We were randomly chatting about all sorts of things when we arrived at the Coq d’Or. The wedding, my house, general plans to spend a day at the beach. But all talk stopped the moment we stepped through the door and saw all three of the knights sitting right there at the bar, just as pretty as you please, as if Cole and Evan hadn’t caused me a shitload of grief—not to mention completely pissing me off.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” I murmured, my voice low.
I stalked across the room, then grabbed Cole’s glass. He looked up at me, his expression at first confused and then conciliatory.
“Kat,” he began, but I didn’t let him finish.
Instead, I tossed the drink in his face, drenching his face and his shirt in the bar’s finest whiskey.
fifteen
“And that’s our cue to leave,” Sloane said, taking Evan and Tyler each by the arm.
“You guys stay,” Cole growled as he mopped his face with a cocktail napkin and grabbed my arm with his free hand. “We’re going.”
I jerked free as he steered me toward the exit, then came to a dead stop right outside the door. “Goddammit, Cole, what the hell? You promised you’d tell me the plan. And then you up and move my dad without even contacting me? Do you have any idea how livid I am?”
Around us, the after-work crowd was moving into and out of the bar, all of them shooting us wary glances as they passed by.
“Shit,” he said, taking my arm again. And this time, when I tried to pull free, he held fast.
The ladies’ room was just down the hall, and he slammed the door open, then practically tossed me inside.
“What the—” I began, then snapped my mouth shut when he followed me in.
A twenty-something woman who looked like she was fresh out of college gaped at him, then edged carefully around us to escape.
“In,” he said, stalking toward me so that I had no choice but to either back the rest of the way into the ornate restroom or get run over by him.
I entered.
The restroom at The Drake is as elegant as they come, with a long marble counter with multiple seats to give the women plenty of space to take care of both primping and gossiping. But what really makes it exceptional is that every stall is fully decked out as a little room, complete with toilet, vanity, mirror, sink, and even a little upholstered stool to sit on. Moreover, the door is floor to ceiling, giving a woman complete privacy.
Cole pushed open the door to the first vacant stall, then dragged me inside.
“Are you crazy?” I whispered as he locked the door behind us.
He didn’t answer the question. Instead he grabbed me by the waist, picked me up, and sat me on the vanity. I gasped, for the first time truly realizing just how much he had on me in terms of weight, size, and strength.
“Dammit, Cole,” I said, but I’d deflated a little bit.
He shoved my knees apart and stepped between them so that he was pressed up against the vanity and right in my personal space.
“You threw a drink on me,” he said, his voice so low and so firm that I knew he was fighting to control his temper.
“You deserved it.”
“Why did you come to me about your dad?”
“You know why,” I snapped. “Because I thought you could help.”
“And just what the goddamn hell do you think it is that I’m doing?”
“You can’t just muscle in and—”
“All or nothing, Catalina,” he said.
“Bullshit. He’s my dad; you can’t cut me out of the scenario, especially not when you said you’d keep me in the loop. You told me I’m a submissive, and maybe you’re right. But that’s in bed, Cole. Not out here. Not in the world.”
I watched his face, saw the hard lines and angles tighten and his eyes narrow as he focused on me. “I’m not interested in taking away your autonomy,” he said. “But I don’t do anything halfway, and I’m not going to spend time trying to second-guess what the rules of engagement are. I already know the rules.”
“Is that a fact? What are they?”
“Mine,” he said, and I could tell from the heat in his eyes that it wasn’t just the rules about my dad that we were talking about.
I licked my lips, trying to stay on track. “Dammit, Cole—”
“Take off your clothes.”
I froze. A little shocked and—damn me—a lot turned on. “The hell I will.”
He took the hem of my T-shirt in his hands and pulled it up, revealing my bra. “Take it off, or I will.”
I felt my sex tighten and my skin go hot. “Do it, then,” I said.
He did, yanking the shirt up, forcing my arms to follow, then tossing it on the floor near the door. He reached down and cupped my sex through my jeans. I was breathing hard, so turned on I was surprised my jeans weren’t soaked.
