Tie Me Down

Cole groaned, his fists clenching in her hair. “Do it,” he urged, holding her head steady against him.

“Do what?” she teased, flicking her tongue over him again and again. Teasing him, taunting him, giving him only a little of what he wanted. What he needed.

“Genevieve!” His voice was hot, harsh, commanding. The look he shot her just a little bit wild as he thrust against her mouth.

“Is this what you want?” she asked, slipping just the tip of him into her mouth. Sucking gently but never giving him the pressure that he craved.

“Fuck.” The fingers in her hair tightened. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

“Payback’s a bitch.” She laughed low in her throat and then shifted, taking all of him into her mouth.

His c**k throbbed as she pulled him deep, letting her tongue run up and down the length of him while she moved her hands until her nails dug into his thighs. Not hard, but just enough to let him know that she meant business.

Then she eased back until only his deep purple head was in her mouth. Sucking him gently, she let her tongue swirl in circles over the small bundles of nerves on the bottom of his tip.

He gasped, clutched at her hair, tried to get her to take more of him. But she refused to give in, refused to be swayed by the wordless pleas of his body. Instead, she lifted a hand and began working his c**k with both her hand and her mouth.

“Genevieve.” His voice was choked, his h*ps restless as he thrust against her. “Please—”

The tortured sound of his voice sent her over the edge and she couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t withhold what he so badly wanted when she wanted it too.

Shifting her hands, she cupped his ass to hold him in place. And then slowly, so slowly that she caught every shudder of his strong, virile body, she took all of him.

He was huge, hot, hard—and she loved it. Loved the feel of his body shaking against hers, loved the sharp pain of his hands tugging in her hair. Loved the feel of his c**k sliding in and out of her mouth, up and down her throat.

She relaxed her throat, let it milk him as her tongue swirled around him. He tasted like the sea—sweet and salty and storm-tossed—and she couldn’t get enough of him. Arousal thrummed through her, making her hot and wet and desperate for the feel of him between her thighs.

But she wasn’t ready to let him go, wasn’t ready to relinquish the pleasure that came from driving him as crazy as he’d driven her. Moving again, she brought one hand behind his balls and stroked the sweet spot there. He stiffened, gasped, frantically called her name as he tried to pull out.

She only sucked him deeper, savoring the tangy drop of pr**um he couldn’t hold back. He was on the brink, about to lose control, and she couldn’t wait to drive him over. To watch his face as orgasm took him. To feel his body as ecstasy consumed him.

Cole watched her with eyes he could barely keep open, shocked at the intensity of the pleasure Genevieve was giving him. He’d had bl*w j*bs many, many times before, but never had a woman driven him this insane. Never had he lost control of his body, his will. His very soul.

Part of him wanted to stop her, to pull Genevieve up his body and thrust into her until she came, screaming his name. But he had made mistakes with her already, had taken too much power from her, too fast. Had given her pleasure but taken any and all control from her.

And in doing so, he had hurt her—something he’d never intended to do. If stringing him out—hurtling him past simple lust and into a primal need to mate—gave her what she needed, then he would let her have it.

For now.

The need to come was urgent, the desire to empty himself into her mouth so intense that it shook him to his very core. But at the same time, he didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay here, in this moment, connected to this beautiful woman forever.

He thrust against her, watched as he slid in and out of her pale pink lips. Did it again and nearly came when she moaned deep in her throat.

“Genevieve, sweetheart,” he said, shocked at the gravel in his normally smooth voice. “Stop. I want to be inside you when I come.”

Genevieve merely took him deeper, let her tongue run up and down his c**k in a rhythm that had his eyes crossing and his balls aching for relief. He was on the brink, orgasm threatening with every strangled breath he took. Just when he was ready to give it up, to let her have her way, she pulled away.

He nearly howled in disappointment, in relief, in desperation. “Fuck,” he gasped. “I have—”

He didn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t finish it as agony ripped through him. His legs trembled, and his heart beat so fast he was sure it would burst.

But Genevieve seemed oblivious to his plight. Pulling back even farther, she licked her lips. Glanced up at him through her lashes. Then ran her tongue up and down his length in whisper-soft strokes.

He jerked, every muscle in his body tightening as he finally lost all control of his body. Genevieve was taking him, taking everything he could give. And judging from the look on her face, loving every second of it.

“Let me f**k you. Let me come inside you. I want—” He was babbling, incoherent, aware of nothing but the pleasure and pain ripping through him as he fought for control.

Then Genevieve leaned back. Ran her tongue over her sweet, soft lips. Touched the pr**um leaking from him with one slender finger. “I want you to come,” she whispered, slipping the finger in her mouth and sucking it clean before bringing her lips to him once again.

She ran her tongue over his balls, stroked the spot at the back of his balls that she’d found earlier and he’d never known existed. Ordered in a voice breathless with desire, “Come for me, Cole. Come now!”

And swallowed him whole.

It was too much—her mouth on his cock, her hand on his balls, her words in his head. He tried to pull away, to stop the cl**ax flowing through him before he flooded her.

