ago.

My shift is torture after that, with every spare minute spent looking over my shoulder to make sure Gary isn’t watching. Angela promises to warn me if she catches him lurking anywhere, but it is easier to keep my head down than to risk his ire.

“Don’t worry about him,” Cole tells me on my way to the bathroom. How he can stay so self-assured is beyond me, but I do not share his confidence. My student loan isn’t going to pay itself back, and if I don’t want to graduate under a mountain of debt, I can’t afford to get fired.

By the time the night ends, my hands are raw from scrubbing tables twice just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Gary circles like the vulture he is, but even he has nothing to complain about.

Clocked out and ready to throw in the towel, I drop on the bench by the lockers and rub my eyes. In spite of what a shit day I’ve had, I can still feel the effects of this morning’s salacious endeavors. Right now it’s enough of a distraction to make me forget Gary and his bullshit.

Rooting through my bag in search of the spare panties I packed this morning, I find nothing but my wallet and a couple of emergency tampons. 

“What the hell?” Searching every last pocket, I come up empty again.

“Looking for these?” His voice startles me, and I look up to find Cole leaning against the door, displaying my panties on his index finger with a wicked look in his eyes.

---

“You stole my underwear?” I ask, unable to hide my blush. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a white t-shirt, complete with a black leather jacket and a bag slung over one shoulder. The sight is almost too much to handle as he stuffs my panties in his front pocket, stalking toward me like the lion he is.

“Did I say you could change your panties?” Grabbing hold of my hips, he kisses my cheek.

A shudder rolls through me at his tone, and I bite my lip. “No.” 

“No what?” He tips my chin up, looking down at me through dark lashes.

“No, sir,” I gulp, squirming beneath his touch. Part of me wants to jump him here and now, but something tells me all his taunting today has been a test. He wants me to wait. 

At least he lives close by.

“I thought we could go to dinner.” He brushes the backs of his fingers over my cheek.

My throat tightens at the thought. “Dinner?” I squeak. I expected him to take me straight home. Maybe grill up some food after, if he was still hungry after devouring me. I never expected him to make me wait.

He nods, his lips quirking up on one side. “You have to be hungry after working all that time.”

“Not for food,” I complain, running my finger down his chest. He catches it before I reach his waistband, winding his fingers through mine.

“I thought you hadn’t even broken a sweat?” He asks, pressing his thigh between my legs. “Lost your resolve already?”

“Fuck off,” I laugh, pushing him away. 

Darkness flashes across his vision, dropping his brows low. My stomach hits the floor and I bite my lip, waiting for him to answer. 

“That’s going to cost you,” he says eventually, excitement merging with reproach. “Now get changed. It’s time to go.”

He walks out quickly, betraying his own impatience. He’s better at this game than I am, but I know he wants me, too. I just have to figure out the right buttons to push.

In the relative privacy of the lockers, I begin to reconsider my outfit. It seemed like a good idea when I bought it, but now that I’m holding the black miniskirt and blue sheer top in my hands, they seem like they belong to someone else. 

And he brought his bike today, which means I’ll be straddling him on the back of a Harley in a miniskirt. Great. What if he laughs at my attempt to match his style?

In any case, there is nothing left to do about it—unless I want to go to dinner in my uniform. Ignoring the little fluttery sensations in my belly, I change into the skirt and long-sleeved top—which is completely see-through and looks ridiculous on me.

Shit. I am such a poser. Hopefully, he doesn’t tease me about it too much. 

It takes every ounce of courage I have left to walk out of the restaurant, where I find him waiting with a cigarette in his mouth and one hand in his pocket. He is so outrageously attractive I almost walk right back inside to change.

He does a double-take when he turns to face me, his gaze lingering on the black bra that is clearly visible beneath my top.

“Holy fuck. You’re a meal.” Sauntering toward me, he drops the cigarette and nods his approval. His words send a little trill over my skin, but I am still self-conscious under his gaze.

“It seemed like a good idea at the store,” I grab one elbow, trying to make myself smaller, “but now I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”

He shakes his head, biting his lip and cocking his head while he stares at my legs. “If I didn’t have plans, I’d fuck you right here and now. No mercy.”

I can’t help my smile—or the sensation between my legs—especially when he takes my hand and leads me to the bike, placing a helmet over my head.

“Safety first.” He smirks, perfectly at ease as I take my spot behind him, the warmth of his back seeping into my body. Wind rushes past us, biting at my exposed legs. But it doesn’t matter, as long as I have him to hold on to.

