Turning to face him more fully, I raise an eyebrow. “You looked me up?”
“I may have,” he says.
“I’ll remind myself to Google you when I get home.”
Cole adds a third finger and I groan, feeling suddenly full and stretched. “My point was simply this: You liked playing a slave to a king. Your body responds when I talk about tying you down. Many people, women especially, have fantasies like that. Not because they want to be a slave or tied up, but because it means you’ll be able to let go. You won’t have to make the decisions for a little while and someone else will take care of you.”
His words strike home like they’re resounding in my gut and in my skull. It’s true. When we were playing, I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to worry, and it was perfect. How strange. And as if he’s reading my thoughts, Cole presses a kiss just below my ear. “It’s not weird.”
“It is. A little.”
“Even if it is,” he says, flexing his fingers against my G-spot, “I promise that once I show you how good it can be that you won’t care.”
“So you’re into that? Tying people up?”
He grins, stopping his teasing and starting to thrust into me in earnest. All the thoughts I was trying to process fly right out of my head with the way he’s rocking into me, hitting exactly where I need him. “I’m into many things. Variety is the spice of life, you know.”
“I think I did know that,” I say, my fingers digging into his shoulder and the couch as he continues fucking me with his hand. “What’s your favorite color?”
A groan escapes me, and I know that he’s going to make me come right here on this couch, but I need to know something about him. Anything. It takes me a second to realize that I said it out loud. “Blue,” he says, “but not any blue. Blue so dark it’s almost black, like the color of the night sky in summer.”
He curls his fingers into my G-spot, and I break open. It’s a quiet, shaking orgasm that ripples through me, and I have to hold onto him. I’m holding my breath, and he keeps pushing me, drawing out those quaking waves of pleasure as I shake on his lap. Then it’s gone, and I heave in a breath, sagging against him. Cole kisses me, and I can feel his erection growing beneath my ass. “I love watching you come.”
He kisses me again, scooping his arm under my legs and standing. His lips cover my squeak in surprise, but I push at him. “Put me down.”
He doesn’t. “We’re going to the Victorian room. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you walk there by yourself?” Then, softer, “The same rules apply. Safe sex and safe word any time you want.”
“Let me take care of you tonight.”
I’m worried that he’s going to stumble and fall, drop me, but even as we climb the stairs he’s perfectly steady. I lean my head on his shoulder. “What does that mean?”
He chuckles, and the deep vibrations in his chest are soothing. “Like I said before, we don’t play any games here. I mean what I say. I want to take care of you. That means you don’t have to make any more decisions tonight. All you have to do is say yes and feel. And come,” he adds. “A lot.”
I feel the tension drain out of my body, and I relax into his hold. “Okay.”
My heart is pounding so fast and so loudly that I'm surprised that Cole can’t hear it. Everything is mixing together—anticipation and anxiety and lust.
It’s exactly like he said it would be. He carried me all the way to the Victorian room, putting me down only once we’d crossed the threshold. And then he undressed me. Slowly, he kissed every swath of skin he uncovered, and when he was on his knees in front of me, having removed the last of my clothing, he used his lips then, too.
I think I’m a little bit in love with his lips. And his wicked, sinful tongue. But he won’t let me come again. Instead he brings me to the edge, letting me hang there. My cursing in frustration only makes him laugh, and reminds me that the decisions are his, and that he promised it would be worth it. It damn well better be.