Page 50 of Coldhearted King

He inches his hand down and gathers up my dress, dragging it up my legs and bunching it in his hand until it’s high enough that he can slide his fingers underneath it and into the tiny scrap of lace that makes up my thong.

He pulls back to watch my face as he makes contact with my clit, already swollen and pulsing, waiting for his touch.

I gasp and shudder as he rolls his thumb over it, and I know it won’t be long until I’m coming apart under his touch. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. And considering how blown his pupils are—the blue of his irises nothing but a thin ring around the black—he doesn’t mind at all that I’m already hovering on the edge.

One long finger thrusts into me and I almost cry out, but thankfully he covers my mouth with his own, muffling the desperate sound.

His fingers and thumb move in tandem, and my hips roll into the movement as I race to find my release. Sparks shimmer behind my closed lids and I’m so close—

“Cole?” a female voice calls from down the hallway. “Cole, are you down here? One of the servers told me he saw you come this way.”

I freeze, blinking up at Cole. Anger rolls off him in icy waves, and his hand slows but doesn’t stop. I’m caught, hanging on the edge. If he speeds up his movements, it will fling me over. Considering the woman calling out to Cole is coming closer, I’m not sure I want to be flung right now.

The last thing I need is some stranger watching me orgasm on my employer’s fingers.

“Cole? I really have to talk to you about my father.” The voice is closer now.

For the briefest moment, Cole works his fingers faster and I think he’s going to do it. I think he’s going to make me come anyway. My body tightens in involuntary pleasure, squeezing his fingers, and I widen my eyes, shaking my head.

He growls but pulls his fingers from me, reaching up and smearing them over my lips before taking my mouth in another fierce kiss.

“A little appetizer for later,” he mutters into my ear.

Then he’s stepping back, and I’m frantically straightening my dress, trying to put myself back together.

Apart from the dark dilation of his eyes and the flush on the arches of his cheekbones, he looks just as put together as before, although I notice his fingers still glisten with my arousal. He hasn’t wiped them off—probably unwilling to smear bodily fluids onto his expensive suit or my dress.

It’s too late to say anything, though, because he tugs me out of the alcove, and we come face to face with Jessica.

She smiles, but it stops short of her eyes. “There you are. I need to talk to you about something I overheard my father discussing.”

She can’t be oblivious to what she interrupted, and I should be alarmed that any mention of what Cole and I were doing might get out, but at the moment I’m just frustrated and horny. I don’t know this woman, but right now, I’m pretty sure I actively dislike her.

“I’m not really interested in talking business right now, Jessica,” Cole says. “Can it wait until we’re back in New York?”

She lives in New York too?

“Oh, I suppose so,” she says. I wonder if it was all just an excuse to hunt down Cole and interrupt what he was doing with me. They might not have had a relationship, but it feels like she wishes they did, regardless of the man she left at the table.

“Let’s get back then,” Cole says, gesturing for Jessica to lead the way.

She gives me a look that rakes over me as if it has claws of its own before heading back the way we’d come. With her back turned, Cole takes the opportunity to run his tongue over the fingers he just had inside me, holding my gaze the whole time. “Who needs dessert?”

My stomach swoops. Even more so when he takes my hand and leads me back to the main room.

Interruption aside, I’ve just had a small taste of what I’m in for tonight.

And I think I might be in trouble.

CHAPTERTWENTY

COLE

Iwait for as long as I can—until I’ve bid on, and won, a weekend in Aspen—and then I get us out of there. I messaged our driver to tell him to meet us out the front, and he’s waiting when we come out. I glance at Delilah out of the corner of my eye. Her cheeks are beautifully flushed, and it’s not the heat that’s causing it. She knows exactly what will happen as soon as we’re in the car.

After getting her so close to orgasm earlier, she’s probably been feeling every bit as frustrated as I have.

Fucking Jessica. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I’ll have to talk to her when we get back to New York. I’ve dismissed the signs I’ve noticed recently—the reluctance to leave after we’ve finished fucking, the attempts to make me jealous. Either she’s started to get attached or she has some other ulterior motive. I need to find out which it is and address it either way.

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