He stops sooner than I expect, leading me to a back street I’ve never seen in all my years in Santa Fe.

“Where are we going?” I raise a brow, keeping close to his side. People bustle past us, most of them in a hurry to get to their destinations at this late hour. But he is unhurried, his long legs taking leisurely strides that only exacerbate my need.

“You’re not dressed for the place I had planned,” he says, tapping my nose with his finger.

I hadn’t even thought about that. Then again, I didn’t expect dinner at all. “Oh, I’m sorry—”

“Fuck ‘em. This is infinitely better.” He guides me to a tiny adobe building with an outdoor patio, complete with lights and colorful flags overhead. We are the only customers to sit outside in the cool air, but large heaters chase the cold away.

“Best Mexican food in town,” he says, pulling out a chair for me before sliding his closer to sit beside me. I can’t help but think this is different than all the other times we’ve been together. He is never shy to feed me, but this is the first time he’s taken me anywhere public. The first real date.

“How did you find it?” He keeps me so busy most of the time, I still don’t know much about him. Which may be for the best, all things considered. But I don’t want to be strangers—not when he has seen more of me than any other person I’ve met. 

He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair. “It was my brother, actually. First time he came to visit he dragged me down here.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Leaning on the arm of my chair, I look up at him, trying to picture him as a child. I’d be willing to bet he was a troublemaker then, too.

“Two,” he nods. “Gavin and Mark.”

“Younger?” It seems obvious from the tone of his voice—protective and annoyed at once.

He takes my hand, massaging my palm with his thumb. “Gavin’s my twin, actually. Mark is younger.”

How has this never come up? 

Because he only ever wants to fuck you, my subconscious sneers, but I bat the thought away. It’s only been a couple of weeks, and he has already spent more time with me than anyone else I know of in all the years I’ve been at the restaurant.

“Identical twin?” God help me if I ever have to be in the same room with them, though I doubt Gavin shares Cole’s predilections. Maybe they’re opposites and he’s more of a boy scout type. Straight-backed with cropped hair and glasses.

“Fraternal.” He shakes his head, but the waitress appears before he can say anything more. “Trust me?” he asks, arching a brow. I nod, hiding a secret smile and pressing my legs together under the table. 

He orders for me, thanking the woman before she leaves. Such good manners in public, though I know what will happen when we leave. If he ever takes me back to his place, that is.

“What about you?” he asks, clearly tired of my probing. “Any siblings?”

“I have a sister,” I shrug, idly wondering if she’s still in Connecticut. “We were never close.” With almost ten years between us, she was out of the house a decade before I graduated high school.

He takes my hand, drawing little patterns on the inside of my palm with his finger. “Sounds lonely.”

“I never thought of myself as lonely,” I shrug, leaning close enough to smell his cologne, “but I guess it was, yeah.” Marie was always off with some boy or bragging about her new job.

“My parents weren’t exactly planning on another baby,” I add before I can think of all the reasons I shouldn’t. It took me a full year to psych myself up enough to introduce Nick to my family, and in hindsight, I wish I hadn’t.

He brushes my hair out of my face and pulls me in for a kiss, releasing my hand so he can rub my thigh. “The best things in life aren’t planned.” 

My cheeks warm, not just at the compliment but at the look on his face. His eyes are wide and intent, almost beseeching as he stares into mine. There is so much to decipher in that look it would take me hours to pull it all apart, but before I can decide what any of it means, the waitress returns.

“Let’s eat.” Clearing his throat, he sits up straight and turns his attention to our plates.

The food is delicious, of course, but it is nothing compared to the way he finds excuses to touch me. Every few minutes he brushes his fingers over my arm, my waist, my legs. And every time he does it makes me clench my thighs together.

He is easier to talk to when he’s fed, I’ve noticed. The only personal details I ever manage to drag out of him are accompanied by food. 

He talks about his mother with a sense of something close to wonder but tainted by pity. His father is a different story. Although he won’t say what it is, I can tell from his stories they did not get along. Is that why he’s so aggressive?

The night wears on, but as anxious as I am to get out of these panties, I love listening to the sound of his deep, musical voice. He drops so many of his defenses, his face becoming more and more animated as he tells me stories from his childhood.

“Gavin is the one who stole it,” he laughs, recounting the story of his first run-in with the cops. 

“All that for a bicycle?” I ask. Seems like quite the hassle for such a small prize. I was seven the first time I tried to steal a pack of gum, and I felt so guilty I never did it again.

