CHAPTER EIGHT
Lori
He really does own me tonight.
That’s the thought I have as I lie across his lap, his hand coming down on my lower back. He owns me when I didn’t believe it to be possible, but it’s one night. It is the escape he’s promised. The freedom to not have to hold the world up on my shoulders, to not think.
Just this night.
Just this night with him.
The room is silent, and I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, the pulse of heat, adrenaline and arousal, almost too much to tolerate. Cole’s fingers flex on my back and I expect his next destination to be my backside, but it is not. He caresses a path up my spine, goosebumps lifting in the wake of this gentle touch, and then his palm flattens firmly between my shoulder blades. “Relax,” he orders softly. “I’ll tell you when.”
“Promise?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, his voice as firm as the hand between my shoulders. “I promise. Relax. Lie all the way down.”
Only then do I realize that I’m on my hands and knees, as if I’m about to crawl away at any moment. I inhale and exhale as I ease to my elbows. “Good,” he says softly, his approval oddly arousing, when I don’t seek approval from men. But I never thought I’d seek a spanking either, and this wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. He asked. I said yes.
He shifts his body, reaching for something, I think, and right when I’m going to twist around to figure out what, music begins to play, classical music. I don’t know classical music, which makes me unable to identify the song, but my mind tries to place it as a match to Cole in some way, but I cannot. All I know is that like the man, it’s a match to me right now. The piano notes lift in the air just enough to soften my heartbeat, and I have no idea why, but this helps. I feel myself ease into the cushion, into him, into Cole, whose name I didn’t want to know. His hand moves, and I’m instantly on alert, on edge, but not afraid. I really expect to be afraid, but there is just something about the way this man has handled this, the way he is, that doesn’t stir this type of feeling in me.
He caresses a path down my back again, fingers trailing my spine and then he’s cupping one of my cheeks, stroking the other. My fingers curl into my palms, my nipples aching with inattention. My backside begins to warm, and Cole’s palms caresses and caresses some more before he slides fingers along the seam of my body into the wet heat of my sex.
I suck in air as the sensation of his touch spirals through my body, and when he begins tracing my clit with one hand, one finger, he also begins a slow pat over the top of my sex with the others. It’s nothing anyone has ever done to me before, but it’s good. It’s really good, each pat rocking me with spikes of pleasure. I am wet, I am aroused, I am so on edge, so ready to come, that I’ve forgotten everything but wanting more, needing more. I arch into the touch, and I’m shocked when Cole’s hand flattens on my backside, his finger leaving my clit. When he just stops and does nothing. Seconds tick by and I gasp out, “Cole,” in desperation.
As if that is what he’s waited for, he replies with, “Three counts, remember? Now, Lori, are you ready?”
“No.” My breath blasts from my lungs. “Yes. I mean, yes.”
“Now,” he says again, and this time now means now. His hand comes down on my backside, and it’s as he promised. A sting I feel, arching my back with the impact, and already his palm returns.
“Two,” I breathe out and no sooner do I say that word then I feel the last burn of his palm. Three. My sex clenches and I arch forward, but a moment later, Cole is pulling me up, and I’m straddling his lap, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes. Yes, I’m—” His mouth closes down on mine and the minute his tongue licks into my mouth, I moan and sink into the kiss. I didn’t want to need anything tonight, but I need this kiss. I need him. I need—
He lifts me, and I shift with him, wanting what he seeks, wanting him inside me. Cole balances my weight, lifting me, and oh God, yes, he presses inside me, stretching me. Pleasing me. He pulls me down onto his erection, even as he thrusts up and hard. I grip his shoulders, and when our eyes meet, there is a pulse between us that radiates through my body. He doesn’t feel like a stranger. He doesn’t feel like he was supposed to feel and yet he feels perfect.
He moves, and I move, and we begin to thrust and pump, and his hands cup my breasts, lips on my lips, on my neck. On my nipple, tugging it while my body rocks against that tug. I can’t get enough of him, or move fast enough, or deep enough. He folds me into his body, strong arms holding me, and he kisses me. We continue to rock and rock some more, and more, and then I’m there—so very there—falling into him and the pleasure. Tumbling over the edge, until my body stiffens, my sex clenching around his thick erection.
I bury my face in his neck and he drives into me. A low guttural groan slides from his lips and I quake with release, shuddering all over to the point that I can’t breathe. I lose time. I lose the ability to freely think or move. There is just this man, and intense pleasure. This man that holds me through every last spasm, and doesn’t let go, not even when I collapse into him, against him. I feel him sink deeper into the cushions with me, the two of us easing into the aftermath of what just happened together.
That’s when I start to tremble again, for an entirely new reason I don’t understand; a wave of emotion overwhelming me. It’s not regret. It’s not fear. It’s something indescribable. I try to pull away from Cole, but he tightens his hold on me.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Cole murmurs. “It’s the endorphins you’re feeling from the spanking. It’ll pass.” He eases me back and rubs my arms. “It’ll pass.”
“Soon, I hope,” I whisper, gripping his arms.
“It will,” he promises. “Just breathe through it. It happens after the high, especially when it’s new to you. Take another deep breath.”
Inhaling and exhaling, my lashes lower with the trickle of air from my lips. Cole folds me against him again and before I know his intent, he stands up, taking me with him, and I quickly grab his neck, forced to hold on until we’re in the bathroom, and he’s setting me down on the sink. “Hang tight, sweetheart,” he says, and walks toward the toilet, tosses the condom, pulls on a pair of sweats, and then grabs the hotel robe from a hook and wraps it around me, holding onto the lapels. “Better now?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, realizing now that I’m no longer shaking. “Yes. It’s passing. I’m better.”
“Good.”
He gives me an inquiring look, his blue eyes probing but gentle. “Did you like it?”
This is where I should feel awkward about the question, about being spanked by this man, but somehow, I just—don’t. “Yes. I did. I’m surprised that I did.”
“I’m not,” he says, “or I wouldn’t have suggested it.”
“Why aren’t you surprised?”
“Because the danger of never letting go is you lose yourself. When you lose yourself, you lose what you’re after, why you’re doing what you’re doing. Been there, done that.”
I want to ask more. I want to understand. I want to know why he saw this in me, but I’m treading on tomorrow territory and he doesn’t give me a chance anyway. His hands come down on my waist and he sets me on the floor in front of him, tying the belt around the robe for me. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s order room service.”
I want to say yes. Why does this man make me want to say yes to everything?
“This is where I’m supposed to leave.”
“Says who?” he asks.
“Me. I said—”
“One night,” he says, “not two hours. Which means our one night is not over. I leave tomorrow morning. What do you have to lose by staying?”
What do I have to lose?
Myself, I think.
My career.
My independence.
“We had one condom,” I point out.
“And as you can tell, I can be creative.” His lips curve. “When I’m well fed. Stay, Lori. I want you to stay.” His voice is low, rough, compelling. “Forget what you planned to do. Do what we both want you to do. Stay with me.”
I should say no, but I don’t. “Yes,” I say, because nothing has changed. He might kiss like trouble, but this is one night and trouble can’t touch me tomorrow.