Chapter 18
Closing up, be there soon.
Do you need anything? I can grab some dinner.
Or if Ernest wants treats.
I want him to like me.
Red
I’m already regretting this.
You won’t regret it later *wink emoji*
IF that’s where the night is going
Totally fine if not. No expectations.
Red
God, you don’t shut up even in text form.
I’m out of diet cherry cola, Ernest loves the expensive treats that are in the bakery section, and I wouldn’t say no to a burger from Louie’s.
Damn, Red.
Red
YOU OFFERED.
You, I did. See you in thirty.
Twenty-nine minutes later I arrive at Cole’s apartment.
The last time I was here, I didn’t really get a chance to look around, but I get that chance now when Cole throws open the door, wearing the same mouthwatering cutoff jean shorts and crop top that she had on earlier.
The only difference is the fuzzy polka dot socks now covering her feet.
I smirk.
She scowls.
“Come in, Bardot.”
Kicking my shoes off, I make my way to the kitchen. “I’ve been demoted to my last name now?”
I can’t help but watch as she moves around the oversized emerald couch, searching for the remote in the cushions. “I never know what to call you. Benjamin when you’re being annoying. Bardot… when you’re being annoying. Ben when you’re being less annoying.”
“Never Benoit, though.” I find the bag of bougie dog treats right as Ernest hobbles into the kitchen. He jumps a few times on his back legs before I bend down to offer him one.
Cole finally locates the remote amidst the piles of pillows, pausing the true crime documentary that was streaming. “Sometimes Benoit,” she replies, and fuck if I don’t love the sound of my name on her lips.
“When I’m being annoying?” I joke, offering her a diet cherry cola and her dinner from Louie’s.
She sits down at the counter, wagging a finger at me. “See! Now you’re catching on. I always knew you were smart.”
“Did you? I seem to remember you thinking I was quite the idiot.”
“You are an idiot. But a smart idiot, which is a dangerous combination.” She lifts her eyebrow as if she’s inviting me to argue. I don’t. “So what do you prefer to be called, then?”
I prop my elbows on the counter and lean toward her, pretending to ponder her question. “What about ‘husband’?”
“For fuck’s sake, Benjamin. I’m not marrying you,” she says around a bite of burger.
“Why not? We had a deal,” I reply.
She scoffs. “A ‘deal’”—she adds air quotes for emphasis—“that we made twelve years ago when I was drunk for the first time in my life. It would not hold up in a court of law on this planet or any other.”
“I’m fine with a courtroom wedding, it doesn’t need to be fancy.”
“What? That’s not what I said!”
I continue, pretending I didn’t hear her. “Though, I did always picture something a little more formal. Not necessarily black tie, but I could be persuaded if that was what you wanted.”
“Benjamin,” she growls. “Stop planning our fake wedding.”
“But it’s so fun to rile you up,” I say, booping her on the nose. Her glare is murderous, so I walk away, taking the opportunity to explore the rest of her apartment.
She’s on the first floor with a nice little green space that I can see through the sliding glass doors.
The rest of the room is painted a deep purple and there are several lamps that cast a comforting glow throughout the space.
Similar to her bedroom, there’s vintage artwork arranged on the walls in between several floating bookshelves.
Cole obviously does not have a green thumb because the two plants on the windowsill are dying, just like the snake plant in her bedroom was.
I ignore the way she is fuming, passing back into the kitchen to find a glass of water for the plants. Tsking lightly, I admonish her plant growing abilities. “You need to give these some attention,” I say, gesturing to the dying fern.
“For some reason, I have never been able to keep a plant alive. It doesn’t bark at me like Ernest does when he needs something.”
“Fair. I can help you with that.” I don’t wait for her response, immediately jumping into a new topic so she can’t protest. “I noticed you have a puzzle going. Can I add pieces or is it like a sacred ritual?”
“You like to puzzle?” she asks instead of answering my question.