He holds out a finger to correct me. “It was a nice bike. But he should have known better. Kenneth was always a whiny little prick.”

 “And you just talked your way out of it.” It shouldn’t be hard to believe, given his expertise in talking me into things. But it’s harder to imagine him wooing a couple of cops than it is a willing woman.

The smile on his face takes him far away as he relives the incident. “They followed us to make sure we returned it. But then they just left.”

“So Gavin corrupted you.” Not that I’m complaining—he is just about the sexiest thing on the planet with his devil-may-care attitude and giant tattoo. Though part of me still wonders at the demons that made him that way.

He grabs my chair and turns it toward him, checking over my shoulder before he reaches one hand up my skirt, rubbing his thumb over my panties. I gasp when he touches me, my mouth dropping open. 

“And now I’m corrupting you,” he whispers, flames dancing behind his eyes.

“Cole.” Pressing my lips together, I grab his bicep, but he won’t let me go.

“Should we order dessert?” he asks, kissing my cheek.

I can’t help it. Leaning forward, I rub myself on his thumb, taking a deep breath when he touches my clit through the cotton. “No.”

“No dessert, huh? What should we do, then?” His hand retreats from my skirt and I grab the collar of his jacket to keep him close.

“You know what I want.” What I need more than anything else. Right the hell now.

But he’s not going to let me off that easy. The hard line of his jaw stands out as he stares at me, expectant. “Then say it.”

The waitress is nowhere in sight, but somehow it still feels like we are being watched. What the hell has he done to me? I would straddle him right now if it wouldn't get us both arrested.

“I want you,” I whisper, grabbing the back of his neck.

He shakes his head, pulling back a little. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

It’s only an inch. He is still close enough for me to touch, but the distance is too great. I need him like I’ve never needed anyone in my entire life. 

“For the love of God, Cole, take me home and fuck me.” Twining my fingers in his hair, I pull him closer, kissing him like my life depends on it. 

He groans into my mouth, lighting the fire in my belly. Pulling me up from the chair, he digs in his pocket with one hand, keeping the other on my face while he kisses me, his tongue insistent and hurried.

After dropping a pile of bills on the table that must be at least twice the cost of the meal, he pushes me out of the dining area, finally breaking the kiss. 

“Bossy little thing,” he murmurs, taking my hand and half-dragging me back to where his bike is parked. He wastes no time getting us on the bike, zipping around what little traffic remains all the way to his apartment building.

On any other night, I might have a heart attack—he drives like he owns the road and everyone else is trespassing. But tonight it is all I can do not to demand that he drive faster.

“Come here.” The second he parks, he picks me up. I welcome his advance, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist as he walks up the stairs, his hands on my bottom while I kiss him.

Victory courses through me at his impatience; his usually self-contained stoic face is nowhere to be seen as he props me against the door at the top of the stairs, sucking at my neck so hard I am certain to wake up with a hickey. 

My nails dig into his back while he fumbles with his keys in the door, out of breath by the time we burst into the darkened room.

“What have you done to me, woman?” he growls, too busy with me to watch where he’s going. He runs into the side table, knocking off the lamp there and swearing when it shatters on the floor.

 I push his jacket off his shoulders, holding my arms up when he claws at my shirt and pulls it over my head. Too many clothes, too many layers between my skin and his. 

My thighs are already weak from holding myself on his waist, but I would let them go numb before I would break contact now. He is part of me, as much as any limb. All this time I’ve been talking myself down and trying to prepare for the end, but I was kidding myself. 

While I was busy trying to stay afloat, he was burrowing so deep inside my mind that I know I will never be the same. Losing him now would almost certainly kill me.

“I need you,” I whimper, wishing I could tell him how much—tell him that no one has ever seen me the way he does. That I don’t want them to.

“I know, baby.” He pulls my hair, stumbling toward the bedroom while he unclasps my bra. “I know.” The second he puts me down, I reach for his belt, my fingers too slow while he rids himself of his shirt.

“Get on your knees,” he breathes, helping me with his belt and pushing me down by my shoulders. I obey, naked from the waist up and eager to please.

He can’t get his jeans off fast enough, pulling out his throbbing erection and backing me to the wall. Keeping my eyes on his, I lick up and down the shaft before taking him in my mouth, using my hand to work the bottom while my tongue swirls around him. 

The sound that escapes him is guttural, animal. His skin is soft and giving, at odds with the hardness beneath as I take him in deeper, his impressive length too much for my mouth. 

