I saw myself there, my hands pressed flat on the vanity, my breasts full and heavy, my nipples dark with arousal. My face was flush, my eyes a little glassy. And Cole loomed behind me, still fully dressed, all power and control and pure masculine heat.
I heard the musical sound of his zipper, then the press of his cock against my ass. “Spread your legs, baby,” he said, but I already had. I wanted this—I might have started out angry, but Cole had turned it all around on me, and now the only thing I wanted was to feel him inside me. The only thing I needed was to do as he said—to let myself go and just feel.
He made a low noise of satisfaction, then reached down and stroked me through my panties. “Oh, yes,” he said. “You’re ready.”
“Yes,” I whispered, then gasped as he yanked the thin strip of satin to one side. “Bend over. That’s right,” he said, and I felt the insistent press of his cock against me, and then the sweet, hard push as he thrust inside.
His hands were on my hips, and as he moved forward, he pulled me back. He filled me completely, and the look on his face—such passion, such intensity—made me almost come right there.
He hadn’t taken off his pants, and the material rubbed my rear as he pistoned against me. The knowledge that I was essentially naked and he was clothed—that he was taking me in this stall, that he could take me anywhere he damn well pleased—shot through me, enticing and terrifying and oh-so satisfying.
He kept one hand on my hip, but the other snaked around to tease my sex. The sensations were almost more than I could bear. The tease of his fingers on my hard, sensitive clit. The rhythmic pounding of his pelvis against my ass. The almost painful way he filled me, going so deep inside me, and with such steady and relentless power.
And then—oh my god—then he abandoned my clit to reach around and pinch my nipples, holding tight and twisting slightly, so that the frenzy of heated fizzles that shot from my breasts to my sex added yet another sensation to the erotic symphony that was building within me.
“Does that hurt?” he asked, squeezing even tighter.
“Yes,” I whispered, hoping that the truth wouldn’t make him stop.
“Do you like it?”
“God, yes.”
“Look in the mirror,” he said, and I realized that I’d closed my eyes. I opened them and saw what had to have been the most erotic vision of my life. Cole’s hands twisting my swollen nipples. My legs parted, my sex damp. My body rhythmically undulating as I took Cole deeper and deeper. And then, when he slid his hand down my belly to tease my clit again, my lips parting in passion and my entire body trembling with the insistent, building climax that threatened to sweep me away.
“Tell me what you see,” he said.
“I’m yours,” I said, my breath a gasp. “I’m at your mercy. I’m in thrall to you.”
“Any time I want, any way I want. Tell me you like knowing that’s true.”
“I do—oh, god, I do.”
“Do you trust me, Kat?”
“Completely.”
“Could I do this to you—fuck you in the bathroom of the goddamn Drake hotel if you didn’t trust me?”
“No.”
“Then trust me to know what I’m doing.”
I nodded. And then, because I couldn’t stand it any longer, I whispered, “Please.”
“Please what?”
I pressed my hand over his on my breast, then drew his other hand up from my clit until he held both my nipples again. “Harder.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he said, and as he squeezed tight—as I cried out from the sweet, delicious pain that shot through me—I felt him explode inside me, his release ripping through both of us.
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.