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As if that is what he’s waited for, he replies with, “Three counts, remember? Now, Lori, are you ready?”
“No.” My breath blasts from my lungs. “Yes. I mean, yes.”
“Now,” he says again, and this time now means now. His hand comes down on my backside, and it’s as he promised. A sting I feel, arching my back with the impact, and already his palm returns.
“Two,” I breathe out and no sooner do I say that word then I feel the last burn of his palm. Three. My sex clenches and I arch forward, but a moment later, Cole is pulling me up, and I’m straddling his lap, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes. Yes, I’m—” His mouth closes down on mine and the minute his tongue licks into my mouth, I moan and sink into the kiss. I didn’t want to need anything tonight, but I need this kiss. I need him. I need—
He lifts me, and I shift with him, wanting what he seeks, wanting him inside me. Cole balances my weight, lifting me, and oh God, yes, he presses inside me, stretching me. Pleasing me. He pulls me down onto his erection, even as he thrusts up and hard. I grip his shoulders, and when our eyes meet, there is a pulse between us that radiates through my body. He doesn’t feel like a stranger. He doesn’t feel like he was supposed to feel and yet he feels perfect.
He moves, and I move, and we begin to thrust and pump, and his hands cup my breasts, lips on my lips, on my neck. On my nipple, tugging it while my body rocks against that tug. I can’t get enough of him, or move fast enough, or deep enough. He folds me into his body, strong arms holding me, and he kisses me. We continue to rock and rock some more, and more, and then I’m there—so very there—falling into him and the pleasure. Tumbling over the edge, until my body stiffens, my sex clenching around his thick erection.
I bury my face in his neck and he drives into me. A low guttural groan slides from his lips and I quake with release, shuddering all over to the point that I can’t breathe. I lose time. I lose the ability to freely think or move. There is just this man, and intense pleasure. This man that holds me through every last spasm, and doesn’t let go, not even when I collapse into him, against him. I feel him sink deeper into the cushions with me, the two of us easing into the aftermath of what just happened together.
That’s when I start to tremble again, for an entirely new reason I don’t understand; a wave of emotion overwhelming me. It’s not regret. It’s not fear. It’s something indescribable. I try to pull away from Cole, but he tightens his hold on me.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Cole murmurs. “It’s the endorphins you’re feeling from the spanking. It’ll pass.” He eases me back and rubs my arms. “It’ll pass.”
“Soon, I hope,” I whisper, gripping his arms.
“It will,” he promises. “Just breathe through it. It happens after the high, especially when it’s new to you. Take another deep breath.”
Inhaling and exhaling, my lashes lower with the trickle of air from my lips. Cole folds me against him again and before I know his intent, he stands up, taking me with him, and I quickly grab his neck, forced to hold on until we’re in the bathroom, and he’s setting me down on the sink. “Hang tight, sweetheart,” he says, and walks toward the toilet, tosses the condom, pulls on a pair of sweats, and then grabs the hotel robe from a hook and wraps it around me, holding onto the lapels. “Better now?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, realizing now that I’m no longer shaking. “Yes. It’s passing. I’m better.”
“Good.”
He gives me an inquiring look, his blue eyes probing but gentle. “Did you like it?”
This is where I should feel awkward about the question, about being spanked by this man, but somehow, I just—don’t. “Yes. I did. I’m surprised that I did.”
“I’m not,” he says, “or I wouldn’t have suggested it.”
“Why aren’t you surprised?”
“Because the danger of never letting go is you lose yourself. When you lose yourself, you lose what you’re after, why you’re doing what you’re doing. Been there, done that.”
I want to ask more. I want to understand. I want to know why he saw this in me, but I’m treading on tomorrow territory and he doesn’t give me a chance anyway. His hands come down on my waist and he sets me on the floor in front of him, tying the belt around the robe for me. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s order room service.”
I want to say yes. Why does this man make me want to say yes to everything?
“This is where I’m supposed to leave.”
“Says who?” he asks.
“Me. I said—”
“One night,” he says, “not two hours. Which means our one night is not over. I leave tomorrow morning. What do you have to lose by staying?”
What do I have to lose?
Myself, I think.
My career.
My independence.
