Page 71 of A Photo Finish
His throat bobs, and I think his eyes might sting, just like mine, as he nods back at me. “I won’t.”
“Good. Now make me come again.”
He moves hard and fast in me, gripping my hips and manhandling my body in the most dominating way. My thighs slap against his as he lifts me and slams me down on his length over and over again.
Perspiration dampens his chest, and his cheeks are ruddy when he puffs out, “Let me see you rub that clit, Violet. Come on my cock.”
My hand darts off his shoulder as I lean back a little. I think his words might be enough to push me over the edge, and all it takes is a few slick swipes with my fingers to have me hitting that crescendo again. Heat pools at the base of my spine as my orgasm roars to life.
“Cole!” I cry out just as that spot below my hipbones aches and the arches of my feet cramp up.
I collapse forward onto his chest, damp and spent, and completely at his mercy as he pumps into me a last few times, hitting every tender spot as he does.
And with one powerful thrust, he freezes.
He clamps his arms around me, caging me in as he holds on for dear life and pours himself into me.
Chest to chest.
Heart to heart.
* * *
A hot bathhas never felt so good. Partly because my body is gloriously sore from the best sex of my life, and partly because I’m sitting across from the most deliciously sexy man I’ve ever known.
After our time in the living room, we were both a sticky mess. Boneless, breathless, sticky messes. I didn’t know what to say after sex like that, but I knew his stump was rubbed and sore from the spare prosthetic, so I got up and ran us a bath.
This bathroom has the best deep claw-foot tub. I thought it was big before, but looking at Cole sitting at the other end, it doesn’t look so spacious anymore.
Steam wafts up from between us. It smells like eucalyptus from the Epsom salts, which has the added benefit of being good for soreness—and for perfectly clear bath water.
And yeah, I can’t stop sneaking peeks at the monster between his legs.
Cole’s hands are wrapped around my calves as they rest across his thighs, and his head is tipped back against the tub, eyes closed. I am positively bursting with questions, but I also can’t stop admiring his body. It’s like a piece of art. A testament to long hours spent healing, adapting, and surviving. Living proof of his strength and resilience.
A goddamned treat.
My eyes wander over his leg, the one that ends just below the knee. The angry red scar at the end of the stump, the puckered skin all pulled together to close off the leg they couldn’t save. But mostly I stare at his huge dick. In fact, I have a hard time looking away from it.
Yeah, I’m perving hard, and I don’t even feel bad. The man looks like a well-hung Ken doll and he’s somehow magically intome.A scrappy ranch rat from a small cowboy town. Scrawny little Violet Eaton.
“Are you sure you haven’t had sex in years?” I blurt out, because I can’t reconcile this hot, rich, successful older man being interested in me or keeping it in his pants foryears.
He doesn’t look up, but I see one cheek quirk and feel his thumb rub in a circle on my calf.
“I knew you had questions. It’s like I could hear the gears in your head turning.”
“I mean,come on. Look at you. You really mean to tell me you haven’t had sex since—” Ugh. I don’t even want to say her name. I’m jealous, and it’s so lame. “Since what’s-her-face took off?”
His shoulders shake on a silent laugh, but he still doesn’t open his eyes. “There were a few off the start. Random encounters with a stranger where I wouldn’t have to take my clothes all the way off. Like just bent her over and—”
“Okay. I’ve got the gist.”
He chuckles again and peeks one eye open at me and catches me nervously chewing on my lip. He knows I’m jealous, but he doesn’t call me on it; he just says, “All that taught me is that I don’t like casual sex.”
“Okay . . . but years? You could have anyone you want.”
He grunts. Like he doesn’t quite agree with my assessment. “Maybe I don’t want just anyone. I think I like being in a relationship. It’s probably why I rushed into an engagement before. But she didn’t want me; she wanted the idea of me. The status.” He sighs and sits up straighter. “You . . . ”