“Will you take off the bra, or should I just rip it off?”
I reached back and undid the clasp, then pulled it off and tossed it on top of the shirt. “What are you doing?”
“Exactly what I want,” he said as he unfastened the button on my jeans then eased the zipper down. “My rules.” He slid his hand inside the jeans and under my panties, then eased one finger inside me, his smug grin widening when he found me not just wet, but drenched. “Mine. Say it, Kat.”
“Yours,” I said, finding it hard to make a sound, much less form words.
“And once you’re naked, I’m going to fuck you. So hard it makes you scream, and everyone in here will know exactly what we’re doing.”
“Cole, no.” But the words were for propriety only, and he damn well knew it. I was too turned on by what he said, and no matter what protests I might form into words, my body told the truth. And the way my sex throbbed and tightened around his finger in anticipation of what he’d described was the most eloquent admission of all.
He didn’t bother to argue. He just bent down and tugged off my shoes, then eased my jeans over my hips until they were in a heap on the floor as well. He left my panties on, though, then pulled me off the counter and turned me around so that I was standing up and facing the mirror.
I saw myself there, my hands pressed flat on the vanity, my breasts full and heavy, my nipples dark with arousal. My face was flush, my eyes a little glassy. And Cole loomed behind me, still fully dressed, all power and control and pure masculine heat.
I heard the musical sound of his zipper, then the press of his cock against my ass. “Spread your legs, baby,” he said, but I already had. I wanted this—I might have started out angry, but Cole had turned it all around on me, and now the only thing I wanted was to feel him inside me. The only thing I needed was to do as he said—to let myself go and just feel.
He made a low noise of satisfaction, then reached down and stroked me through my panties. “Oh, yes,” he said. “You’re ready.”
“Yes,” I whispered, then gasped as he yanked the thin strip of satin to one side. “Bend over. That’s right,” he said, and I felt the insistent press of his cock against me, and then the sweet, hard push as he thrust inside.
His hands were on my hips, and as he moved forward, he pulled me back. He filled me completely, and the look on his face—such passion, such intensity—made me almost come right there.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” I murmured, my voice low.
I stalked across the room, then grabbed Cole’s glass. He looked up at me, his expression at first confused and then conciliatory.
“Kat,” he began, but I didn’t let him finish.
Instead, I tossed the drink in his face, drenching his face and his shirt in the bar’s finest whiskey.
fifteen
“And that’s our cue to leave,” Sloane said, taking Evan and Tyler each by the arm.
“You guys stay,” Cole growled as he mopped his face with a cocktail napkin and grabbed my arm with his free hand. “We’re going.”
I jerked free as he steered me toward the exit, then came to a dead stop right outside the door. “Goddammit, Cole, what the hell? You promised you’d tell me the plan. And then you up and move my dad without even contacting me? Do you have any idea how livid I am?”
Around us, the after-work crowd was moving into and out of the bar, all of them shooting us wary glances as they passed by.
“Shit,” he said, taking my arm again. And this time, when I tried to pull free, he held fast.
The ladies’ room was just down the hall, and he slammed the door open, then practically tossed me inside.
“What the—” I began, then snapped my mouth shut when he followed me in.
A twenty-something woman who looked like she was fresh out of college gaped at him, then edged carefully around us to escape.
“In,” he said, stalking toward me so that I had no choice but to either back the rest of the way into the ornate restroom or get run over by him.
I entered.
The restroom at The Drake is as elegant as they come, with a long marble counter with multiple seats to give the women plenty of space to take care of both primping and gossiping. But what really makes it exceptional is that every stall is fully decked out as a little room, complete with toilet, vanity, mirror, sink, and even a little upholstered stool to sit on. Moreover, the door is floor to ceiling, giving a woman complete privacy.
Cole pushed open the door to the first vacant stall, then dragged me inside.
“Are you crazy?” I whispered as he locked the door behind us.