For a while he guides me, pulling my hair and biting his lip whenever I go deeper. God, I love it when he makes that face. 

“Show me how bad you want to come.” He braces himself with one hand on the wall above me, gripping my head with the other. “Choke on my cock, slut.”

He pushes my head down until I feel him in my throat, holding my head in place when I gag and try to wriggle away.

“Did I tell you to stop?” he asks, wrenching me to my feet. His broad chest pins me to the wall, his hips pressing into mine.

“No, sir.” All I can think about is his hard cock, pressing against me and making me shiver with anticipation. He grabs my jaw and turns my head to the side so he can nibble at my ear.

“What’s your safe word?” His voice is husky and low, sending a shockwave down my body and straight to my center.

“Pineapples,” I giggle, rubbing his arms while he teases me.

He forces me to look at him, his face serious and unyielding. “I’m going to be rough with you tonight. Use it if you have to. Understand?”

“Yes.” My stomach does a little flip, fear and anticipation mixing in my blood. He releases me and pulls his underwear up, heading for the top drawer of his dresser.

When he returns with rope, I hold my wrists out for him.

“Good girl.” Closing my palms together, he binds my hand in a more extensive knot than I have ever seen, the rope winding several inches down my wrists. After testing the knot by tugging me forward, he leads me to the corner of the room, by the window.

I do not bother to ask questions while he works, lowering the hook from the ceiling until he can attach it to the rope on my wrists. Was he already planning to use it? Or did my question this morning give him ideas?

Whatever the case, something tells me this is going to be different than all the times before.

“Don’t panic.” He raises the hook until it pulls me up on the balls of my feet. The position is uncomfortable but doable. “So far I’ve only left you with a few welts. Tonight,” his finger traces down my spine as he circles me, “I’m not going to stop until your ass is purple. Got it?”

“Yes.” Purple? I’m not sure how I feel about that, but he’s yet to do anything I didn’t like. Still, I can’t help but clench the muscles in my legs. He slaps my ass, so hard it makes me yelp.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” Blood rushes to the spot where he hit me, my skirt acting as feeble protection. He paces around to face me, running his tongue over the bottom of his teeth as he takes me in.

Reaching for the skirt, he shimmies it down my hips, taking his time once again. Gone is the rushed insanity of the stairs, replaced with the cool calm he reserves for times like this when I am at his mercy.

“You asked me to fuck you earlier. Are you sure you meant it?” He touches my inner thigh, inching closer to the line of my panties.

“Yes.” Nodding too fast, I pull against the ropes, powerless to make him come closer.

He pulls down my panties in the same slow, torturous way he did my skirt, keeping his eyes on my face the whole time. When he runs two fingers through my slit, they come away glistening.

“Such a needy little slut,” he smiles, sticking his fingers in his mouth. Good god, this man is going to kill me from sheer anticipation. “Want a taste?” 

Before I can answer, he kisses me, pulling me so close I can feel him rub against my pussy through his underwear. I can taste myself on his tongue, salty and sweet.

“Please let me come,” I plead when he breaks the kiss and pinches my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. “Sir.” I might spontaneously combust if he keeps taunting me.

“Oh baby,” he laughs. “You’re going to have to earn it.” Walking back to the dresser, he lays out some kind of thin chain on the bed, followed by a strap I can’t get a good look at and what looks like a wooden paddle.

Kneeling in front of me, he takes my legs and props them up over his shoulders so I am suspended in the air, the bulk of my weight hanging on the hook and stretching my shoulders. A satisfied grin builds on his face when I gasp.

Keeping his eyes on mine, he dips his tongue between my folds, teasing my clit with a quick, flicking motion.

“Oh shit,” I cry out, squeezing my thighs around him. He continues to explore, leaving no stone unturned until I writhe against the ropes, my whole body bucking with nowhere to go.

“No escaping now.” Too soon, he untangles himself from me and I am left standing on my toes again as he heads for the bed. “Nipple clamps.” He holds up the chain for me to see, pinching the two ends together.

“What’s the third one for?” The two in his hands are joined together, but a longer section of chain drops down to a third.

He chuckles, stalking toward me to fix the tweezer-like ends over my nipples. “I think you can figure that out.” He slides the little black stopper up until the clamps are tight enough to make me moan.

Before he attaches the third one, he fingers me with a slow, careful touch. “This one’s my favorite.” Situating my clit between the two ends, he tightens this one too, kissing me before he lets the chain drop.

