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«Copyright © 2014 J. Kenner The right of J. Kenner to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the ...»

-- [ Page 25 ] --

Pinched you. Hurt you. And then at your house I almost ripped your hair out, and then I fucking made you cry. I was so wrapped up in what I wanted, what I needed—in my own fucking need to just shoot my goddamn load— that I didn’t even realize I was hurting you. Choking you. Jesus, Kat, do you know how much it killed me to see you like that? Sprawled on the floor, tears streaming down your face? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself?” Now I really was crying, and I brushed the tears away and then stood in front of him. I pressed my hands to the sides of his face, then brushed the softest of kisses over his lips. “For a man who is so smart—who has made so much of himself—you’re a damn idiot, Cole August.” “Catalina...” I pressed my finger to his lips. “My turn,” I said, then brushed away a fresh spill of tears. “Forced me in the ladies’ room? Are you kidding me? I was so hot I’m almost embarrassed to admit it. That was an incredible moment, Cole, don’t you get that? Naughty and sensual, and just public enough to be a bad girl turn-on. I mean, come on. It was like acting out a fantasy, and it was amazing.” He started to speak, but I just shook my head. “No. Not finished. Did you mention pinching me? Did you say that it hurt? Well, guess what, mister, I have a secret to tell you.” I pressed a hand to his shoulder for balance as I leaned in close to his ear. I felt a tremor go through him, and a corresponding wash of heat shot through me, brought on by nothing more than a simple touch and our proximity.

“It did hurt,” I said, as his body tensed beneath my hand. “It hurt, and then it felt amazing, and dammit, Cole, it made me so fucking wet. You hurt me? Maybe you did, but I loved it. Hurts so good, right? Isn’t that what they say? That’s how you made me feel.” “Kat. Oh, baby.” I eased back so that I could face him again. “You keep interrupting me. Stop that.” I pointed to the couch.

“Sit. Before we hit an air pocket or get lectured by Jana for not wearing our seat belts.” He sat, and to my relief I saw that some of the pain on his face had been replaced by humor.

I perched on the table in front of him, my eyes trained on his face.

“Made me cry, you said?

If I remember right, I was having one hell of a good time getting you off. I liked it, Cole. I was into it. I was into you.” I knelt in front of him then gently pushed his knees apart so that I could ease in closer.

Very deliberately, I moved my gaze from his crotch to his eyes, and as I did, I reached out and pressed my hand over his cock, then felt it stir beneath my palm.

“I wanted to taste you, to suck you off, to take you in as deep as I could because it turns me on to know that I’m giving you pleasure.” I stroked him as his erection hardened under my touch and with my words. “But guess what? There’s this whole physiology thing working there, too, and let’s see you try to deep-throat a cock as impressive as yours and not have tears prick your eyes.” A flicker of a grin touched his mouth. “I’d rather not.” “Yeah, well, you owe me.

I was damn close to taking you all the way, and you bolted on me, you bastard.

And as for yanking my hair,” I continued before he could interrupt, “yeah, that hurt.

You yanked, I wasn’t expecting it, and it hurt.” I saw him flinch as if I’d slapped him.

“BFD, Cole. Big. Fucking.

Deal. So you accidentally yanked my hair. One of these days you’ll probably roll over in bed and whack me with your elbow and I’ll have a black eye for a week. It’s not like you lost your temper and beat me to a pulp.” “What if I had?” “You didn’t, and you wouldn’t. You’re not capable of that. Of losing it, sure. But you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” “Kat, you don’t understand.” “The hell I don’t. What have I just been telling you?

There was no reason to go, but you did. Hell, you ran.

And that was what hurt me, Cole. Not the rest of it.” He looked away, and I bit back a curse.

“God, you’re thickheaded.

You say I don’t understand, but you’re wrong. Don’t you get it? You’ve showed me a new side of myself, and I love it. I’m not scared of what you’ll show me about yourself.” I reached for his hand. “The truth is, I understand more than you think.” “Bullshit.” “You need pain,” I said softly. “You need to inflict it.

Turns out I rather like it.

Seems to me like we fit together nicely. A perfect set.

Like salt and pepper. It’s what I should have told you last night in the house, but I didn’t know how to say it. I want it, Cole. When I said I wanted you to get everything you need from me, that’s what I meant. And I’m not scared that you’ll go too far.

Because you can’t. You won’t.” His eyes flicked to mine, but he said nothing. Please, I thought. Please let me be getting through that damn thick skull.





“You think you don’t have control, but I’m telling you that you do. Everyone loses it occasionally. Hell, you’ve got an edge up because you’ve worked at it for so long.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, then dragged them back over his scalp.

Then he just looked at me while I sat there, my stomach twisting in anticipation of his answer. “How do you do it?” he finally asked.

“What?” “Make me believe that maybe I’m not as fucked up as I think I am.” I lifted a shoulder. “So what if you are? At least we won’t be bored.” He almost laughed, and I felt a swell of relief that maybe—just maybe—the storm had passed.

“Seriously, Cole. Who isn’t fucked up? I think we all are. I sure as hell am. Maybe the trick is to make your fucked-up-edness work for you. For us.” He said nothing.

“Cole. Please.” I closed my eyes and took a breath, debating what I wanted to say, knowing I was showing more of my heart than was smart or careful. But maybe around Cole I didn’t have to be either. Maybe I just had to let him know how I felt.

“I need you,” I said simply. “I thought at first that I just wanted you. That you were an itch I had to scratch so that I could get you out of my system. But it’s more than that, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I honestly don’t know if I could survive it.” I drew in a breath. “And right now, I really need you to say something.” I sat frozen, praying he would do just that, but also terrified of the words he might say. After a moment, he stood up, then crossed to the far side of the cabin. He stood with his hand on one of the armchairs, his back toward me, his head turned in a way that made me think he was looking out the window at the world spread wide beneath us.

