Heavy Issues Part 8

"No buts, babe. Now."

She sputtered something at his high-handed statement, looking affronted. She was so frigging s.e.xy with her hair wild over herself, her face flushed, and her pants at her feet.

He knew he should be gentle, coax and ease her into the intimacy, joke with her until she relaxed, but he was too wound up to pull the smooth routine with her. Besides, he wasn't the concession-offering type by far, especially where women and s.e.x were concerned. She'd better learn that fast.

He kissed her, hard but short.

"Can't wait to have you," he said as he stripped her of her pants. Wow, her underpants were also...how she'd called it? Vintage. They looked to him more like well-preserved, cute granny panties from the fifties. d.a.m.n s.e.xy too, all that stiff lace hugging her luscious curves. Pity he wasn't in the right mind to appreciate them. Another day he'd give them the attention they deserved. Not today. Today they were just pieces of clothing in his way.

Clad only in her underwear, she shrank to cover herself.

"There's too much light here," she whispered, warily eyeing first the lamp and then the big panel windows. "Too much exposure."

He narrowed his eyes at her. The dim glow from the lamp was mood lighting at best. And the big panel windows guarded their privacy perfectly. But that wasn't truly the issue, was it?

"Exposure?" He lifted her, and in two seconds flat he had her facing the full-length hallway mirror, him at her back. "No, sweetheart, this is exposure." And he switched on the mirror's powerful spotlights.

Legs shaking and eyes wild, she tried to wrench away. "Cole-"

He held her down, trapping her arms by her sides. "I don't think so, babe."

It suddenly occurred to him that that was probably what had appealed to her about the f.u.c.k on the bike. No exposure whatsoever. He snorted inwardly. h.e.l.l, she'd thought that she could offer her a.s.s to him and he'd just pull her pants down enough to f.u.c.k her? Which he would have in a heartbeat. But he would have wanted more after that. He was going to kiss and pet every inch of that body of hers, no two ways about it, and he'd do it without restrictions of any kind.

Her chin dropped to her chest, her hair falling to her face.

"I want all my senses involved while f.u.c.king you, sight included."

"I'd rather not," she answered in a barely audible voice.

"Why?" he asked, nuzzling her nape. "Don't you want to watch me?"

She choked out a shaky laugh, her face still hidden from him. "You, yeah. Me, no. Besides, you're still dressed."

"And that's how I'm going to f.u.c.k you this first time. Me fully clothed. You totally naked. Now stop hiding and look up," he commanded. "You better give in, because I'm not going anywhere."

It took a while, but she complied. Her eyes were anxious, her cheeks flushed from embarra.s.sment. Her lips swollen from his rough kisses.

He couldn't tear his gaze off her. "G.o.d, look at you. You're so f.u.c.king beautiful."

He licked and nibbled the hollow under her ear, nuzzled her neck, flicking his tongue over the pulse point at the base. When he was fairly sure she wasn't going to bolt, he let her arms go and trailed his hands over her curves, doing his d.a.m.nedest to ignore his throbbing c.o.c.k, which had swelled to monumental proportions. f.u.c.k, he was going out of his mind.

Unable to stop himself, he pulled at her hair, turning her face toward him, and took her mouth in a wet, hard caress. Totally forgetting he didn't like the intimacy of kissing a woman, he mindlessly feasted on those luscious lips until she arched against him, whimpering. Little by little, Christy began melting again, becoming the willing kitty she'd been before. She still looked a bit unsure, but the pleasure seemed to override her inhibitions. Good. He may get off on macho tripping and playing it rough, but he wanted her one hundred percent in.

"Get the Kevlar off, babe," he whispered.

"Kevlar?"

"The death-trap bra. And the panties," he said, watching her through the mirror.

With shaky fingers, she began opening the front pins. f.u.c.k, that was going to take forever.

"I'm not the most patient man around. You're going to have to start wearing something more accessible," he said as his gaze held hers, tempted to just rip the undergarment and be done with it.