“Fuck,” I gasp as the weight pulls all three of the clamps down. Pressure builds in my nipples, my clit, as he stands back to get a better look.

“Maybe I’ll just leave you like this.” He rubs his crotch and walks back to the bed, returning with the strap I saw earlier. “You can still talk through this.” He holds it up to show me, but I do not understand what it is I’m looking at until he commands that I open my mouth and sticks the red ball inside, fastening the straps around my head.

I am too embarrassed to attempt any speech, but the fear passes when he looks at me again, his arousal clear beneath the thin layer of his underwear. I can do this. For him.

“Time to see what happens to brats,” he says, reaching for the paddle and walking to stand behind me. My pulse is racing, my mind diving full speed into what will happen next.

For the first time since we started sleeping together, I fear I might not be cut out for this. The riding crop was sexy beyond belief, and I never knew how much I would enjoy being tied up until he did it. But this is the next level. I’m not sure I’m ready.

The first blow comes from his hand, shaking the chain and tugging on every clamp. I can’t help my groan, gripping the rope above me as my skin sings to life.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing my back with one hand. I nod, fighting the gag in my mouth. He spanks me again, this time on the other side. Again the clamps react, sending a strange sensation through my body all the way to my toes.

Small gasps and moans escape me as he continues, hitting a new spot every time to spread the wealth. After this morning, my skin heats quickly and I know without having to see that it is already red.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Make some noise.” Sliding two fingers inside me, he rubs my g-spot with his fingertips, making me quiver. It is hedonistic and uncontrollable, this need I have for him. He is everything my mother warned me to stay away from, and here I am drooling through a ball gag while he has his way with me.

The next time he spanks me, it is with the paddle. I cry out through the gag, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Pain ripples through me, reverberating halfway down my thighs.

“That pussy is so needy. Fucking dripping everywhere,” he murmurs, running his finger over the wet spot on my leg. I can feel the moisture gathering, rolling over my skin in a steady stream until it hits the arch of my foot.

Somewhere inside me, a voice whispers that this is wrong, that I should run far away and let this be the last he sees of me. But the louder, dominating voice is hungry for more.

I grip the ropes the next time he hits me, not caring anymore about the noise. Let the whole building hear me, for all I care. 

He takes more breaks with the paddle, using the downtime to massage my neck and run his hands over my body, pulling at the clamps when he circles me.

“You’re mine,” he whispers in my ear, sliding his hand from my throat all the way down to my pussy, pulling on the chain until I groan.

I cannot answer, too lost in the sensation to find words. The ache in my nipples is so deep it is all I can think about, even when the paddle comes down again and again.

“The clamps,” I manage through the gag, gasping for air as my ass stings. He abandons the paddle and walks around to face me, grabbing my waist with his strong, calloused hands.

“You have a magnificent body, Luce.” He brands me with the nickname, making me feel powerful all over again. How does he do that? How can he break me down to my most vulnerable and still make me feel like I am soaring?

“Perfect tits,” he adds, loosening the clamps just enough to yank them off, kissing my sternum. Blood rushes in and I throw my head back at the odd feeling, embracing the stinging warmth.

He pulls out his throbbing cock, pumping it a couple of times before he rips open a condom and rolls it down over his length, gloriously naked and ready in front of me. My body is one long line of exhaustion, but when he lifts my hips I wrap my legs around him, sighing when he enters me and bears some of my weight.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” he groans, lifting me with each roll of his hips so he can thrust deeper. I can do nothing but follow his lead, the rope scratching against my wrists as I feel him expanding me, filling me with the delicious girth of his erection.

“You’re so fucking big.” I do not know if he can understand me through the gag, but he starts to move faster, shifting to hold my thighs so he can get better leverage.

His cock rubs against me, pushing me toward the edge with every life-giving thrust. Still inside me, he loosens the clamp on my clit and pulls it off, catching my weight when my body seizes and something between a scream and a moan leaves my lips.

It is so much more powerful than my nipples, the blood rushing in to make my clit swell enough to feel it from the friction inside. He picks up the pace, holding me by the thighs and pushing in so deep my ass knocks against his legs, renewing the pain there.

“Come for me, little slut. Milk my cock with that tight ass pussy.” His voice is harried, his breath falling hard as he fucks me, taking everything I have to give.

Confusion sweeps over me, pleasure and pain mingling into something so much bigger than me it consumes my every thought. My walls clench around him and I surrender to the sensation, closing my eyes so my body can take over.