“I’ve always been able to get by,” he began, his voice low but firm. “Slide in with the gangs. Mingle with students, with professionals, with artists, with anyone. I was able to easily pick up the way men with money talk and walk and act and behave. I blend, and it’s easy, and I make it look good.” He turned then to face me.

“But at the core, I’m just one more motherfucking gangbanger.” “Bullshit,” I said, the response immediate and firm.

He shook his head. “No, it’s true. It’s true and I’m not ashamed of it. It is what it is, you know?” “It’s not. You got out of that life.” “Fuck yeah, I did. I got out because I’m smart. And I became successful because not only am I smart but I made the right friends.” “And because you three cheated a little,” I said, and made him laugh.

“There is that.” He took a deep breath. “I can put paint on a canvas in a way that sucks people in. That makes them feel right here,” he said, thumping his chest over his heart.

I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know where he was going with this, and I was terrified of knocking him off track. So I simply sat, breathing in his words, and silently praying that when he finished speaking, the message would be something I wanted to hear.

“I can paint love and pain and honor and longing and any goddamn emotion you want to name. But saying it?

Showing it? I’m not good at that, baby.” My heart twisted with the realization that all of those beautiful words had been leading back to me.

“I don’t need eloquence, Cole. I just need you.” He nodded, as if in understanding. “Here’s the bottom line. I’m fucked up, Kat. But you’re fucked up, too.” I smirked. “Told you.” “So you did. So maybe instead of fighting this thing between us, I should embrace it.” He held out his hand, silently calling me to him.

I went, then folded myself into his arms, which was just where I wanted to be.

He kissed my head, then murmured, “Maybe you’re right,” he repeated. “Maybe we should just be fucked up together.” I tilted my head up to smile at him, feeling lighter than I had in hours. “I told you I was smart.” “And ballsy, too. If we hadn’t already been in the air, I would have kicked you off this plane.” “I still don’t know why you’re on this plane,” I admitted, letting him draw me with him back to the couch.

He sat, then pulled me down to straddle him. As I did, a wash of happiness came over me, so intense it seemed to sweep away all the pain and fear I’d been feeling.

I’d come to the plane intending to get Cole back.

And dammit, that’s just what I’d done.

I hooked my hands around his neck and leaned back so that I could see his face.

“Even when you were scared and angry, you still thought of me. You’re going to Los Angeles because of me.

Because of my dad.” “Yes,” he said as he took his finger and slowly traced my lower lip. “I can’t not think of you, Kat. Even if you hadn’t come to me—even if I’d never touched you again —you would still fill my days and my nights and my imagination. I’d sketch you if I couldn’t have you, and I would mourn the loss of you in my arms.” I blinked, and a tear trickled down my cheek.

He brushed it away. “I need you now, Kat. Here and now and hard. Because I need to know that you’re here and that you’re real—and that you’re really mine.” “You know I am,” I said, my voice breathy because of all the emotion trapped in my throat. I leaned forward and our mouths collided, teeth banging, tongues warring. I felt overwhelmed, taken by him—and damned if I wasn’t taking right back.

His hand was inside my shirt and mine fumbled at his zipper. I have no idea how he managed it, but somehow my shirt and bra ended up on the floor, and I was straddling him, my hand inside his pants, his erection hot and hard under my hand.

“Christ, I need to be inside you,” he said, as he cupped his hand over my sex, stroking me through my jeans as if we were two horny teenagers in the backseat of a car.

“I want you in my mouth,” I said.

“No.” He shifted his hands so that he was gripping my hips, then yanked my jeans down. “I’m going to fuck you, Kat. I need to be inside you. I need to feel you tight around me.” I felt my body clench in time with his words, and my breath came shallow and hard. “Whatever you want,” I said, my body melting under the knowledge that however he wanted me, I would happily submit. “Whatever you need.” Frantically, I struggled to get out of my jeans, then my panties, until I was naked and on his lap, my fingers fumbling at his waistband as I tried to shove his jeans down.

They didn’t come all the way off, but once his cock was free, I didn’t give a flying fuck about his jeans—I just wanted him. Inside me.

Hot and hard and thick. And I held on to his shoulders, straddling him, reaching down to find his cock and position the thick head at my center.

“Now,” he said, gripping my hips and pushing me down, hard and fast, so that he filled me completely. Pain and pleasure shot through me, red streaks brought on by the violence of the motion. The wonderful, desperate intensity of it that had me crying out, “Yes, oh, god, Cole, yes!” My words echoed in the small cabin, and as the sound surrounded us, my eyes went wide. I’d forgotten where we were, and I saw the twitch of his mouth when he realized what I was thinking. And then, very slowly and deliberately, he reached up and pressed the privacy button near the lightswitch on the ceiling.

“She heard that,” I whispered.

“Does it bother you?” he asked, as he lowered his hand to tease my clit. “Does it bother you if she knows that I’m fucking you? That I’m deep inside you? That you’re naked and hot and that I’m going to make you scream when you come?” “No.” I could barely force the word out from the pleasure his words and his touch were shooting through me. “No,” I repeated. And then, because I wanted him to know just how much I meant it, I leaned forward and hooked my arms around his neck, putting my body at an angle and lifting my ass off his legs as I impaled myself over and over in a sensual rhythm that made both of us just a little crazy.

“Spank me,” I said, and felt his cock harden inside me with the whisper of my words. “Make my ass red, Cole. I want to feel the sting of your hand, even after you’re done with me. Spank me because the thought that Jana knows what we’re doing makes me so damn wet.



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