My body aches for his touch. I’m wound so tight that it feels like I’m coming undone. “Cole, you can’t leave me like this.”
“I don’t think you’re up to the kind of things I like to do.” Cole tosses back the rest of his drink and leaves the glass on the table next to him. “And I have no intention of pressuring you. You’re too young for me, Miss Lamore. There’s no way this will end well.”
“Anna,” I say breathlessly. My eyes lock with his. “And I don’t care how old we are or aren’t. I know you want me. I can feel it. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you look at me.” His lips part like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He watches me as I crawl back onto his bed and lift my shirt over my head. I wiggle out of my pants and sit half-dressed on his bed. He watches me, his eyes drinking in every inch of my body. I kneel there, letting him look before saying, “Show me what you like.”
Cole remains still, slouching back in the chair like he doesn’t care that there’s a naked woman on his bed, but his eyes say something entirely different. They are dark, and threaten to devour me.
Cole blinks slowly, like he made a decision. His voice is even, unemotional. He breathes normally, like I don’t affect him. “Lean back against the headboard, and part your legs.” His tone is firm, commanding. It makes me feel afraid and excited. My eyes are locked on his face. I can’t look away. Pushing myself up, I lean back against the headboard and part my legs. He can see between my legs from where he’s sitting. My heart slams into my ribs as my stomach swirls with anticipation.
“Slip your bra off,” he commands. I reach around and unhook the bra. Cole watches carefully, taking in the sway of my breasts. When my hands are over my head, I realize how much he likes to watch. I slow my movements before tossing the bra to the floor, letting him look. “Now the panties,” he says.
I lift my bottom, and slide them down my thighs. I lift my legs, pulling them out of the leg holes one at a time. I pick up the bottoms and toss them to him. Cole catches them and presses the scrap of fabric to his face and breathes in. The action shocks me so much that I gasp. Cole glances up at me and smiles that predatory grin he has sometimes. It makes me shiver, but I’m not backing down. I want him and this is what he wants. I part my legs, spreading them wide. Cole’s eyes are locked on the sensitive flesh between my legs. I press myself back against the headboard, arching my body as I do it. His eyes drift to my breasts and then my face. His eyes lock with mine.
“Take one hand and spread your lips. Take the other and run a single finger over your clit, barely touching it.” His voice slides over me. His words make my face turn bright red. Cole watches me, his arms folded, his gaze hot. My left hand parts my lips and my breath hitches. I lower my gaze when my right hand is on my clit, but he says, “Watch me, Anna. Don’t look away.”
I stroke my clit and look into his eyes, “Yes, Cole,” I purr his name and blink slowly. My hand moves between my legs stroking the sensitive skin again and again, never taking my eyes off of him. My body flares to life, the lower parts of me tingle with anticipation, wanting more. My hips lift slightly, meeting my hand.
Cole sits across the room. He leans back in his chair, his hands on the arms. He breathes deeply, and leans forward watching me, not breaking eye contact. When my hips start to buck, he says, “Only move your hand, Anna.” Cole’s voice is hard, commanding.
I watch him as he says it and notice his gaze darken. He watches me move my hand across my body, stroking myself slowly. I try not to move and find it difficult. If he suggested doing this, I would have been mortified, but in the moment, it feels sexy and I don’t want to stop. My fingers move against my slick flesh with Cole watching, his gaze taking in every slow blink, every hitched breath as I fight to keep my senses and not come.
Cole’s gaze shifts between my eyes and the place between my legs. He watches as my muscles tense, and I try to remain still. I have trouble keeping my eyes open. I want to close them and lose myself in the steady heat that’s building between my legs, but Cole changes things. The onslaught of sensations flooding through my body overwhelms me. I want to do anything he says, I want to hear his voice telling me what to do. It’s hard to stay still, but Cole’s eyes pin me, so that only my hand moves.
“Faster,” he says. “Harder.”
My hand develops a quick rhythm moving between my legs. Wet heat throbs inside of me, begging for release. Every inch of my body is corded tight. My stomach twists into knots as Cole watches me. The way he sits there makes me think he doesn’t care, but his eyes say something else.