He didn’t answer the question. Instead he grabbed me by the waist, picked me up, and sat me on the vanity. I gasped, for the first time truly realizing just how much he had on me in terms of weight, size, and strength.
“Dammit, Cole,” I said, but I’d deflated a little bit.
He shoved my knees apart and stepped between them so that he was pressed up against the vanity and right in my personal space.
“You threw a drink on me,” he said, his voice so low and so firm that I knew he was fighting to control his temper.
“You deserved it.”
“Why did you come to me about your dad?”
“You know why,” I snapped. “Because I thought you could help.”
“And just what the goddamn hell do you think it is that I’m doing?”
“You can’t just muscle in and—”
“All or nothing, Catalina,” he said.
“Bullshit. He’s my dad; you can’t cut me out of the scenario, especially not when you said you’d keep me in the loop. You told me I’m a submissive, and maybe you’re right. But that’s in bed, Cole. Not out here. Not in the world.”
I watched his face, saw the hard lines and angles tighten and his eyes narrow as he focused on me. “I’m not interested in taking away your autonomy,” he said. “But I don’t do anything halfway, and I’m not going to spend time trying to second-guess what the rules of engagement are. I already know the rules.”
“Is that a fact? What are they?”
“Mine,” he said, and I could tell from the heat in his eyes that it wasn’t just the rules about my dad that we were talking about.
I licked my lips, trying to stay on track. “Dammit, Cole—”
“Take off your clothes.”
I froze. A little shocked and—damn me—a lot turned on. “The hell I will.”
He took the hem of my T-shirt in his hands and pulled it up, revealing my bra. “Take it off, or I will.”
I felt my sex tighten and my skin go hot. “Do it, then,” I said.
He did, yanking the shirt up, forcing my arms to follow, then tossing it on the floor near the door. He reached down and cupped my sex through my jeans. I was breathing hard, so turned on I was surprised my jeans weren’t soaked.
“Will you take off the bra, or should I just rip it off?”
I reached back and undid the clasp, then pulled it off and tossed it on top of the shirt. “What are you doing?”
“Exactly what I want,” he said as he unfastened the button on my jeans then eased the zipper down. “My rules.” He slid his hand inside the jeans and under my panties, then eased one finger inside me, his smug grin widening when he found me not just wet, but drenched. “Mine. Say it, Kat.”
“Yours,” I said, finding it hard to make a sound, much less form words.
“And once you’re naked, I’m going to fuck you. So hard it makes you scream, and everyone in here will know exactly what we’re doing.”
“Cole, no.” But the words were for propriety only, and he damn well knew it. I was too turned on by what he said, and no matter what protests I might form into words, my body told the truth. And the way my sex throbbed and tightened around his finger in anticipation of what he’d described was the most eloquent admission of all.
He didn’t bother to argue. He just bent down and tugged off my shoes, then eased my jeans over my hips until they were in a heap on the floor as well. He left my panties on, though, then pulled me off the counter and turned me around so that I was standing up and facing the mirror.
I saw myself there, my hands pressed flat on the vanity, my breasts full and heavy, my nipples dark with arousal. My face was flush, my eyes a little glassy. And Cole loomed behind me, still fully dressed, all power and control and pure masculine heat.
I heard the musical sound of his zipper, then the press of his cock against my ass. “Spread your legs, baby,” he said, but I already had. I wanted this—I might have started out angry, but Cole had turned it all around on me, and now the only thing I wanted was to feel him inside me. The only thing I needed was to do as he said—to let myself go and just feel.
He made a low noise of satisfaction, then reached down and stroked me through my panties. “Oh, yes,” he said. “You’re ready.”
“Yes,” I whispered, then gasped as he yanked the thin strip of satin to one side. “Bend over. That’s right,” he said, and I felt the insistent press of his cock against me, and then the sweet, hard push as he thrust inside.
His hands were on my hips, and as he moved forward, he pulled me back. He filled me completely, and the look on his face—such passion, such intensity—made me almost come right there.