The orgasm burns through me like wildfire, stealing every inch of my skin and devouring everything in its path. He stills inside me while I lose myself, milking his cock just like he asked.

“Fuck,” he growls, and my eyes snap open to catch his expression when he comes, his jaw rigid. My chest heaves and the aftershocks go on for ages, stuttering and pulling him in deeper.

In spite of the pain creeping into my arms and shoulders, I roll my body to keep him inside me. He steps closer to give me better access, keeping his hands on my thighs while I rock against him, savoring the fullness until my muscles give out and I sag against him.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” he breathes, holding me by the small of my back while he reaches overhead to pull my wrists off the hook.

My arms fall over his shoulders  and he sinks to the ground, taking me with him. Everything hurts, from my fingertips to my toes, but beneath the pain I feel something like an octopus or a jellyfish—no longer solid but with limbs made of jelly.

He kisses my shoulder, pulling out of me and leaving me empty. But his arm locks tight around my waist and he removes the gag, hugging me close when my head falls on his shoulder.

“That was…” I can’t find the words. I could never have imagined that—not in all my edging-fueled fantasies today. He rubs a hand over my head, stroking my hair and rubbing all the way down my back.

“You are everything, baby. More than I could have asked for.” There is reverence in his voice like I have never heard before, but I can barely keep my eyes open.

“I’m so tired,” I whisper, my hands still tied together.

He stands immediately, carrying me toward the bathroom. “Not yet, love. We have work to do.”

I hear the faucet when he turns it on, but when he tries to set me down I cling to him. He laughs, uncurling my legs from his waist and pulling my arms over his head.

Ditching the condom in the wastebasket, he starts on the ropes, working quickly to free me while the tub fills the bathroom with steam.

“You were amazing.” Kissing my wrists, which are red and raw, he guides me to the tub, stepping in behind me.

“Can’t we do this tomorrow?” I pout. I’ve never been so tired in all my life. If he weren’t here to stop it, I’d be in serious danger of drowning.

He shakes his head, pulling me down into the water. It stings my skin, and I’m not sure I even want to look at my ass to see if he fulfilled his promise. “Trust me. You want to do this now.”

His hands move over my body, starting at my shoulders and working their way down, massaging all the way.

“I was afraid I couldn’t handle it,” I admit, leaning back against his strong chest. The water is soothing, with his steady arms around me to keep me safe. He wraps them around me, kissing the spot where my neck meets my shoulders.

“And how do you feel now?” he asks.

It’s a difficult question to answer. A few minutes ago, I was flying so high I couldn’t even see the ground. But the longer we soak, the more I begin to doubt myself.

“Good,” I answer anyway, shrinking against him.

“Was it too much?” Concern is evident in his voice, but I bite my tongue. Every time Nick asked me a question I spilled my guts. I told him things I had never said to anyone before, and now he’s out there with all my secrets, holding pieces of me I can’t take back.

Cole continues to kiss my neck, giving me a gentle squeeze when I don’t answer. But what am I supposed to say? I don’t even have a name for this feeling, let alone the sense to tell what he should know and what I should keep to myself.

If I start talking now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. He waits for a few minutes, silence hanging between us. Eventually he gives up, humming softly while he uses the loofah on the wall to clean me up.

“Come on. We need to take care of your bruises,” he says when he’s done with the soap, helping me out onto the rug. So he was true to his word. It doesn’t exactly help me put a name to the heavy feeling growing in my chest.

After wrapping me in a luxuriously soft towel, he turns me to face him, his brow drawn low over his eyes.

“Your sister was the favorite,” he says, and it is not a question. I nod, looking down at my feet. Even though I can’t see his face, I can feel his penetrating gaze.

“I imagine you had to fight for space growing up. It’s why you’re so tough at the restaurant. Why you’ve gotten so far.”

Again, I remain silent, keeping still with my eyes on the ground. He takes my wrists in his hands and forces me to look at him, the set of his face softer than I expect.

“You don’t have to fight for space with me,” he says, placing my hands on his bare chest. “I’m here. I want to help you.”

Biting my lip, I shake my head in search of something—anything—to say. “I don’t know what I feel.”

“So let’s talk about it.” He takes a bottle from the counter and leads me back to the bedroom, kicking the evidence of our exploits out of the way. “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

I want so desperately to say yes, and it wouldn’t be a lie. I have never had an orgasm like that in all my life, but something keeps me from saying the simple, tiny little word. Something that leaves me paralyzed.