Shrugging, I finish watering the plants and then walk around the coffee table until I can see how she has things laid out.
“My grandmother always used to have a puzzle she was working on. It was something we could do together when I visited. It’s so satisfying when you find that perfect piece of puzzle and it snaps into place. ”
Cole hums, her mouth full of burger. When she’s done with her last bite, she delicately licks her fingers before taking a swig of cola to wash it all down. I watch as her crop top lifts, exposing a creamy expanse of skin.
I want to lick it.
“It is satisfying,” she finally says, causing my eyes to jump back to her face. “You can add pieces, but if you pick one up and it doesn’t fit, put it back where you found it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I wink, plopping onto the ground so I have a good view of the puzzle. When Cole doesn’t move, I pat the couch right behind me. “Come sit. You can turn your murder show back on if you want.”
She hesitates. I can see it when I look back up at her. “Something wrong?”
Her eyes narrow, hearing the challenge in my question. She can talk about what’s going on here or she can keep pretending it’s nothing.
Turns out, she’s fine with the latter. I hide my grin as Cole marches over to the couch, sitting right behind me so her thighs bracket my shoulders.
I reach back and pat the inside of her leg. “See. Not that hard. We can sit here, do a puzzle together, so domest—what are you doing, Red?”
“Taking my shorts off.”
When I turn to look, my throat dries up at the sight of Cole planting her feet on either side of me, unbuttoning her cutoff jeans, and lifting her hips so she can slide them down over her ass.
“I—I see that,” I gulp.
“Don’t let me stop you from puzzling.” She smirks. She’s now lifting her legs so her shorts can come all of the way off, leaving her in the crop top, black underwear, and polka-dot socks.
She’s a vision, a dream, a bombshell.
There’s no way I’m going to be able to focus on anything else besides her. Cole slides her finger in the top of her panties, back and forth, hypnotizing my very being. I’m a dog, begging for more treats. She’s the fucking treat.
My hand reaches toward her before I can stop it. “Tut-tut, Benoit. Be a good boy and work on the puzzle.”
“Work on the…” I can’t wrap my mind around what she’s saying right now. She angles her chin to the table behind me, the one I’ve completely forgotten about.
“The puzzle, Benoit.”
My heart’s racing as I turn away from her and back to the task she’s asked me to work on.
I’m sweating already, my glasses slipping down my nose as I try to concentrate on finding an edge piece.
The entire time, I’m hypersensitive to the sound of skin against fabric, the light snap of elastic, and… she’s wet. I can hear it.
Cole whimpers and it takes everything in me not to turn around and watch her. I know she’s probably flushed, her head thrown back in pleasure as she fingers herself while I’m sitting right the fuck here. My entire body tenses up, waiting.
Then, one hand slides over my shoulder while the other comes around to tap on my mouth. “Open up,” she commands, so I do. “Suck.”
So, of course, I do. I suck her sweet taste off of her own finger, my eyes rolling to the back of my head at the flavor of her. “Fuck,” I mutter around her finger. “More.”
She pops her finger out of my mouth, then stands in one swift motion. “You haven’t done anything.”
Haven’t done anything? Confused, I look up and see that she’s staring at the puzzle in front of me.
“Do you need more of an incentive?” She quirks her eyebrow but doesn’t wait for my answer. Her ass swings from side to side as she walks across the room, positioning herself on a chaise lounge directly across from me.
Giving me the perfect view.
Her hand slides back into the top of her underwear. And then she waits.
Tearing my eyes away from her, I stare at the puzzle in front of me, not really seeing the pieces. It’s a mountain scene of some sort, I’ve gathered that much from the box that’s been propped up as a guide. Cole has most of the edges done, but the right side sits mostly incomplete.
She’s neatly laid out the remaining edge pieces, so I pick one up and catch movement in my peripheral vision. Cole has dipped her hand further, her legs falling open as she moves her fingers in slow circles. I can feel her eyes on me, watching to make sure I’m following her rules.
