And there was the way he reached up, found my breast, and twisted my nipple in time with the way his tongue teased my sex.
All in all he was a one-man symphony, giving pleasure with the licks and strokes. Giving pain with the twists to my nipples, the small spanks, and even the sharp nips of teeth against my overly sensitive clit.
Like a symphony, the pain and the pleasure rose, dark and light, swirling and spinning. Building to a sensational climax.
Unlike a symphony, I didn’t know if we would ever reach those ultimate heights. After all, I never had before with a guy, and despite everything that had happened tonight—all the new sensations, and all these glorious new experiences—at the end of the day, an orgasm was still an orgasm, and I couldn’t escape the memories and shame that were tied up with letting that sorry bastard take me there.
But Cole wasn’t him. And he never could be. Cole wasn’t a sneak or a worm. Cole demanded what he wanted; he didn’t steal it like a thief in the night.
When Cole touched me, it didn’t make me want to hide. Instead, it lifted me up.
I thought of Cole. Of his mouth on my clit. Of his fingers on my nipple. Of the pleasure he was shooting through me.
I thought of him and I flew a little bit higher and wondered if, really, this could be possible.
And when I heard his voice—that demand-filled, no-nonsense voice—telling me to “come, come now, Catalina,” I reached out with all my might, thrust my hand into the nearest star, and knew that it was a day for miracles.
Because even as my mind tried to fathom this inconceivable truth—even as Cole cried out my name and urged me to go over now, now, now—my body shattered into a billion points of light that shimmered and burst and sparkled and shimmied. And then, finally, were still and satisfied.
And, most of all, content.
eleven
Cole’s arms were tight around me, my back pressed to his front, my ass nestled tight against him. I felt warm and safe and satisfied, but something wasn’t quite right.
It took me a moment to realize that I was hearing Cole’s voice. Low and worried, telling me that it was okay, that I was fine.
The concern in his voice confused me—until I realized that slow tears were rolling down my cheeks, and when I drew in a startled breath, I tasted salt water.
“No,” I whispered. He’d untied my hands, and now I shifted so that I could lift a hand and wipe away the tears. “No, I’m fine. I’m more than fine.” I rolled over in his arms, saw the unease in his eyes, and wanted to cry for real. “They’re not bad tears,” I promised, then pressed my lips gently to his. “I feel wonderful. You’re wonderful.”
His brow furrowed, as if he was debating whether or not to believe me, and the raw emotion I saw there was so sweet and genuine it made me smile. More than that, it made me laugh, then lean in and press a wet, salty kiss to his lips.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Now the concern just looked like confusion. “For what?”
For caring. For being here. For everything.
I didn’t say any of that, though. Instead I just brushed another kiss over his lips, drew in a breath, and gathered the courage to tell him the one thing that I had never shared with another living soul.
“I haven’t—you know—with a guy in, well, never.”
That wasn’t entirely accurate, but I wasn’t ready to tell him the entire truth.
“Slept with?”
“Come,” I said, as my cheeks burned. I focused on his shoulder. On the ink work on that stunning dragon wing. Because I damn sure couldn’t meet his eyes. “You know. Climaxed. Had an orgasm.” I lifted a shoulder as if this were no big deal and I wasn’t utterly and completely mortified.
But I still didn’t look at him.
“Tell me,” he said, in a voice as gentle as a breeze.
“I just did.”
“Tell me why not.”
I shrugged, then looked away so as not to let him see the lie on my face. “It’s just the way I’m wired.”