She must have seen his intention in his eyes, because she hurried.

She stepped away from him and quickly s.h.i.+mmied out of her underwear, offering him a view that all but stopped his heart. Man, if she wiggled her a.s.s like that one more time, he was so going to f.u.c.k it.

The last st.i.tch of clothing fell to the floor, and she was finally naked. She tried to turn around and move away from the mirror, but he brought her back to him and plastered his chest on her back, his hungry gaze eating her up.

She averted her glance and covered her breast with her hands. So prim, so ladylike...so pointless in the big scheme of things. His d.i.c.k was now the self-appointed ruler of the known universe, and he didn't care for anything prim or ladylike. Actually, ladylike made him behave more like a marauder.

"No way," he said, removing her hands from her body and keeping them at her sides.

Jesus, she was s.e.xy. Curvy. Soft to his hardness, as she should be.

"Look up, sweetheart. You're gorgeous. Perfect."

He brushed her nipples. They were hard and puckered. He'd known she was stacked, but with keeping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in those stiff, hard cups and all, he hadn't realized how plump and soft they were. He cupped the underside of them, carefully hefting them in his hands. Glorious. He hated the hardness of silicone t.i.ts, how unnatural they felt to the touch. Not these; these were big, soft, mouthwatering, homegrown t.i.ts that he could squeeze and pet to his heart's content without fearing they'd explode on him.

"Your t.i.ts are the stuff of fantasies."

She shrugged. He wanted his lips on those beauties, but that would have to wait. While he pinched and rolled her nipples with one hand, he moved the other down to her p.u.s.s.y, pus.h.i.+ng one finger in her. She arched, the walls of her c.u.n.t pulsing around him. It was driving him insane how responsive she was, how amazingly good she felt. He gritted his teeth. At this rate he was going to need ma.s.sive dental work by the time he got laid.

"You're small." Pity he couldn't come inside her. With her dripping wet from her lube and his s.e.m.e.n, he could slide in easier, but he never f.u.c.ked without a condom-ever. Anyone who did was a brain-dead idiot, and he wasn't about to join that gang.

"I'm not," she said in a retort.

He looked at her, puzzled. She was curvy, with full b.r.e.a.s.t.s and round hips, but in no way big. Or fat, which was what she was probably implying.

"Yes, you're small," he insisted, nuzzling her throat. "Compared to me, you're just a tiny sc.r.a.p of a thing. Besides, I meant here," he said, sinking a second finger into her, her snug muscles right away clamping around him. "You see? Small and snug as a fist." She was hot and wet, swollen from her previous o.r.g.a.s.m, but she wasn't ready for him. He wanted to bury himself b.a.l.l.s-deep in her, and she had to be wetter.

Eyeing the dresser on his left, which was the perfect height for her to perch that sweet a.s.s of hers on, he backed her to it, sank to his knees in front of her, and pressed his face against her s.e.x.

"What? No, no!" she shrieked, chest heaving, her glittering eyes frantic.

Ignoring her panicked reaction, he lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder.

"Yes. Eyes on me. Watch me eat you."

She squirmed, but with her hips pinned against the dresser, she had nowhere to go. Keeping her swollen folds wide open with his thumbs, he had to stop a second to take her in. d.a.m.n, she was pretty. Soft and slick, with that little c.l.i.t tight and pulsing, and the dark pink hole of her s.e.x begging to be filled, glistening with that honey he was dying to taste. Hungrily he slid his tongue from her opening to her c.l.i.t and back down.

"You've come on my fingers. Now you'll come in my mouth."

He ran his mouth over her folds, sucking them, gently dragging his teeth over her c.l.i.t and thoroughly licking and lapping her slit. Her taste was intoxicating. Sweet, but darker, a hint of spices in it. He loved it.

