Ribbons of pain that felt like pleasure burst through me, growing and building until my own climax shuddered through me. In that moment, Cole released the vise-grip on my nipples, and the feeling rushed back so quickly it made me weak enough that he had no choice but to hold me tight or let me fall to the floor.
“How do you do that?” I asked, when I could once again form words. “How can I be so pissed at you and then you turn it around, and use it to make me explode? And not just explode, but—oh my god, Cole. That was insane.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Still pissed?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “You broke your word.”
“I wanted to ensure he was safe sooner rather than later,” Cole said. “And I didn’t break my word.”
“Bullshit. You—”
“Were intending to tell you the moment I saw you. I only promised to keep you apprised of the plan, Kat. I didn’t say a goddamn word about whether I’d tell you before or after I acted.”
“That’s a truly pitiful argument,” I said. “You knew what I meant.” But at the same time, I deflated. Because damned if his heart wasn’t in the right place. He had moved in—and fast—to protect my dad. And angry or not, that really did mean the world to me.
I lifted myself up on my toes and kissed him.
“I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, Kat. But right here, right now, you’re mine. And I will always take care of what’s mine. And that includes both you and your father. Do you understand?”
I nodded, because I did.
He dampened one of the provided hand towels and then cleaned me up, tending to me so very gently. I sighed, then lifted my arms for him as he put my shirt over my head.
He was taking care of me, dressing me, cherishing me. There was control, yes, but there was also a sweet sensuality to the moment. I thought about that, about the dichotomy of this intense feeling of warmth and safety juxtaposed against the pain and pleasure of the spanking and the pinching.
And as I thought, I realized something else—Cole was like me. Not that he needed to submit, but that he needed to dominate. He hadn’t just wanted to spank and pinch me, he’d needed to. Just now. Last night. Because without that, he couldn’t have reached orgasm any more than I could.
Hadn’t he told me as much when I’d come to his door, boldly demanding that he fuck me? I like it, he’d said, talking about inflicting pain. I need it.
I didn’t know what, but I was certain that he was able to empathize with me because something had happened to him, too. Something that kept him from coming unless he could pull himself over by grabbing onto the red threads of pain.
I was tempted to ask him to tell me. I didn’t, though. He’d tell me eventually, and right then, it was enough to simply understand him. And to know that somehow—through all the crazy shit that had made us who we were—we had ended up in each other’s arms.
sixteen
I followed Cole out of the ladies’ room, ignoring the curious stares from the two women who were entering as we were leaving.
“Oh. My. God,” I said, but Cole just grinned.
“You ready to see your dad?”
“Are you kidding? Of course.”
“Then let’s go.” He led the way down the hall, then to a service elevator.
I frowned as he punched the call button. “We’re going up to see Tyler and Sloane? I thought you were taking me to my dad.”
He stepped into the car. “I am.”
The elevator let us off on the sixth floor, and I followed Cole down the hall toward a corner room. “The Jahn Foundation keeps a suite here for out-of-town visitors. It’s ironic, but the more money you spend on someone, the more often they will donate to a cause.”
The Jahn Foundation, where Angie now worked, had been endowed by Howard Jahn as a charitable foundation with a primary purpose of preservation, restoration, and education regarding all forms of art. All three of the knights sat on the board of directors, so it didn’t surprise me that Cole had access to this suite.
“What about security?” I asked as we paused in front of the door. “There are surely cameras in the elevators and halls.”
“The odds of Muratti checking those are slim. But,” he added before I could voice my protest, “we took precautions anyway. Wig, mustache, lifts in his shoes. We aren’t new to the game, Kat. Remember that.”
“I do,” I said. “But it’s my dad.”