Chapter 8 - Ruby
"One crisis at a time." He says.
Something inside me snaps. For two days, I've been circling the mystery of Cole Blackwood—the strange behaviors and the half-truths. I've been patient. Professional. Understanding.
No more.
"No," I say, the word sharp enough to make him look up from the vegetables he's slicing. "Not tomorrow. Not after the audit. Now."
Cole's expression shifts from surprise to wariness. "Ruby—"
"Don't 'Ruby' me." I cross my arms, standing my ground. "Tomorrow I'll be gone. Back to Atlanta. Back to my life. Either you tell me now, or you don't tell me at all. But I'm done waiting."
His jaw tightens, those green eyes squinting. "It's complicated."
"Life is complicated. Taxes are complicated. Whatever this is between us?" I gesture between us. "That's complicated. But secrets? Secrets are simple. You either share them, or you don't."
"It's not that easy." He sets down the knife, "There are risks."
"Risks?" Frustration bubbles up, hot and urgent. "What about the risk of kissing me, then pulling away with cryptic warnings? What about the risk I've taken, staying here with a man I barely know, trusting you when everything about you screams that you're hiding something?"
Cole straightens to his full height, imposing even across the kitchen island. "You need to calm down."
Wrong thing to say. Very wrong.
"Don't tell me to calm down." I round the island, closing the distance between us. "I'm tired of being kept in the dark. Of watching you pace at night. Of seeing your eyes change color and pretending I didn't. Of bears with green eyes that look eerily familiar."
His expression shutters, confirming I've hit close to some truth. Frustration propels me forward, and I shove against his chest, needing some outlet for the storm of emotions inside me.
He doesn't budge. Not even an inch. It's like pushing against a brick wall.
Cole towers over me, looking down with an expression I can't quite read—concern, restraint, and something darker, more primal.
He steps forward, and suddenly I'm backing up until I hit the wall.
He places a hand beside my head, effectively trapping me between his massive body and the unyielding surface behind me.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he says, voice low and rough, eyes glinting in the kitchen light.
Heart pounding, I lift my chin defiantly. "Then tell me! Just tell me, Cole!"
His arms and hands are trembling, not with weakness but with some immense effort of restraint. Abruptly, he turns away, hands covering his face, shoulders hunched as if in pain.
My anger dissolves instantly into concern. I push away from the wall, following him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Cole? What's wrong?"
When he turns back, his voice has changed—deeper, almost guttural. His eyes, those forest-green eyes that have haunted me since I arrived, are different. Brighter. Almost... glowing.
"Ruby," he says, my name sounding like both warning and plea.
Before I can respond, he moves with startling speed, pulling me back to the wall and turning me to face it. His massive body presses against mine from behind, and I feel his cock throbbing, hard and insistent, against my back.
This doesn't feel like Cole. Not the kind, gentleman I've come to know over the past two days. This is something more primal, more desperate. And God help me, it's intoxicating.
His breath is hot against my neck as he speaks, voice rough and strained. "I can't... control myself much longer."
Some rational part of my brain knows I should be concerned by this admission. But rationality is rapidly losing ground to the heat building between us, to the way my body responds to his touch, to the strange, overwhelming sense that this is exactly where I'm meant to be.
"Then don't," I whisper, pressing back against him. "Don't overthink it. Just let go."
The sound he makes is barely human. A growl that vibrates through his chest into my back.
I hear fabric tear and realize with a shock that he's ripping away his clothes, hands trembling with urgency.
My sweater gives way, followed by my bra, until I'm standing in just my underwear, still facing the wall, heart thundering in my chest.
His hands are everywhere at once. Rough palms skimming over my stomach, rising to cup my breasts, fingers pinching my nipples with just enough pressure to make me gasp.
Cole drops to his knees behind me, large hands gripping my hips, thumbs pressing into the flesh of my thighs. Where Marcus once criticized my curves, Cole worships them, his mouth hot against my skin as he now kisses the roundness of my butt cheeks.
