Taking a deep breath, caught up in the pleasure, she brought her other hand up. Touched her other breast. Squeezed its nipple. And couldn’t stop the small moan from escaping her lips as she arched off the bed.

She wondered what she looked like to him, wondered if he was watching her as intently as she imagined. She listened carefully, tried to distinguish a groan or a shift in his breathing pattern, anything that said he was half as aroused as she was. But there was nothing, only silence from him, as if he’d somehow left the room.

“Cole?” she called out, more uncertain than she could ever remember being.

“I’m here.” It was more growl than groan, more animal than human, and it reassured her on a basic level. He was enjoying what she was doing, was as into it as she was.

Taking a deep breath, fighting her inhibitions with each movement of her fingers, she trailed a hand down her stomach. Lingered at her abdomen, smoothing, touching, enjoying the feel of soft skin sliding over softer skin. Ran her hand back up her body, following the path Cole had taken earlier. And slipped a finger into her mouth and sucked gently.

There was a harshly indrawn breath, the sound of knuckles cracking. And she grinned, realizing for the first time the power she wielded in this game.

Relaxing into the bed, letting it take her weight a little more, she ran her finger over her bottom lip. Her top lip. Slipped it into her mouth again to rewet it, and then lowered it to her breast.

She stroked the wetness onto one tight, hard nipple, moaning as the cold air hit it and made it even harder. Brought her finger up to her mouth and sucked again. Brought it to her other breast and repeated the motions. Again and again until her entire body was quivering, until her cl*t was begging to be touched. Until Cole’s harsh breathing echoed in the room.

Only then, when she could feel the heat radiating off his body and hear the insane need in every breath he pulled into shuddering lungs, only then did she move her hand where she’d wanted it to go all along.

Though every nerve ending in her body was screaming at her to hurry, begging her to take herself over the edge, she took it slow. Bending her knees, she let them fall wide so that Cole could see exactly what he was missing with his power games.

She teased her clit, let her thumb glance over it a couple times without ever delivering the firm caress she needed to fly. Then moving lower, she ran a finger over her slit, relishing the dampness waiting for her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this wet, this turned on. She knew only that she wasn’t ready for it to end, wasn’t ready to go over the cliff if she couldn’t take Cole with her.

His breathing was harsher, faster, but still he made no move to touch her. Part of her wanted to rip off the stupid blindfold, to gaze at him in the middle of passion. But the game wasn’t over—she was no more done with him than he was with her.

Spreading her legs even wider, relishing the pleasure that came not just from her hand but from the knowledge that she was making Cole suffer as she had, Genevieve thrust two fingers inside of herself at the same moment she bent and swiped her tongue over her breast.

“Fuck!” The curse was low and vicious and more than a little slurred, as if Cole was drunk on the mere sight of her approaching orgasm.

He cleared his throat, said, “Do that again.”

She took a page from his book and asked innocently, “Do what again?” even though she knew exactly what he was asking for.

“Don’t f**k with me!” It was an explosion of sound and then he was there, straddling her hips, his arousal firm against her stomach.

“You’ve been singing some variation of that line all night, Cole. I thought I was just giving you what you wanted. I sure as hell was giving one of us what we wanted.”

“Do it again.” His voice was lower, guttural. Knowing he was watching, suddenly loving the attention—and the heady rush of power she got from knowing he was right there with her—she ran her tongue over the slope of her breast a second time.

Paused and whispered, “I wish it was you.”

Cole cursed, long and violently, though he slowly untangled himself from where she lay on the bed. “Finish it.”

“I can’t,” she said, tugging against the hand that held her wrist.

“You have to. I have to see—” His voice broke, and she delighted in getting a little of her own back. He might be the one with the blindfold and bag of tricks, but she had as much power over him as he had over her.

It was a thrilling, beautiful feeling. One that grew as he reluctantly let go of her wrist. She almost whimpered at the loss of his touch, would have if she hadn’t felt the pressure of his gaze. He was staring at her, geared up and desperate. She didn’t need her eyes to tell her that—she could smell the arousal rolling off him. Hot and salty and so sexy she wanted nothing more than to immerse herself in him.

Restless, aching, she was done with the preliminaries and nearly desperate for relief. Moving her hands once again to her pussy, she thrust two fingers inside of herself as she used her other hand to play with her clit.

It felt so good, especially as she imagined they were Cole’s hands on her. Cole’s fingers inside of her, searching for her G-spot. Finding it. Stroking it as he pinched her cl*t with his strong, elegant fingers. Cole, with his dark eyes and strong muscles, bending to her. Flicking her cl*t with his tongue, taking it in his mouth, playing with it.

Sweat rolled between her br**sts and she couldn’t hold back the moan. Her h*ps arched, moving restlessly as release beckoned. Cole, she reminded herself as she applied firmer pressure. Cole was inside her, f**king her, having her. Cole—

She whimpered as her body shot to the edge of the cliff. Began to teeter over. One more stroke. Just one more and—

“Stop!” Cole’s voice was harsh, violent as it cut into her fantasy. And then he was slamming her hands above her head, leaving her body in an agony of unfulfilled need, balanced precariously on the highest sexual precipice of her life.

