Billion Dollar Enemy 33
He sits up between my legs and spreads them wide, eyes not leaving mine. He grips himself and slowly runs the throbbing head along my center. Every time it touches the top of my slit, I mewl. He’s giving me just enough to keep me on the edge.
“Quit teasing.”
“No,” he says. “This is payback.”
“For leaving me that note instead of your number.”
I rise up on my elbows and slide my hands up my sides, cupping my breasts. His gaze shifts to my nipples as I roll them between my fingertips. “Two can play that game,” I say. It’s the kind of exhibitionist sex I’ve never had before-lights on, no shyness. There’s no space for awkwardness with him around.
Still watching me, he reaches down and circles my clit with sure, practiced fingers. Fire races through me like an ember to a flame and I collapse against the bed with a moan. It’s more than I can bear, and it seems like it’s more than he can, too. We lose the game at the same time.
Strong hands grip my hips and pull me tighter. The pressure at my entrance increases, delicious, not enough, I want-
“Condom,” I breathe. “We need one.”
His exhale is shaky. “Right. In your bedside drawer?”
“I don’t have any.”
“For fuck’s sake, Holland. Who wouldn’t-”
I push against him. “Stop wasting time. Do you have one?”
“I might. Let me check.” He disappears and I’m left on the bed, physically aching from the lack of him. When he returns, it’s with determined strides.
I lay back and watch him, his v-shaped physique, the wide shoulders and trim waist. He’s cut like a swimmer. It’s unthinkable that I’m not nervous or self-conscious around him, but here I am, comfortable and so turned on it’s painful.
He tears off the foil and rolls the condom on with one practiced move. “Had one in my wallet,” he growls. “Thank God.” He kisses me so hard I think I might bruise, both of us gripping each other eagerly. He grabs my thighs and pulls me close. I reach down and guide him.
And then he’s inside me.
“Shit,” he growls. “You feel so good.”
I want to echo the compliment-he’s stretching me out in the most delicious way-but then he starts to move and speech eludes me completely.
Cole grasps my ankles and puts them on his shoulders. His fingers dig into my thighs, using me as leverage to push himself deeper.
“Touch yourself,” he orders. “I want to feel you come around me.”
And that’s why I haven’t been able to forget the night at the hotel room. He’d demanded that I show him where I wanted to be touched, and he’d wanted to see it, to learn. To touch me that way himself.
I reach down and circle my clit in the way that always brings me to the edge. It’s easy-I’m already close-and Cole looks down, eyes transfixed.
It empowers me. I circle again, and again, and he’s groaning now. “Fuck. I’m close.”
He bends me over until I’m nearly double, and I’m gasping, I can’t breathe, he’s so deep. My hand is still working. I’m teetering on the edge, dangerously close to losing control. The abyss is beckoning.
And then he rolls his hips while inside me and I’m lost, to pleasure, to him. To us.
Somewhere through the climatic fog I hear Cole groan loudly. He jerks into me, hands gripping my thighs.
Seconds pass. Minutes.
My legs are lowered gently to the bed as he stands, tying off the condom. I admire his backside as he heads to the bathroom. It’s all I have the energy for. My limbs feel loose and heavy. Moving is beyond me at the moment, possibly for all future.
He laughs at me when he returns. “Are you all right?”
“Much better than all right.”
“Glad to hear it.” He sits down on the bed, propping up a few pillows. Making himself comfortable. It reminds me of when I was sick and woke up to him reading on the other side of my bed.
A bit flustered, I turn over on my stomach. His gaze dips down to caress my body, and I revel in it, feeling powerfully feminine. He might only have seven percent body fat, but he certainly doesn’t mind mine.
“So,” I say.
“So,” he echoes. “Let me guess. You’re going to say that this was a one-time thing?”
I try a smug smile of my own. “No. I was going to discuss ground rules.”
“Rules? You really know how to talk dirty, Holland.”
“Hah.” But… interesting. “Would you want me to?”
One of his eyebrows rises. Naked, with his just-fucked hair, he looks too good to be true. Which he kind of is.
“Absolutely.” He glances over at my stack of books. “I’ve never slept with a writer before. Will you use similes? Metaphors?”
“Tons,” I tell him. “A lot of alliteration.”
“You’re turning me on already.”
I reach for my pillow and slide my arms underneath it. “Ground rules. No one knows we’re sleeping together.”
“Who would I tell?”
“Especially not Karli, or anyone in your business.”
He looks at me like that’s obvious. “I don’t gossip.”
“Didn’t imagine you did, but it needed to be said. Too much is at stake,” I say. Like my business. My reputation. My heart, my head warns, but I wave it away. Just because I’ve never had a friends-with-benefits situation before doesn’t mean I can’t.
Cole leans over, running a hand along my back. I close my eyes at the pleasure of the simple touch. “What we do in bed won’t interfere with anything outside of it. I can keep the two separate if you can.”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.
“Good,” I murmur. “Because outside of bed, I still hate you.”
His laugh is rough. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“So we’re agreed. This is just sex.”