I try to turn, to see his face, but his voice stops me. "Don't look. Not yet." The command is gentle but firm. "Close your eyes, Ruby. Just feel."
I obey, letting my forehead rest against the cool wall, surrendering to sensation. His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, slowly dragging them down my thighs until they pool at my ankles. I step out of them, now completely naked before him.
Cool air hits my pussy, and I know he can see how aroused I am—how wet, how ready. A moment of self-consciousness flits through me, but it vanishes when I feel his fingers tracing delicately through my folds.
"Beautiful," he murmurs. "So perfect."
Two thick fingers slide back and forth through my wetness, spreading it, teasing my entrance but not yet entering. I arch back, seeking more contact, more pressure, more of him.
"Please," I whisper, not recognizing my own voice, husky with need.
The fingers disappear, and before I can protest their absence, Cole is turning me to face him. He remains on his knees, looking up at me with those strangely luminous eyes, hands gripping my thighs. Without warning, he leans forward and buries his face between my legs.
The first touch of his tongue nearly buckles my knees. I gasp, one hand flying to his hair, the other bracing against the wall for support. He devours me with single-minded focus—licking, sucking, his tongue finding every sensitive spot as if he's mapped my body a thousand times before.
My legs begin to quiver, heat building low in my belly, pleasure spiraling higher with each pass of his tongue. I'm a mess: cheeks flushed, sweat beading on my forehead and between my breasts, breath coming in short, desperate pants.
"Cole, I'm—I'm close," I warn, the pressure building to an almost unbearable climax.
He either doesn't hear or chooses to ignore the warning, his pace increasing, one hand sliding up to pinch my nipple in time with the movements of his tongue. The dual sensation pushes me over the edge, and I cry out as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
I sag forward, legs weak, but Cole's hand on my stomach steadies me. He looks up, mouth glistening with my juices trickling. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," I gasp, still trembling from aftershocks. "Yes. Don't stop. Please, Cole. I want all of you."
Something wild flashes in his eyes, and he rises to his full height, spinning me to face the wall again. I hear fabric rustling, then the soft thud of his underwear hitting the floor. The heat of his naked body presses against my back, and I feel the thick, hard length of him against my ass.
He's big. Thick and long, the veins prominent against my sensitive skin. For a moment, I wonder if he'll fit, but the thought dissolves into pure want. I need him inside me, need to be filled by him, claimed by him in a way I've never needed anything before.
Cole gathers my hair in one hand, gently pulling my head back to expose my neck. His lips brush my ear as he positions himself at my entrance.
"Last chance to stop me," he whispers, still giving me control even as his body trembles with restraint.
"Don't stop," I breathe, pressing back against him. "I want this. I want you."
With a sound that's more animal than human, he pushes forward, entering me with one powerful thrust that steals the breath from my lungs. The stretch is delicious, bordering on pain but quickly melting into pleasure as my body adjusts to his size.
For a moment, he's still, giving me time to accommodate him. Then he begins to move, each thrust deeper than the last, hitting places inside me I didn't know existed. His grip on my hair tightens, his other hand splayed across my stomach, holding me in place as he claims me mercilessly.
The power in his body is overwhelming—each thrust lifting me slightly onto my toes, his strength barely contained as he drives into me again and again. I can barely breathe, barely think beyond the sensation of being completely filled, completely possessed.
Cole roars. An actual roar that sounds nothing like a human voice, and the sound should frighten me but instead sends a new wave of arousal coursing through me.
"You feel incredible," he growls, his rhythm steady. "So tight. So perfect."
"You too," I manage, my voice weak and trembling in between moans. "So good, Cole. So big."
"You're mine," he says, the words sounding like both statement and revelation. "Mine."
"Yes," I gasp, meeting his thrusts with my own movements. "Yours. Whatever you want. I'm yours."
No man has ever made me feel like this—so desired, so complete, so utterly consumed. It's as if he's touching not just my body but something deeper, something essential that I didn't know was missing until now.
I feel him swell inside me, impossibly larger, as his release approaches. My own pleasure builds in response, a tightening coil ready to snap.
"Cum for me," he commands.