Chapter Fourteen

Fuck! He was going to lose it like a kid in the throes of his first wet dream. How had she done this to him? How the f**k had he thought—even for an instant—that he could control all that heat and fire and rampant sexuality? Genevieve was a time bomb, and he was the one about to go off.

“Cole!” It was a broken cry, one that shot straight to his screaming c**k and had him clawing for a control he knew he wouldn’t find. “Don’t do this to me, don’t leave me—” Her voice broke, her body moving restlessly against the navy comforter.

He gritted his teeth, forced the words out when all he really wanted to do was fall on her like a starving man. “Soon, sweetheart.”

“Not soon—now!” She nearly screamed the word as she bucked against his hold on her, and the sight of her back bowing, her full br**sts standing even more proudly, nearly robbed him of the little composure he still had. “I’ve got to come, I’ve got to—”

For a long moment, he sat frozen, staring at her. Unable to breathe, as the world around them shrunk to this place and this moment.

He’d meant to drive her out of her mind, had started this as a way to break down the barriers she had against him. But he was the one losing control, the one about to blast through his own barriers in an effort to get to her.

It was a sobering thought, or would have been if he could have thought of anything but Genevieve. There were so many things he wanted to do with her, to her. So many ways he wanted to make her come. They flashed through his mind in an erotic montage as he stared at her in the fading light.

Genevieve on her hands and knees in front of him while he plunged into her. Genevieve screaming, her hands tangled in his hair, as he thrust his tongue into her pu**y and ate her like an ice-cream cone. Genevieve tied up, her body on fire as he took her places she’d never been before.

“Cole!” This time it was a scream, the sound freeing him from the sensual slide show in his head. With a growl, he reached into the nightstand again, came out with more black satin ties.

Leaning forward, he wrapped one around the wrists he still had pinned together above her head, then tied her to the black iron headboard. She didn’t complain as he’d expected, didn’t beg to be set free. He glanced down, wanting to make sure she was okay, and that’s when she struck. Arching up, her mouth found his pec and her teeth sunk in, hard.

“Shit!” he yelled as the threat of coming in his pants became even more real. “You little hellcat.”

“You have no idea.” Now she strained against the ties. “Fuck me, Cole. Fuck me now before I die of frustration.”

His heart was pounding like a f**king rap song, his breath bellowing in and out of his lungs. He had to get away, had to step back before he leapt on her. Before he f**ked her and took everything he wanted.

Jumping off the bed, he grabbed more ties. Then bound each of her ankles to the footboard so she was spread-eagled on the bed, her beautiful sex glistening in the evening twilight.

Shit! When he’d bought the ties, he hadn’t known if he could actually use them—wasn’t sure Genevieve would let him or that he would even want to. But some hitherto unheard-from instinct had had him placing them on the counter—and never before in his life had he been so glad that he’d listened to his gut.

“Cole, stop!”

“Stop?” he growled, his mouth watering at the sight of her spread out and bound like a sacrifice. He gritted his teeth against the need to taste her. To stroke her. To feel her flow around his tongue as she came. “You don’t look like you want me to stop.”

His hand moved without his command, stroked up her firm, slender thigh until he reached her drenched pussy. He ran a finger over the slick folds, careful not to touch the hard bud of her clit. “You don’t feel like you want me to stop.”

“Either f**k me or untie me!” Her heels dug into the bed as she lifted her pelvis, trying to get a stronger pressure on her sex.

But he pulled back, kept his touch deliberately light. Kept her on the brink of madness. “You’re not really in a position to give orders, are you?” he asked as he dipped his index finger inside her up to the first joint, felt the warm honey of her response.

“I swear, when you let me go—”

“Who says I’ll let you go?” He ignored the trembling in his hands, the weakness in his knees as his c**k throbbed for relief. Razor blades of desire were skating down his spine, down his dick, but he was determined to see this through. Determined to give her as much pleasure as she could take—and then more.

“Maybe I’ll keep you here, tied up on my bed. I’ll come to you in the morning, ease your sleeping body into orgasm so the first thing you think about, the first thing you feel when you wake up, is me.”

She moaned, her h*ps bucking against his hand. “I’ll come back in the afternoon, slip my tongue inside this sweet pu**y of yours. Stroke you and eat you and f**k you with my mouth until you scream my name. Then I’ll slide my c**k inside you and f**k you some more.”

“Fuck you!” She was trembling so badly that the words were more request than argument, more question than tell-off.

A drop of sweat rolled slowly down her chest and belly, pooled invitingly in her navel. He leaned forward, licked it off. Clenched his teeth until his jaw popped as her vaginal muscles tightened around his finger, pulling him deeper into her endless heat.

He swallowed tightly, struggled to speak over the need consuming him. “I’ll come to you at night, spend hours playing with these beautiful ni**les of yours.” He moved his other hand to her breast, drew circles around the incredibly tight areola.

“Turn you over and spank your delightful little ass. Then f**k you there, where you’re so tight.” He turned his hand so that his finger could go deeper inside her even as his thumb slid into the tight little hole. The heat of her, the overwhelming, unbelievable heat of her as she clenched around him had his dick spurting little drops of cum he could no longer contain.