Misty
Cole backs me against the doorframe, his body curling over mine to chase my mouth as I lower my feet to the floor. The memory of our kiss from the party weeks ago clogs my brain for several delicious seconds. He tastes the same. Warm and minty. His lips are soft but demanding as his tongue slides over my lower lip, beckoning for me to open for him.
The towel covering my body is holding on by a thread as I wrap my arms around his neck. He lifts me up, pinning me against the doorframe and pressing his body to mine. My hand drags down his back, leaving a trail of my healing powers. He trembles, and the kiss turns to something hungry and… wild.
“Stop healing me,” he breathlessly commands.
“No,” I counter, but his mouth steals the word from my lips.
It doesn’t strike me that we should stop. There’s no reason for this. This attraction, this bone-shattering need I’ve felt since we slept together for the first time–as quick and cold as that was. Maybe it’s morbid curiosity. Maybe it’s my utter desire to know everything–to pick him apart until I find what makes him tick–who he used to be, before the order stole those parts of him away.
But this is the perfect distraction from our crumbling worlds. Right now, there’s no war. Right now, a curse isn’t eating away at him. Right now, I’m not separated from my family and hidden away in a kingdom I don’t know, chased by a dictator who wants me for my powers.
Right now, I’m warmed through and seeking solace in him.
All while he’s losing himself in me.
He holds me up by my thighs, my legs wrapped around his waist. He pushes my wet hair away from my neck, one hand cupping my throat to keep me where he wants me.
His scent overwhelms my senses. When his free hand leaves my neck to caress my cheek, the motion followed by a soft, tender kiss, I… fold. The world around us fades to nothing but the taste of him on my tongue and the feeling of his strong arms carrying me to the bed. He lays me down in its center, climbing over me and pulling the towel loose. He’s out of his pants in moments, but there’s nothing cold and medical about this. Not this time.
I’ve never been kissed like this. Every sweep of his tongue–every hard, hungry press and soft, tender stroke has my heart skipping beats. A sensation of warmth fills my chest, making it hard to catch my breath. Or, maybe that’s just because we’re kissing so much and so hard I haven’t given myself a moment to breathe.
The sheets are warm from the sun as his mouth travels to my neck, sucking bruises across my collarbone, and lower, to my breasts. He draws his tongue across one of my nipples, stopping to suck it into his hot, hungry mouth. I arch into the sensation, exhaling sharply in a moan.
Cole hums with desire. His hands glide down my sides, one hand resting on the swell of my hip while the other cups my opposite breast, kneading and squeezing while I writhe beneath him.
Every part of this is new to me. This… worship. This sudden obsession on his end. The look in his eyes when he finally rises to kiss my mouth again is heavy and hooded, like he’s completely lost his mind, and he’s more than happy about it. That warmth in my chest brightens with… relief.
I’m not sure why I have this overwhelming sense that I can comfort this man I barely know, and only know because of horrible circumstances, but that knowledge trips something in my brain, igniting the growing sense that… something else is going on here.
Focus, Misty, I tell myself, taking a deep breath between kisses. That dull, throbbing ache between my legs starts to steal my rational mind, and I’m more than okay with it. I’ll think later. Much, much later.
His legs are tangled with mine now, his arms wrapped around me, holding me against him. I rake my fingers through his short, soft hair–soft like silk. I want him to grow it out for me. I want to ask that of him. I want to lie in bed with him and ask him about his life, his interests, his desires and….
He goes still, holding himself up on an elbow.
“What is it?” I whisper, turning his cheek to look at me. “Cole?”
His free hand strokes down my hip. His cock is rigid against my inner thigh. I want him to just–to just do what he did the other night. I rock my hips against his in emphasis.
His mouth moves like he’s trying to say something, to tell me something, but thinks better of it.
“Please,” I whisper, sounding needy… whiny, actually. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. The corner of his mouth ticks into what I’d consider a smile. A small one, but it was there. I saw it. “You smiled again,” I whisper, stroking my thumb across his lower lip until I reach the corner of his mouth.
“I’m trying,” he admits, and that crushes me.
Oh, Cole, I think, running my fingertips over his profile. He’s been through so much. He’s been carrying too much. Taking care of everyone but himself.
I promise myself at that very moment that I will be the one taking care of him from now on.
So, I throw my weight against him. He huffs in surprise as he lands on his back in the center of the bed, looking up at me with a startled, confused expression lighting behind those lovely gray eyes. I straddle him, panting, unsure what I’m supposed to do next, but the need bouncing through my body seems to know exactlywhat to do.
I reach between us, sliding my fingers down the length of his cock and back up again. His chest heaves, but his eyes don’t leave mine, not until I guide the head of his cock through the slickness between my thighs, through my folds, pausing on my clit.
My toes curl. He groans softly, arching his hips on impulse. I do the motion again, and again, teasing us both until we’re both panting and trembling.
Even in my anger over his abrupt dismissal, I understood why he’d been so furious after we’d done this for the first time.
He felt like he’d taken something from me.
“I want this,” I say in a voice that sounds wholly unfamiliar. Normally, I’m confident. Steadfast and sure. Now, my voice wobbles, edged with guilt over how this happened for us the first time, and how I thought his behavior afterward had been because of me. “Do you?”