“You feel guilty.” Understanding takes the place of concern, melting his features into something so unbearably sweet I want to cry. Pressing my forehead to his chest, I nod. 

What the hell is wrong with me? He is Adonis in the flesh, his muscled chest hard beneath me and yet so inviting.

“It’s called sub drop,” he sighs, “and it’s perfectly normal.”

“Sub drop?” Looking up at him, I search his eyes for answers. I thought I was just weaker than my expectations led me to believe.

He nods, dropping his hand to the small of my back to lead me to the bed. “Lie down and I’ll talk you through it.”

I do as he asks, surrendering the towel and lying face down on the bed. He sits next to me, squeezing the bottle into his hand. It is too thin to be lotion—it must be some kind of ointment, but it feels amazing when he rubs it into my skin, gently massaging it into my smarting backside.

“During a scene like that, your body is a livewire. The endorphins pumping through your blood are insane, but the comedown can be rough, especially when you’re new.” He works quickly, but his hands are thorough, his touch slowing my heart rate.

“So you’re not mad at me?” I ask, my voice so quiet I’m not sure he can hear me until he gapes at me, squeezing my thigh with a broad hand. I force myself to look at him, keeping my cheek on the mattress.

“Of course not. You held out longer than I expected. You did so good, baby.” He continues to massage my legs, never breaking contact. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear those words until he said them, but now that he has, a warm feeling pools in my chest.

Straddling my back just above my waist, he squeezes out more of the ointment and rubs it into my wrists, moving on to my shoulders where he digs into the sore spots, using the heel of his hands to work out the knots.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” he coos, rubbing the back of my neck with his thumbs. He is so close and so warm I want to curl up in his arms and stay there forever. But something lingers in the back of my mind, keeping the distance between us. 

He must sense it too, because the moment he finishes his massage he goes to the dresser for a clean t-shirt and helps me into it, reaching for his jeans to retrieve my stolen panties.

“Lace. That won’t be fun.” He purses his lips and drops them on the floor, handing me a pair of his instead. The sting in my skin has subsided a bit, but there is a deep soreness I know I will feel in the morning.

When I am dressed, he crawls over me on the bed and rests on his elbows, brushing my hair out of my face.

“You feel guilty.” Again, it is not a question. Has he always been this perceptive? I took his caveman-like grunts and general lack of speech as a sign of disinterest before, but now it’s like he sees everything.

Pressing my lips together, I nod, tracing a finger over his chin. 

“Why do you think that is?” he asks, brushing a thumb over my lips. I can tell he’s distracted by the way he stares at my mouth, but he is determined to get to the bottom of this.

“I feel...bad…” I whisper. “For liking it.” For begging him to fuck me and screaming when he spanked me, urging him on like some kind of deviant.

He fights a smile, touching his nose to mine. “There’s nothing wrong with arousal. Your body was made to feel pleasure.” Sitting up, he keeps me pinned beneath him, running his hands down the lengths of my arms. 

“Every nerve is designed to make you feel something. And pain and pleasure are closely tied.” His hands move over my breasts and down to my stomach, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you feel guilty when I touch you?”

“No.” But I do feel butterflies. And I’ve begun to crave him whenever we are apart.

Smirking, he leans down to kiss me, tracing his tongue over my bottom lip. The kiss is unhurried, building until I interlock my fingers behind his neck.

“How about now?” he asks, kissing my forehead when he pulls away. I shake my head, smiling at him as he moves down my body, rubbing my skin and trailing kisses as he goes.

“What are you doing?” I ask when he slides down my underwear—or rather his underwear. But my blood already hums in my veins, ready for him all over again after our bath.

He pushes my knees up, kissing the skin above my slit. “I’m changing the narrative. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Looking up at me through dark lashes, he runs his tongue over my lips, dipping it inside with such tender care I can’t help my sigh of pleasure.

“I think your tongue is magic,” I breathe, gripping the sheets when he sucks my clit into his mouth. He pushes two fingers inside me but doesn’t move them, holding pressure instead.

“Pleasure is pleasure,” he says, lapping at me like he’s just stumbled upon the holy grail. “Does this make you feel guilty?” He wraps one arm around my leg to hold me still, keeping one hand low on my belly while the other is still inside me.

Every time he moves I see the muscles in his shoulders and back tense and release, like waves rolling over the shore. 

