Page 143 of Hard Pass

And I’m determined to make him unravel.

So I take my time. I tease instead of give. Every slow drag of my tongue over the seam on the underside of his cock. Every time I twist my hand at his base in tandem with me sucking harder. The pop that happens when my lips release him.

My whole body burns at the sight of him. His muscles tensing and body pleasuring. His head falling back and his grip on control slipping.

And just when I think he’s going to snap, to let my mouth take him there, his hands are under my arms hauling me upward, mouth crashing against mine hard enough to swallow my startled gasp.

His hands roam everywhere at once—ass, thighs, waist—like he can’t touch enough of me fast enough as he continues the kiss. And then from one heartbeat to the next, he has me turned around, bent over the back of the couch and is pushing my skirt up as he laces kisses to the back of my neck.

“I need this right now. Need you,” he says as he pushes my panties aside and lines the head of his cock up. With one hand on my shoulder for leverage and the other gripping the side of my ass, he pushes into me, the need vibrating through him and right back into me.

He fills me, stretches me, and the burn melts into a pulse that thunders up my spine and swallows me in sensations. My chest presses against the cool leather while his breath on my neck is hot, each ragged exhale matching the drive of his hips and the roughness of his grip on me.

He’s everywhere at once, grinding and relentless, the tremble of restraint in his every movement. I reach back, desperate for any part of him, and he finds my hand and threads his fingers through mine. The only sound in the room are our moans and the slap of our skin meeting.

We rock together, and my need rises with the friction. The ache. The incredible, sweet burn. I can’t help the sounds that fall from my lips or the way I push back to meet his every thrust as my body chases the edge. And somehow the combination completely destroys me.

And every time I think I’m about to fall apart, he pulls me right back under him when he murmurs praise—there’s my girl, come for me, Dub, right fucking there—and dirty promises—take every goddamn inch of me, fucking milk me dry—in that low, wrecked voice of his.

There’s a shudder, a catch in his rhythm. “Fuck, you feel—” He chokes out and nips the skin on my shoulder as his body blankets mine before pulling me back up some with his.

The change of angle undoes me. My skin prickles with sweat and need and desperation. “Please,” I mewl and welcome his sudden quickening of pace. The urgency that clings to his every movement.

The jagged rock of his hips. The grunts in my ear. The roughness of his hands.

“Cole,” I cry as my body freefalls into the pleasure.

“I know,” he grits out. “I got you.”

And just as soon as those words are on his lips, he comes quickly, hard, his hands bruising as he holds me still and uses my body to take what I wanted to give him.

What I started.

We’re boneless and breathless, and I’m pretty sure I forgot my own name somewhere in the last few minutes.

Cole drags me against his chest and then surprises me by holding me tight and then falling unceremoniously over the back of the couch so that we land on the cushions—him against the cushions and my back against his chest. We’re a tangled mess in a half-undressed state, and we lie there for a beat while our breathing evens out and he presses lazy kisses to my bare shoulder.

This man walked into a firestorm for me tonight and never once hesitated. Then he told me I was staying at his house so that he could protect me.

The independent, very capable part of me bucks at the idea of needing protection. The other part of me who has had her confidence rocked and world upended feels taken care of in a way I never believed I’d like.

But at the same time, how is this going to work? Sure, the sex is great—correction, mind-blowing—and we have a history, but this is a huge change for both of us.

“For the record, Trouble, that was yeah.” He lays his hand on my stomach, sliding it under the fabric and leaves it there.

“It was,” I murmur.

“But?” He chuckles. “I feel a but coming when I don’t really think it has any place in what just happened.”

“No buts, but there is the thought that I should go find my designated room before I completely invade your space that you’re probably so used to having to yourself.”

He tightens his arm around me instantly. “Not happening.”

The firmness in his voice should probably concern me, instead his unexpected response has warmth spreading through my chest. “Cole—”

“You think I’m letting you go? Don’t you feel how comfortable I am as a pillow?” The amusement in his voice is undeniable.

“More like a mattress.” I wiggle my ass against him. “You’re kind of hard though.”