But Genevieve refused to let him go. She slid one arm around his h*ps and jerked him tightly against her. Her tongue stroked the tender underside of his c**k even as she sucked until sanity was a distant memory. She hummed low in her throat, and the ensuing vibrations sent him off the edge of the very high, very jagged cliff he’d been balanced so precariously upon.

With a groan that was almost a shout, he gave himself up to the most incredible orgasm of his life and emptied himself inside of her in long, pulsing jets.

When it was over, when he could think again, he sank gracelessly onto the bed and pulled Genevieve down beside him. He was hot, sweaty. His knees were weak and he was shaking so badly he could barely hold on to her.

He looked down and saw her watching him with such tenderness, he was overwhelmed with emotion. Lying there, looking at him, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were glistening; her cheeks flushed. And her eyes were a bright, shining electric blue—so bright he felt sure she could see all the way to his soul.

The thought should have worried him, should have made him uncomfortable at the very least, considering what he was hiding. Instead, it relaxed him as nothing had in seven long years.

Reaching out, he stroked her tousled curls away from her forehead. Laughed as they wound their way around his fingers. Breathed deeply and inhaled the honeysuckle scent of her into his lungs.

How had he gotten here, to this precise moment? Held tenderly in the arms of this strong, sexy woman?

He didn’t know, couldn’t fathom how things could have gone so wrong. Or so right. Unsure of what he was doing for the first time in a very long time, he held on tightly to Genevieve. And wondered where on earth they could go from here.

Chapter Eight

Shrugging into her robe, Genevieve stumbled to the kitchen in a stupor, drawn there by the tantalizing aroma of ready-made coffee. Her brain was foggy, her body sore, her libido temporarily sated.

Thank God. How many times had she come last night anyway? Far, far too many to count. It was a miracle Cole hadn’t killed her.

Maybe she should have been embarrassed after her meltdown, but Cole had held her so tenderly through it that she didn’t regret letting him see her vulnerabilities. And what had happened afterward, when he’d let her take him—in her mouth and in her body—had been worth any of the uncertainties that had come before.

“There you are. I was about to wake you.” He skirted the table, handed her a cup of coffee. “What time do you have to be at work?”

“It’s my day off.” She lifted the cup to her nose, breathed in the life-giving aroma before taking a big sip. It was so delicious she didn’t even care that she’d have second-degree burns on her tongue. “You make a hell of a cup of coffee, you know that?”

He snorted. “Don’t take offense if I don’t hold your opinion in the highest regard. You’ve been drinking cop coffee for so long, I’d be amazed if you had any taste buds left.”

“I’ve got enough.”

“Sure you do.” He nodded to the bag on the counter. “I got breakfast, too.”

“Well, aren’t you just all domestic this morning.” She took another sip of coffee, relished the burn as it slid down her sleep-scratchy throat.

“Good sex will do that to a guy.”

She lifted an eyebrow, looked him up and down. “Good sex?”

He grinned. “Fabulous sex. Amazing sex. Astounding sex.”

“Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Cole grabbed the butter and strawberry jam from the fridge and then settled himself at the kitchen table. In her chair. Which she wasn’t nearly as annoyed about as she should have been, but then again, mind-blowing sex could do that to a girl, she thought with a grin.

She watched as he pulled two huge croissants out of the bag, felt her knees turn trembly at the sight. It was really hard to play it cool with a guy who knew all your weaknesses before you even told him, knew them and took care to deliver them to you one after the other.

“How’d you know croissants were my favorite?” she demanded.

He shot her a wicked grin, then licked strawberry jam off his thumb. “Because they’re my favorite too.”

“I bet. You know,” she said, studying him closely over her half-empty cup. “You’re awfully domesticated for a big, bad Hollywood type.”

His only response was an eye roll, but she’d seen him stiffen. That telltale discomfort had her pushing harder than she might have otherwise. “So did some woman train you to be so thoughtful? A wife? Girlfriend?”

“My mother.” His voice was rock steady, but she would have had to be blind to miss the way his hand shook. “I used to have to take care of my half sister—feed her, keep her safe and happy, that kind of thing.”

“You must be close to your family.”

His eyes turned unreadable in an instant, his jaw clenching so hard she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d broken a tooth. “Not so much anymore.”

The tone of his voice made it obvious the subject was closed, and part of her resented his need for privacy. He’d stripped her bare last night, had ripped away every protection she had, yet he balked at answering a few basic questions about his life. It pissed her off, had her wanting to push back just to see if she had the power to make him crack.

But before she could decide from which direction she should push, Cole reached a hand out to her and she took it without knowing why. She should have ignored it, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. For just a moment he’d looked vulnerable, his pain so real that it took her breath away.

She wanted to ask him about the pictures, to demand an explanation for what she’d seen. But she wasn’t ready to go down that road yet. Once she did, she knew the intimacy between them would disappear like it had never been and she wanted—needed—just a few more minutes of it before all hell broke loose. It had been so long since she’d felt this close to another person that she couldn’t bring herself to ruin it. Not yet.