He tilted his head up to meet my eyes, and I saw a gleam of anticipation in his eye that matched my own.
“Take me home,” I said, brushing my lips over his ear one more time. “Take me home right now.”
“Hell, yes,” he said, and I swear we broke a dozen traffic laws getting back to my house in just over half an hour. A feat which pretty much defied the laws of nature.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he said once we were in the room. “I’m going to take you every way possible tonight,” he said. “But first I want you on the cross. I want your back red. I want your body to sing.”
I nodded, my mouth too dry to form words.
Without waiting for him to tell me, I positioned myself. And as I did, reality meshed with the fantasy. I’d felt this before. The way the bindings at my wrists and ankles felt. The pressure of the padding against my skin.
And then—yes—the sharp sting of the first blow, and then the second, and on and on, with the pain rising, but the pleasure building, too. Growing from beneath the pain, pushing up like lava from a volcano that would soon burst forth and cover everything.
And it did. Adrenaline, endorphins, magic fairy dust. I didn’t know the reason or care. All I knew was that I’d crossed a line, just as I had in the fantasy. And just as Cole had talked me through in the car, now he was leading me through in the flesh.
I was floating. I was lost. I was rapturous. And the fact that this kind of sex, crossing over from light kink to a little bit harder stuff, drew me in so fully, only cemented my certainty that Cole and I fit together perfectly.
A fact that he proved in a much more literal way when he took me off the cross. I moaned against him, feeling alive and intensely aroused. My body might be limp and languid, but my sex was hot and wet and my breasts were tender and sensitive.
He put me facedown on the bed, a position I thought was to spare my shoulders, still sore from the flails, but turned out to be so much more.
He drew his hand slowly over me, stroking me, then bending over to kiss me. He spread my legs, then thrust hard inside me, his hand on my clit making me spiral even higher and faster.
He felt warm and wonderful and familiar inside me—or at least he did until I felt the lube on his fingers and then the press of his thumb against my ass. “I’m taking you here,” he said. “I need to have you every way,” he said. “I need to feel you tight around me.”
I nodded, wordless, because while he’d been talking, his thumb had been doing amazing things, teasing and stretching me, making me ready, so that when he pressed his cock to my ass, I was ready—at least as much as I could be.
He pushed inside me. Slowly, gently, but I sucked in a sharp breath anyway. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” I said truthfully. “But it feels good,” I said, also truthfully.
“I’ll go slow,” he said, “but oh, god, baby, you feel amazing.”
“Don’t stop,” I demanded. “I want it all.”
“Greedy.”
“Yes,” I agreed, and sucked in another breath as he pushed even farther inside me. Again I felt the pain, and then again—but after that something miraculous happened, because the pain shifted again to pleasure, just as it had on the cross. “Harder,” I demanded. “Please, Cole, I want the rest of you.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, and when I nodded, he thrust inside, sending swirls of pain and pleasure curling through me.
His own moan of pleasure matched mine, and he fucked me hard, just like he’d said he would. Hard and deep and fast until he exploded inside me, then collapsed against me, pulling me close and lazily stroking my clit to bring me over, too.
After, I lay curled in his arms. I was facing the cross, and I simply looked at it for a moment. “Thank you,” I said to the man pressed against me.
“For what?”