This is her way of taking charge, taking control back. And, fuck, I’m not mad about it. I don’t think anyone on planet Earth has ever been this turned on while doing a puzzle.
I pick up a piece, attempting to place it in the correct spot but my gaze keeps wandering to this perfect woman touching herself right in front of me.
She moans, her eyes drifting shut. “C’mon, Bardot. Finish that edge so you can come over here.” Her words are breathy, desperate—as close to a plea as I’m going to get from her.
But they get the job done, because now I have the motivation I need to fit the rest of these pieces together. I get five pieces connected in quick succession. There are eleven left, so I push my glasses up again and get to work.
The sound of Cole’s arousal is lewd, spurring me on.
Three pieces left…
Two pieces.
One.
“Done!” I practically shout, jumping to my feet.
Cole sits up, holding her hand out to stop me from moving toward her. The whine I let out would be embarrassing if I wasn’t so fucking hard just thinking about how much control she has over me.
“Shirt off,” she demands. My Bardot Brothers Coffee Co. T-shirt is immediately on the floor. She smirks, enjoying how eager I am. “Now crawl.”
I’m on all fours before she finishes her sentence. The area rug bites into my palms as I slowly crawl toward Colette Russell. Her bottom lip comes between her teeth as she watches, hand returning to her pussy to slowly circle.
A piece of hair flops down in front of my face, and she leans forward to push it back. Her hand tangles, pulling just slightly as she tips my head up. “You were a good boy following directions. Now you get to make me come.”
Nodding my head as much as I can, I beg. “Please, Cole. Please let me.”
With one more light tug, she lets go, allowing me to rise onto my knees. My hands slide up her bare legs, squeezing incrementally as I go. When I reach the spot where her hips meet her thighs, I press my thumb into that crease, slipping under her underwear toward her clit.
She arches back, anticipation painted over every part of her body. But before I put my finger where she wants it, I hook her panties and pull them off so I can have a full view of her perfect cunt.
I contemplate taking my glasses off, reaching up to adjust them, but Cole’s breathy, “Leave them on,” has me stopping in my tracks.
“I will only wear glasses from now on if that’s what you like, Colette.”
“It’s what I like,” she moans, pushing her chest toward me.
One of my hands moves under her shirt while the other begins firm circles around her clit. “I’d like to use my mouth now, if you’re okay with that.”
“I—” She cuts off with a moan. “I’m okay with that.”
Leaning toward her, I replace my fingers with my tongue, doing my best to keep up the pace I’d set.
She tastes exquisite, and now it’s my turn to moan.
I lightly tweak her nipple before circling her areola several times, mimicking the movement on her clit.
She bows back, mouth popping open in ecstasy as her thighs slam around my face, knocking my glasses askew.
“Fuck,” she cries. Her body is shaking as she rides the waves of her orgasm. Slowly, I press one finger, and then two into her center, hooking them to increase her pleasure. “Why—” She gasps. “Why are you so good at this?”
“Research,” I reply between strokes of my tongue. I want her to keep coming. I want to make her come again and again for the rest of my life.
“Research?” She laughs. “You did research on how to have sex?”
She’s slowly coming down now, her chest still heaving, her legs lazily draped over my shoulders. I run my hands through my hair with a shrug. “I looked up some tips on sexual pleasure when your partner is autistic.”
When she just stares at me, I continue, “Everyone is different, obviously. And if there’s anything you like or don’t like, please tell me. But firm touch and predictability seemed to be a common theme.”
“You did research on how to be a better partner to someone with autism… for me.”
“Yeah, Colette. For you. And for me,” I joke. “I would very much like to keep having sex with you so I had to make sure it was enjoyable.”
A beat passes and I’m worried I royally fucked up. And then she springs forward, pinning me to the ground, her legs on either side of my hips.
“Stop being nice to me,” she says before kissing me senseless.
I don’t know how to tell her that if she wants me to stop, she can’t keep kissing me like this.