"You're close," he observes, voice still maddeningly controlled. "I can feel you squeezing my cock. But you don't come until I say you can."
"Please—"
"No." He changes angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside me, and I nearly sob with the intensity. "You disobeyed my orders tonight. This is the consequence. You come when I decide you've earned it."
He keeps that brutal pace, driving into me relentlessly, pushing me right to the edge and holding me there. My thighs shake, breath coming in gasps, body wound so tight I'm afraid I'll shatter.
"Beg me," he demands, voice rough now, control finally fraying at the edges.
"Please, Cole. Please let me come. I need?—"
"What do you need?"
"You. This. Please."
His hand releases my hair and slides around to find my clit, circling with firm pressure. "Come for me. Now."
The orgasm rips through me, violent and overwhelming. I cry out, vision whiting out, entire body clenching around him as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
"Fuck, yes." Cole's control finally breaks completely. He drives deep and hard, chasing his own release, and I feel him come with a guttural groan, heat flooding inside me.
We stay locked together, both gasping, my legs barely supporting me. His weight presses me into the wall and I welcome it, grounding and real.
He pulls out carefully and turns me around. His hands cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone, and some of the predatory edge softens slightly.
"You hurt?" His voice is still rough, the question clinical rather than tender.
"No." I'm shaking, aftershocks still rolling through me. "Good."
He releases me and walks to the bed, stretching out and clearly expecting me to follow. I do, climbing in beside him. He pulls me against his chest without ceremony, more claiming space than offering comfort. His heartbeat thunders against my ear.
"Too rough?"
"No." I press closer despite his lack of softness. "Perfect."
His hand strokes down my spine, the touch more assessing than soothing. "You ignored my orders tonight. Made your own call on tactics." His jaw tightens. "Don't do it again."
"I'll try to follow orders better."
"You will." The response isn't a request but a statement. "Because next time, the consequences will be worse."
The promise sends another shiver through me. The feeling isn't fear but anticipation.
Exhaustion catches up, my body thoroughly used and satisfied. Cole's breathing evens out but doesn't slow completely. That awareness never fully shuts down, even in sleep.
Tomorrow brings Church and the vote on whether the Brotherhood hunts Kline as a club or whether Cole handles it alone.
"Sleep," Cole says eventually, command still edging his voice. "Church starts at oh-seven-hundred. You'll brief me on the financial evidence before I present to the Brothers."
"You're sure they'll vote to help?"
"I'm sure they'll vote to protect what's theirs. Gemma's already family. You're under my personal protection, which makes you my responsibility." His grip tightens on my hip. "Church will vote to extend Brotherhood protection and authorize action against Kline. That's how we operate."
The assessment isn't a guarantee, just a reasonable expectation based on MC culture and Brotherhood loyalty.
I should maintain objectivity. Remember I'm a federal agent, not someone's old lady waiting for a club vote.
But Cole just claimed me with brutal intensity and I'm lying in his bed trusting him to keep me alive.
