“Oh, god, isn’t that enough?”
He chuckled. “Frustrated, baby?”
“You know I am.”
“Then stop teasing, and tell me.”
I realized what he wanted me to say. What he’d told me he wanted to do. And, yes, what I wanted as well. “I want you to spank me.”
“Why?”
“Cole . . .” I shifted, feeling open and exposed, and not just because I was naked with his hand between my legs.
I waited for him to say something else, but he stayed silent, and I knew that this was part of my punishment, too—exposing myself to Cole. Not my body, but my whole self. My desires. My everything.
“I liked the way it felt,” I admitted, my voice so soft I knew he was having to work to hear it. “There was pain, but it was so sharp and so pure—and I was already so turned on that it was like—like it was bigger than pain. Like it was electricity, and it was sparking through me, making the whole experience bigger and fuller. I don’t know,” I finished lamely. “I just know I liked it. And,” I added before he could ask, “I want more. I want harder, Cole. I want to go farther. I want to go there with you.”
I waited for his reply. For him to tell me that I’d said what he wanted. Or, god help me, for him to demand I reveal even more of myself to him.
But Cole was done with words. Instead, his palm lightly stroked my rear. I sighed, relishing the pleasure of his touch. But I tensed, too, because I was certain that I knew what was coming.
He didn’t disappoint, and soon his hand landed on my rear with a hard smack. As before, I felt the sting, and gasped in surprise and pain. But then his hand smoothed out the rough edges and those sweet sparks buzzed through me. And then he did it again and again, alternating his blows to get both of my ass cheeks, finding a rhythm that soon had me almost floating and gasping—and my sex throbbing in demanding, unfulfilled longing.
“Now,” Cole said, when the sparks had so consumed me that I felt like I was made of nothing more than electricity. He took my hips and tugged me toward him so that he was standing at the foot of the bed, the tip of his cock pressed against me. “I’m clean,” he said. “I’ve been tested. But do you want me to use a condom?”
“No. No, I want to feel you.” I was on the pill, so I wasn’t worried about pregnancy, and I knew I was clean, too. But I appreciated his control, especially considering I hadn’t even thought about protection, I’d been so caught up in the haze of desire.
“Good,” he said. “You’re so wet, baby.” And then, as if to prove it, he thrust inside me. Slowly at first, and then, when he was buried to the hilt, he drew out and then slammed hard into me, just the way I’d asked.
I gasped, losing myself to the sensation of him filling me. Of his hands on my hips guiding me. Of the way his body exploded against mine, making my undoubtedly red ass fire even more with each thrust.
“Touch yourself,” he said, his voice tight with the effort of holding back what was surely a rising storm. “Touch yourself and come with me.”
I shifted my weight to one elbow so I could comply, then slipped my hand between my legs and teased myself with small circles, letting the sensation build, knowing that he was claiming me totally and completely—and losing myself to the pleasure of that sweet and decadent reality.
He exploded then, his fingers digging hard enough into my hips to bruise—and that was just enough to send me over, too. He waited for the shudders to die down, both his and mine, then pulled out and slid onto the bed, pulling me into his arms as we both lay there and looked into each other’s eyes, our sated bodies touching and his fingers stroking idly over my naked and sensitive flesh.
“You’re amazing,” he said.
“You make me feel amazing.”
His lips brushed my forehead, and before my sleep-heavy eyes finally closed, I saw satisfaction in his warm, dark eyes.
I laid on my back on the warm sand, feeling the surf rush up to my toes, then recede, cooling my overheated flesh.
My eyes were closed, and Cole was beside me, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on my skin, teasing my breasts, sliding down to my sex.
One finger slipped inside me, and I drew in air as heat from the sun and this man consumed me.
A shadow fell over me as he shifted, momentarily blocking the sun. Then he gently spread my legs apart, his palms stroking upward, the movement slow and teasing.
And then I felt the smallest flick of his tongue over my sex, but enough to make me arch up, wanting more. Needing more.
Dear god, he didn’t disappoint.
His mouth closed over me. His tongue teasing and tasting. Laving me, playing me, bringing me closer and closer and closer until—
It wasn’t him—oh, Christ, it wasn’t him.
Not Cole but Roger. Sixteen years old, with dark hair and droopy eyes and soft fingers that played with my sex, groping and exploring, as I lay there, frozen and scared and turned on, with all the sensations building and building inside me, but I had to hold them back. Had to keep quiet and still. Had to keep the secret because—
Because—
Because if I didn’t, then—
I came awake with a gasp, but kept my eyes closed.
I was on my back, my legs spread, and I could feel the warm heat of Cole’s tongue on my clit, teasing and playing. I wanted to pull him up, to cry out for him to stop.
I wanted to do that, but I didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want him to see the secret on my face.
And oh, dear god, as he played and teased my clit with his tongue, I couldn’t deny that I didn’t want to stop him because it felt too damn good.