“No.” Biting one of my fingers, I close my eyes and let my body take me, moving to his patient rhythm toward a familiar destination.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking sweet,” he whispers, cupping my breast and flicking his tongue against me, letting me arch my back while my stomach tenses.

“I’m going to come,” I pant, grabbing the headboard just to have something to hold onto. He doesn’t rush, keeping up the steady pace that drives me on to the point of no return, his fingers making a “come hither” motion inside me.

“Let go, baby. Come for me.” He sucks my clit into his mouth again and I fall apart, clenching around his fingers and moaning his name into the pillow. He does not release me at first, sucking every last drop of pleasure out of this moment before he finally lets me go.

I can feel his weight shifting on the mattress as he lies on his side, pulling me into arms. When I open my eyes, I find a thoughtful expression on his face.

“No one should be as good at anything as you are at that,” I whisper, drawing circles on his chest. He pulls me closer until there is no space left between us and holds my hand over his heart.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me. This is about willing surrender. It’s about trust.” His voice is earnest, and it makes him seem younger. It makes me want to confess things, even if I fear it will put an end to all this.

Dropping my eyes to his chest to find my courage, I swallow back my fear and open my mouth. Just get it over with, Lucy. “I’m not afraid that you’ll hurt me—not physically, anyway.” It is easy to trust him with my body. My heart is a different story. “I’m…I’m afraid of everything else. I’m afraid of how much I need you.” 

Now that I’ve started, I don’t know where to stop. One month in and I’m bearing my soul with little regard for the consequences. If this ruins my job and destroys my semester, so be it. All of it pales in comparison to the way I long for him.

“I think about you all the time, Cole. And every time I do I can’t help but smile.” Especially when I catch him looking at me, or see the genuine, boyish grin he tries to hide. “I’m afraid of what happens when this ends.”

He is quiet for a long time, his chest moving in and out with deep, slow breaths. Just when I am afraid he’s fallen asleep, he hugs me tighter.

“I told you that you had to trust me for this to work,” he says, his voice quiet and steady, humming in his throat. “But I couldn’t do this with you if I didn’t trust you back.”

“You trust me?” My head snaps up, surprise clear on my face as my heart races all over again. I thought he didn’t trust anyone. I thought that was the whole point of shuffling girls in and out before they could develop expectations.

“Lucy,” he scoffs, as if this is the most obvious revelation in the world and I should have guessed it myself. He struggles to find the words, a dozen different emotions passing over his face. “How can you not see...don’t you know what you mean to me?” he asks at last.

His confusion is so genuine I can’t help but laugh. How could I possibly know what the poster child for leather and denim is thinking?

“I’ve been trying to manage my expectations,” I chuckle, feeling my cheeks grow red. “I thought this was just…” Another guy using me while I let him—hell, while I beg him not to stop. Just like every other guy I’ve been with. “I thought it was just about sex.”

Really amazing, earth-shattering, gravity-defying sex, but sex nonetheless. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, touching his lips to my forehead.

“All this time I’ve felt pathetic for chasing after you, and you’ve just been waiting to cut me loose. I feel so used.” The trace of humor in his voice makes my heart swell in my chest.

“No!” I am too snug to move my arms much, but I press my hands against his chest to let him know how wrong he is. “I’ve just been waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he whispers, his heart hammering against his chest so hard I can feel it beneath my palm. Draping one of his legs over mine, he grabs the back of my head and kisses me, pouring everything he cannot say into the motion of his lips.

Desire pools low in my belly, lighting me up from the inside. Any closer and my bones would collapse, but he holds me tighter anyway, and I do not complain. Nothing is close enough while he’s making confessions and kissing me so fiercely my lips swell.

“I’m afraid too, you know,” he pants when he breaks for air, resting his forehead against mine. 

My smile stretches across my whole face. I don’t think I could stop it even if I wanted to. “Oh yeah? What could possibly scare you?” 

His chest heaves and he keeps his eyes closed, breathing deep through his nose. Whatever he is about to say has his heart racing, his skin heating at my touch. 

“I’m afraid I might be falling in love with you.”

My whole body reacts, any thought of sleep dissipating. I can hardly believe it was real, though I can see his trepidation clear as day, even in the dark. Using his hesitation, I shift out from the tangle of his legs and roll him onto his back, lying on top of him and crushing my lips to his.

His hands grip my waist so hard I can feel it in my bones as he returns the kiss, rocking his hips into me while his tongue dances against mine. We are inseparable, two halves of one whole moving in sync.

Nothing has ever made me feel so safe. Nothing has ever felt so right.