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Cole
Lori is still standing in front of the window of our bedroom, the New York City lights speckling the night sky behind her. I’m still in the chair where I sat down, leaving her in front of me and with good reason. I need to be in control and not for me tonight, but for her. I’ve let my past make her feel she has to revert back to the days before she met me when the world was on her shoulders and there was no one to hold it up but her. I made her revert back to a place I never wanted her to be again. To a place where she didn’t know I was there, holding it up for her. And so, we go back in time the way she has, and I remind her that from the day she met me she instinctively trusted me. She let me spank her. She let me be that person and place where she could just let go.
I remove my jacket and toss it aside, but Lori still hasn’t moved. “Undress,” I order again, as I had when I first sat down.
“You want me to undress?” Lori asks, a tentativeness to her words that isn’t normally there, not with me. As if she senses what’s in the air, as if she feels exposed and vulnerable when I’m the man who loves her, who would die for her.
“Yes,” I say. “I want you to undress.”
“You undress, too,” she orders softly, but she doesn’t move. She makes no attempt to undress when she’s done it for me before, on the night we met, in fact.
“Not tonight,” I say. “Not yet. I want to watch you.”
“Why?”
“Because I do and because I want you to want me to.”
She studies me for several long beats and then kicks off her shoes. Her jacket comes next. She tosses it on the chair on top of mine. “My blouse. You had to zip it this morning for me. I need you to unzip it now.” We both know she can get it off herself and we both know that she’s obviously trying to pull me back into the same space with her when I’ve set us apart for a reason. She expects me to stand up, to help her, but I don’t.
“Come here,” I order.
Obviously assuming she’s won back control, she does as I say, but I don’t touch her and I don’t stand up. “Turn around.”
She turns but still, I do not stand. “On your knees.”
She rotates to face me. “On my knees?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I say, my hands going to her hips, offering her reassurance. “On your knees so I can get to the zipper.”
“But you—”
“Stop asking questions. Do what I say and do it because you trust me.”
Her eyes soften, an earnest look in their depths. “I do trust you, Cole.”
“I know you do, but I think you’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t,” she says, her hands settling on mine. “Not even for a moment.”
“Then turn back around and go down on your knees.”
This time she doesn’t hesitate. She turns and goes down on her knees in front of me. I reach out and brush her hair to one side and when I could unzip her blouse, I instead close my hands on her shoulders and press my lips to her neck. I want her to feel vulnerable, but I also want her to remember that this is me, this is us, and that means she can just let go. Just be with me.
She inhales with the touch of my lips, and lowers her chin, absorbing the touch, giving herself to the moment, and this pleases me. This tells me that wall is not wide or high, and just knowing this has me hot and hard, ready to pull her to me and make love to her, but that won’t force her to pull that wall down. She’s guarded herself with it for far too long. I reach up and drag the zipper of her blouse down to the middle of her back. Two of my fingers follow, gently gliding up and down her bare back. Goosebumps lift everywhere I touch, this reaction telling me she’s one hundred percent right here with me, exactly where I want and need her.
The room is silent, complete utter silence, except for our breathing, and I let that encase us, let it consume us, let it tell us that there is only us here now. I slip my hands under her blouse and caress the silk off her shoulders. A soft sound escapes her lips and the barely there sound echoing through the room, heats my blood. I unhook her bra, and then she drags it all up and over her head, and when she would stand up, my hands settle on her shoulders, holding her in place. “Don’t move until I tell you to move. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “I understand.”
I drag my hands down her shoulders, settling them for a moment at her slender waist before I’m traveling over her ribcage and cupping her breasts. She can’t lean into me, not with her feet against the chair and that forces her to arch into my hands. I squeeze her roughly, my fingers closing over her nipples with no gentleness in my touch. She moans and covers my hands with hers, trying to turn, but I don’t let her. That’s not where this is going. I lean forward, widening my legs to press my cheek to hers, my hands settling back on her shoulders. “Stand up. Take off everything but don’t turn around. Go down on your hands and knees.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Repeat it. What are you going to do?”
“Turn around and undress you.”
“Not tonight, sweetheart. Tonight, you’re going to remind us both how much you trust me.”