“Yes,” he says, his voice low and rasping. “I do.”
I slide onto his cock with more effort than I anticipated. He grits his teeth as I slowly move my hips, begging my body to adjust to his size, but I’m struggling. His hands rest on the curve of my waist, trying to guide my movements but I’m… not very good. I hate not being great at something the very first time I try it.
Suddenly, he’s pulling me down, taking my mouth in another heated kiss that nearly breaks me out of my own spiral of self-doubt, then promptly flips me over onto my back.
He kisses me as his cock parts my folds. He buries himself deep, groaning against my mouth, the sound of his pleasure causing my inner muscles to throb and tighten around him in anticipation.
“I hurt you the last time, didn’t I?” he whispers against my cheek. He ropes his arm around my leg, guiding my knee up. He slowly presses into me again, hitting a new depth–a new spot deep inside that has me gasping and moaning his name.
Cole smiles–with teeth. A real smile. It’s nearly enough to push me over the edge into sweet oblivion, but he’s not done with me yet.
“Move with me,” he commands, rocking his hips into mine. “Match my tempo. Yeah, just like–just like that.”
His other arm slides between my back and the sheets, his hand resting on the back of my neck as he presses our bodies together, thrusting into me in deep, measured strokes. He kisses me over and over again, deciding the speed and depth of his thrusts based on the needy sounds I make as the ache ghosting through my body turns to molten need.
“Cole–” I gasp, arching my back as he slows his movements, grinding his hips into mine.
He kisses my breasts, groaning as he drags in, and out, savoring the feeling of my muscles clamping down around him.
This is not like last time. His hands are everywhere–touching me, exploring my body with fervor that edges on obsession..
I’m into it. My inhibitions slip away completely, and it’s just me and him, our bodies open to each other, and I’m going to come… right now.
I arch off the bed, chasing that delicious friction, but Cole slows his movements and presses me against the mattress.
Nose to nose, he looks down at me, slightly shaking his head. “Don’t come.”
“But–you said that last time!” I bare my teeth in frustration when he stops moving completely, still buried to the hilt. I writhe, pouting and about to start begging when he kisses me softly, tenderly.
He pulls away, tracing kisses across my jaw, down my neck.
“Cole, please,” I whimper, raking my nails down his back. I’m sure he’s thankful he allowed me to heal him again. He pulls out of me, groaning under his breath before trailing kissing down my stomach.
My inhibitions are suddenly on high alert. I try to squeeze my thighs together but his head is… in the way.
“Relax,” he breathes, then he’s kissing my inner thigh, gently dragging his teeth over the sensitive, heated skin toward my center.
I clap my hand over my mouth in disbelief, and to stop myself from screaming in sheer, unhinged ecstasy when his tongue parts my folds.
I knew this was a thing. Fia and Darby had a spirited argument about it once–when Darby’s current fling said he hated it, that it was dirty, and Fia and Georgia told her to dump him immediately. I’d laughed along with them, acting like I knew what they were talking about, but in reality, I’d barely let Nathan touch me beneath my bra and now… now Cole’s spreading my legs wide and groaning, lapping my clit, his fingers sliding into of me and hooking, which makes me instantly see stars.
But there’s something in the way. My own stupid, raging thoughts. My memory of the night he ripped the bloody sheets from the bed and stuffed them in Nathan’s arm. Cole’s face had been so broken–so beyond regretful. So sorry.
“Misty,” he breathes against my thigh. I open my eyes and look down at him, a tear sliding free from my lashes and rolling down my temple. He keeps his eyes on me as he kisses my knee, then moves up to me again, wrapping his arms around me.
“I’m sorry–”
“Don’t,” he rasps, kissing me again–softly, brushing my tear away with his thumb.
I reach between us, stroking his cock before guiding him back inside of me. I feel a pinch of soreness, of heat, before he settles and begins to move in slow, easy strokes.
There’s something about his weight on me that does the trick. He’s everywhere, blurring my senses, stealing my thoughts, making my powers simmer beneath my skin. I feel those tingles again–like electricity building at the base of my spine. My thighs tighten, my muscles coiling with delicious tension. I’m so focused on the way Cole’s making me feel that I haven’t noticed that he’s buried his face in the crook of my neck and fisting the sheets on either side of me, his body tightening like he’s desperately trying to hold something back.
I rake my fingers through his hair again, whimpering from sheer pleasure into his shoulder. When my teeth graze his skin, he shudders, murmuring something I can’t decipher.
The orgasm is softer than the first time we were together. It moves through me in slow, unhurried waves. I gasp, then sigh as pleasure rocks through my body, beating in time with my racing heart. Cole lifts his head, kissing me through it, riding out wave after wave of release until I’m limp in his arms and warmed to the bone.
He grunts, tightening his grip, then drops to the side and drags me against his chest.
We lie there for several minutes trying to catch our breath.
My eyes feel heavy as I blink into the sunlight. I have no idea what time it is, but being next to Cole has me feeling the safest I’ve ever felt. I could sleep. Slip into that dead kind of sleep where even visions won’t wake me.
I close my eyes.
A string I’ve never noticed before plucks in my chest.