I’ve kissed a lot men in my twenty-four years, and every kiss applied the same mechanics. Parting lips, swiping tongues, and the dreaded sharing of spit. Since meeting Cole, I realize a real kiss is more than the motion of mouths. It’s an inspiration. A creation of something unfathomable and timeless. And the art of kissing begins and ends with Cole Hartman.
He kisses like his mission in life is to devour every breath I take and give it back with an infusion of love. His lips are firm, his hands active, his entire body bunching and rocking against me. Intensity lives in his blood, dominating his emotions and attitude. He doesn’t do anything half-ass, especially when it comes to me.
“I need you,” he says gruffly as his mouth veers along my jaw to latch onto my neck.
“I’m filthy.”
“No question about that. You’re my dirty little fuck doll.” He grips the backs of my knees and flips me onto my back.
I don’t slam against the floor, because his arm is there, catching my fall. I don’t know when he removed the ring from the box, but it’s in his hand as he crawls over me and slides it onto my finger.
“Perfect fit,” we say together.
His possessive smile is worth more than a mine filled with precious stones. My chest overflows with more love than it can hold.
“I’m going to break you tonight.” He bites my nipple through the bra.
“Is that before or after I drain your balls?”
“Yes.” He moves to my other breast, sliding down the cup to lave at my taut bud.
“Good.” I moan, arching against the wicked sensation of his talented mouth. “I don’t want to feel my face or hands after you’re finished with me.”
“I’m going to use you.” He unbuttons my shorts and pulls them off, taking my panties with them. “And abuse you.”
“Do it.”
“I’m going split you in half.” He kneels between my legs and spreads my thighs wide, taking full advantage of my flexibility.
“Any time now would be great.” I writhe beneath him, wanting, aching, throbbing with wet arousal.
“When I pull your hair, you’ll scream for it, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper.”
“Because I love your dick. Now stop teasing me and serve it up, you dirty bastard.”
He laughs thickly, hungrily, and falls on top of me, attacking my mouth with breathless urgency. Whatever restraint he was holding onto snaps. The arm at my back keeps my bare skin from sliding against the splintery subfloor, but he’s shaking now, struggling to suspend me as he grinds the fly of his jeans against my pussy.
“Just put me down.” I reach between us and try to open his jeans.
With a deep growl, he surges to his feet, hauling me with him. The room spins, and my back crashes against a mirrored wall. He lifts me, wraps my legs around his waist, and shoves a hand between us, fumbling with his zipper.
The ragged sound of his breaths permeates the air, and the balm of hard labor and masculine musk fills my lungs. All of it makes me crazy with need. I palm his hard buttocks through the jeans and grind against his hand, rubbing my wetness all over him.
“Goddamn, you’re soaked.” His muscular backside flexes in my grip, and he abandons his fly to shove his fingers inside me.
Holy fuck, I feel him everywhere, stroking inside me, his tongue in my mouth, his skin slick and hot slipping against mine. I want to kiss and lick every inch of him, but he’s covered in a golden layer of sawdust.
“Shower,” I breathe against his lips.
He grunts in agreement and works off his shoes and jeans. Commando, of course. My sexy rebel doesn’t own a single pair of underwear.
Naked, he holds me against the swollen length of his cock and exits the dance studio through the kitchen, heading toward the bathroom. I cling to his shoulders, sucking on his full lips and clenching my thighs around his waist.
We don’t make it far before he finds a sturdy surface—the front of the refrigerator—and slams his cock into me. The vicious thrust rips a hoarse groan from his throat, and his hands shake and flex on my thighs.
“Fuck! Ohfuckohfuck!” I spasm around the thick invasion and stab my fingers in his hair, holding on. “Fuck me like you own me.”
“I do own you.” He kicks his hips, driving into me ruthlessly, while wrenching my head back and forcing my eyes to meet the feral gleam in his. “I want your come. Your screams. Your pleasure. Give it to me.”
I do. I scream his name as a swell of lust rises and builds into an unbearable pressure that detonates in rippling sparks of sensation. The hammer of his hips propels me through the toe-curling orgasm, pounding me against the fridge and sending beer bottles tumbling and clanking inside.
His chest heaves, and his pupils dilate as he holds me in unwavering eye contact.
“You look so fucking hot coming on my cock.” He smiles savagely and continues to thrust while aftershocks of pleasure twitch and jerk through my limbs. “God, I love your cunt.”
“My cunt loves you,” I say through labored breaths. “You should put a ring on it.”
He tenses, and his response rolls out like a growl. “A piercing?”
“Sure.”
His dick gives a hard jerk inside me. “Tomorrow. We’re busy tonight.”
He peels my sticky body off the fridge and carries me through the hall and into the bathroom. It’s a tiny space, and it seems even smaller since he moved in. With his broad bulky frame, he’s like a bear bumping into the walls and stumbling against the tub and toilet.
As I stretch out an arm to dial in the water temperature in the shower, he holds me on his cock, thrusting me up and down and sucking on my neck.
“I want to fall asleep inside you tonight.” He draws my earlobe into his mouth and circles a finger around my clit, working me into Cole-induced orgasm addiction.
Any woman who claims she doesn’t like sex hasn’t been on the receiving end of Cole’s cock. Unfortunately, I’d be hard-pressed to find many of those women, because he’s plowed his way through the greater St. Louis area.
My molars slam together, and I inwardly curse my ill-timed thoughts.
His fingers pause on my clit, and he leans back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I kiss his parted lips.
“Bullshit.” He steps into the tub and positions my back beneath the warm spray.
I sigh and relax against his chest, sliding my cheek against his scruffy jaw. “I was thinking about your slutty days.”
“I don’t think about that. Ever.” He shifts, pressing me against the tiles so he can cradle my face in his hands. “My life began the day we met. There is no before. Only you.”
I trace a finger along his dark brow, around the outer corner of one deep brown eye, and follow the chiseled angle of his face. “You’re beautiful.”
He squints. “I’m not a fan of—”
“Handsome.”
“Better.” He crooks a sexy grin and drags his nose alongside mine.
“And manly.” I grip his rock-solid ass, delighting in the feel of soft skin over steel.
“Now you’re talking.”
I love the way he tilts his head to follow me with his eyes. Whenever I’m in his arms, he keeps his face close to mine, always watching, studying, touching his brow, lips, nose, or cheek to mine, as if he can’t get close enough, breathing me in, smelling me, and tasting my skin. His attentiveness is unparalleled. I’ve never met anyone like him.