Page 9 of No Words
His mouth finds mine again, harder this time, more demanding. His hand slides down my body, fingers expertly undoing my pants before slipping beneath the fabric. He groans against my mouth when he feels how shamefully ready I am for him.
“So wet already,” he murmurs, approval warming his voice. “Good girl.”
His fingers explore me, circling, teasing, then dipping inside just enough to make me arch against his hand. I gasp as his thumb finds my clit, applying just the right pressure to make my hips buck involuntarily.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m begging for.
His eyes are on me as he slides one finger inside me, then another, stretching me slowly. His eyes darken as I respond tohis touch, as if memorizing every reaction, learning exactly how to play with my body. When his fingers curl forward, they stroke a spot that makes me cry out. His smile turns feral.
“There it is,” he says softly, continuing the motion until I’m trembling beneath him. “I want you desperate before I take you.”
With one swift move, he pulls my pants and underwear down my legs, not bothering to remove them completely, but leaving them tangled around one ankle. The partial restraint feels deliberate, another way of controlling my movement. He stands long enough to unbuckle his belt and free himself from his pants, pushing them down just enough for what’s needed. The way his shirt pulls across his torso reveals the outline of serious muscle definition, abs and chest carved by military workouts.
The sight of him, fully clothed but for his cock, sends a fresh wave of heat through me. My breath catches at his size, intimidating and thrilling at once. I’ve never been with anyone so physically imposing, the difference between our bodies stark and arousing. This isn’t a romantic encounter. It’s primal.
By the time he positions himself between my thighs, I’m panting, clutching at his shoulders. No pride or hesitation. He pauses only briefly to look into my eyes, silently asking one final question. I answer by wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
When he slowly pushes inside me, the invasion is overwhelming. I cry out, from pleasure, from the rightness of it, from the sheer intensity of being filled so fully, stretching me more than I thought possible. Cole buries his face in my neck, a wild groan tearing from his throat.
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers, the words so quiet I almost miss them beneath the sound of our ragged breathing.
He sets a brutal rhythm, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. My body responds with a hunger that matches his, meeting him motion for motion. One of his hands findsmy throat, fingers applying pressure on either side. The gentle constriction narrows my world to pinpoints of sensation, his body inside mine, the deliberate pressure cutting off just enough blood flow to make my head swim with pleasure. The trust required in this moment is staggering, and the realization that I’m giving it to him without hesitation is even more so.
Our bodies move together with desperate synchronicity, as if we’ve done this a thousand times before, as if we were made for this exact moment. Each thrust drives me higher, closer to an edge I’ve never approached so quickly. Cole’s eyes never leave mine, holding me captive in his gaze as surely as his body pins mine to the couch.
“Say it again,” he commands, his voice tight with restraint. “Tell me who you belong to now.”
“You,” I gasp, the admission torn from somewhere deep inside.
His fingers press more deliberately into the sides of my neck, applying firm, calculated pressure that makes the edges of my vision blur. He carefully controls the restriction, enough to send me floating into a heightened state where every sensation multiplies tenfold.
“Tap my arm twice if it’s too much,” he instructs, his voice thick with desire but eyes sharp with attention.
Instead of tapping, I arch deeper into his grip, surrendering completely to the intoxicating combination of pleasure and controlled danger. The way he watches my face while controlling both my breath and my pleasure speaks to something wild in me, a need I never knew existed until this moment.
“Mine to protect,” he growls against my ear, his breath hot and damp. “Mine to keep safe. Mine to pleasure.”
Something about the possessive claim, the absolute certainty in his voice, sends me spiraling over the edge. I come beneathhim, waves of pleasure crashing through me with shocking intensity, my body clenching around his in pulsing waves.
Cole follows seconds later, his powerful body tensing above mine, his control finally breaking with a rumble deep in his chest. His fingers release from my throat but dig into my sides, marking me, claiming me as the last of his restraint vanishes. Stars prickle my eyes as blood flow returns to my head.
In the aftermath, Cole doesn’t immediately withdraw. He shifts his weight to avoid crushing me, but maintains physical contact. One hand gently tracing along my jaw before pressing his forehead to mine, his ragged breathing gradually steading.
I sit up, suddenly aware of my disheveled state, the lingering lightheadedness from the breath play making my movements unsteady. His hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Stay still for a minute,” he instructs, his tone gentle but unmistakably a command. “Let your body calm down first.” His fingers move to my neck, gently massaging the spots where he’d applied pressure. “Deep breaths. Nice and slow. That’s it.”
The care in his attention is as intimate as what came before it, his eyes scanning my face with careful assessment. “How do you feel? Any dizziness?”
The softness of his voice contrasts with the intensity of moments before, but somehow it feels like a continuation of the same control rather than a contradiction.
“Is this how you treat all your witnesses?” The question comes out as a weak attempt at humor, my voice still unsteady.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Only the ones who survive.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face with surprising tenderness. “Drink this.” He reaches for a water bottle on the side table, uncapping it before handing it to me.
I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until the cool water touches my lips. He watches with satisfaction as I drain half thebottle, his hand still stroking my hair in a rhythmic, soothing motion.
Outside, the wind picks up, rattling the cabin windows. The sound reminds me of how isolated we are, how cut off from the world I know. How dependent I am on this man whose body was just joined with mine.