As he ate her, Christy's agitated words slowly entered his fogged brain. She was trying to push him away. "Cole, stop this. I don't...I don't like it."

He lifted his head, perplexed. "What do you mean you don't like it? You don't like oral s.e.x?" Because she was soaking wet. Had he read her body signals wrong?

She shook her head, her face distraught. "No, it's not that. I do like oral s.e.x. I just...I don't like it like this," she said, trying in vain to close her legs. She eyed the spotlights and then the mirror, which reflected an image of the both of them bathed in bright lights, her buck naked, her legs spread, her s.e.x puffy, him totally dressed, with his lips glistening from her juices. "So...so..."

Then it dawned on him. "Ah. So exposed, you mean. Right?"

She gulped and licked her lips. "Yeah." Her voice was barely there.

"Tough s.h.i.+t," he told her harshly. "Deal with it."

He wouldn't apologize for doing what worked for her. She had to be exposed and out of her comfort zone to come the way he needed her to come. She better get used to the fact that s.e.x with him would never be polite or gentlemanly. It would be wet, sweaty, and nasty, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He restrained her wrists with his hands, and holding her thighs open with his forearms, he intensified his onslaught. She tried to fight him, but he didn't budge or ease up. Stiffening his tongue, he entered her and f.u.c.ked her with it, his nose pressing against her c.l.i.t. Suddenly her whole body tensed, and she choked out a broken sob as she began coming in his mouth, her muscles spasming wildly with an intensity that startled him.

With the blood madly pounding in his shaft, his muscles straining, he rose, suited up in record time, and, wrapping his arm around her waist, pressed her face-first against the mirror.

"Brace yourself on the mirror, sweetheart," he ordered and pressed the head of his c.o.c.k against her, using the last of her contractions to enter her, which sent her into a second, sharper o.r.g.a.s.m that sucked him deeper into her sweet depths and literally blew his head off. Jesus f.u.c.king Christ, maybe she was right, maybe he should tone down this s.h.i.+t before she gave him a ma.s.sive coronary. Nah, screw it. Great way to go.

He watched, mesmerized, at the s.e.x G.o.ddess in the mirror, eyes glazed, body shuddering in release. He wanted to stay still, ride it out before hammering into her, but he was too far gone. With a hard growl, he slammed into her from behind, parting her convulsing flesh even farther, thrusting deep and hard while he gripped her hips. G.o.d, it was like pus.h.i.+ng through a velvet fist.

He understood that this level of raw, pounding enthusiasm probably wasn't the greatest idea for their first time, but he was unable to stop himself, and before even being fully seated in her, he exploded in her. He came and came, squeezed to death by the hottest, tightest p.u.s.s.y he'd ever been in.

Christy woke up alone. She didn't need visual confirmation of that. She could feel it in her bones. Cole's force field was impossible to miss. Legs wobbly, she stood up and tried to walk. This was what "well loved" meant. Or rather "well f.u.c.ked." She was going to be sore for a month at least.

She wrapped a blanket around herself and went in search of him, a bit apprehensive she'd fallen sleep in his bed. She shouldn't have, but she'd been so exhausted. Cole didn't seem to know the meaning of cuddling and resting between bouts of s.e.x. With him it was a long, seamless string of bed acrobatics.

She found him sitting on the living room couch, typing at a laptop on the table, the glow of the screen illuminating his stark face, his body a huge expanse of hard, taut muscle with thick, long veins running along his limbs.

He turned to her, and his eyes flared, dark and intent.

Suddenly feeling nervous and self-conscious, as if she'd bitten off more than she could chew and was now about to find out how it felt to choke on it, she cleared her throat and wrapped the blanket tighter. "Hi."

He didn't answer, just stared at her, immobile, his face unreadable.

"Can't sleep?" she asked, feeling like an a.s.s. He probably wanted her out of there. She'd probably run him out of his bed.

Still no answer.

She signaled toward the front door. "Hmm, do you want me to go?"

He leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Does it look like that to you, sweetheart?"

She looked into his lap, and her eyes opened wide. He had a ma.s.sive erection.

All the men she knew needed ten hours' sleep and a full breakfast the next day before even attempting to get frisky again, especially after coming so many times. h.e.l.l, many of them would have had to be rushed to the ER to be treated for dehydration, for Christ's sake.

"Hmm...Cole?" She stared at his groin. "Are you on v.i.a.g.r.a or something? Because those pills are dangerous. I know of someone who lost sight temporarily in his right eye from a v.i.a.g.r.a overdose. Something to do with the rise in blood pressure that has your eyes popping out-literally."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Thanks for the visual, sweetheart, but no, I'm not on v.i.a.g.r.a. This is my normal state since you moved here."

"If you don't want me to leave already, why are you sitting here instead of...?" Surely he could have come to get her from the bed.

He shrugged. "I figured you'd be sore, and I didn't want to overdo it. I can't seem to manage to be around you without wanting to f.u.c.k you."

"I'm not sore...much."

He wiggled a finger at her. "Come here." My, that obey-me-or-else tone again.

Holding the blanket carefully, she went to him. For a second she considered the benefit of going on her knees in front of him and taking him into her mouth, but she chickened out.

He lowered her to his lap, arranging her legs to straddle him, and studied her in silence, his intense gaze making her so uncomfortable she had to break eye contact. She looked around. Dark wood. Stainless steel. High ceilings, big windows. The place was masculine, functional. It suited him perfectly. "You have a beautiful home, Cole."

He still said nothing.

Her gaze traveled over him. He was just breathtaking. She reached toward him and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. He'd had a buzz cut when she'd first come to Alden, but in the last months it'd grown a bit, giving him a roguish look that was completely at odds with his otherwise severe demeanor. Encouraged by his stillness, she brushed her fingers over his lips, then his s.e.xy stubble, which was responsible for those whisker burns on her inner thighs and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and then moved down to his chest, marveling at how warm and hard he was, how his bulging muscles flexed and tightened under her touch.

She hadn't had many opportunities to touch him during the night because he'd made sure her hands were either holding on for dear life or in his grip. Cole hadn't been kidding when he'd said he was into control. He'd taken her in many positions, but they all had one thing in common: he was in charge, her movements were restricted, and he kept her at arm's length, holding her down with his arms or his weight, never letting her invade his s.p.a.ce.

She hadn't been allowed to explore him, and she wanted to.

"What are those?" she asked, gesturing at some old scars he had on his left shoulder and pecs.

"Shrapnel." As she made contact with the dotted, scarred tissue, he grabbed her hand and stilled her. Time was up. He was back in charge.

She wanted to ask about the scars, but his closed expression wasn't too inviting.

Christy glanced toward the computer. "Are you working?"

"I have several business meetings on Monday out of state, and I leave later today. I was just checking the arrangements."

Oops, there went reality, putting a lid on her s.e.x life now that she had one.

"Ah...I see," she mumbled, trying to cover her disappointment.

"Plenty to do today and tomorrow, but I'll be back by Tuesday."

"If you're busy, I can..." she said, making the gesture to get off him.

"Forget that." He reached over her and closed the laptop. "Get this blanket off you."

She nibbled at her lower lip, uncertain. Dawn was approaching, and the sky was already turning gray. Plus the drapes were open. After the lightfest in the hallway, it seemed kind of silly, but still. Men were more agreeable and ready to overlook flaws while in the midst of a s.e.xual frenzy and not the morning after.

He scowled. "I've already seen all of you. Get the blanket off, or I will."

His tone didn't leave room for negotiating, and d.a.m.n if his domineering manner didn't make her wet.

She unraveled herself slowly, embarra.s.sed and a bit hesitant, the blanket bunching at her thighs. He reached for her, cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her lips, then trailed his hands down over her throat, her collarbone, then her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.