12. Cole
COLE
The second I lock the door behind us, my hands curl into fists.
This is such a huge mistake. I know it before I even turn around.
I should’ve walked away the second I saw her at the bar. Should’ve finished my beer, gotten in my car, driven home, and passed out. Instead, I followed her into a bathroom, opened my stupid mouth, and suggested something we’re both going to regret the second it’s over.
But my dick’s a moron, and apparently it decided it wanted her.
I toss my keys onto the desk and keep my eyes on her, trying to force myself to remember she’s the same girl who ruined my life in one night.
Problem is, I don’t seem to care right now. All I can think about is the club. Her hips rolling slow over me, those sharp blue eyes locked on mine while she tortured me out of my mind.
I lean against the door and watch her.
She’s trying hard not to look nervous, but I catch the way she swallows harshly, her eyes flicking everywhere but me as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, like some part of her still hasn’t decided whether to run or stay.
She acts like she doesn’t care about anything, but right now it’s impossible to miss. She’s scared this will get out. Scared Golden Boy finds out she’s here—in my room, with me.
No one can know.
God. That’s rich.
Like I’d ever want the world knowing I fucked Aurora Prescott.
Some part of me—probably the smarter part—almost hopes she takes the out. Walks back out the door. Saves both of us from whatever the hell this is about to turn into.
But of course she doesn’t.
She turns and locks those eyes on me, blowing out a sharp breath, the nerves disappearing, replaced by the venom I know too well.
“Are you just going to stand there staring at me, or actually do something?”
There she is. The Viper.
I push off the door and walk toward her. Her spine straightens but she doesn’t take a step back. She just holds my stare, her chin tipped up.
My gaze falls to her full mouth, and I want to sink my teeth into it, wanting to shut her up for once. I catch the flush along her neck, disappearing into the scoop of that tight black top as my eyes continue their path down to that tiny skirt and those knee-high boots.
Christ, I want this woman. I want to drag her onto my bed, peel that outfit off piece by piece and fuck her until she can’t get another smart line out.
I snap myself out of it. This is simply a means to an end: getting her out of my system so I can go back to pretending she doesn’t exist. So I can stop smelling her everywhere I go. Stop remembering shit I have no business remembering.
“There’s still time to run away,” I tell her, taking a step closer.
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t run.”
No, she doesn’t. Aurora doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do, and she sure as shit doesn’t run away from things.
My hand closes around her hip, pulling her closer, lifting her chin with my other hand.
Her eyes are sharp, gleaming with venom, but her lips part on a shaky breath, and when her tongue flicks over the bottom one, my eyes drop to it like a moth to a flame, wondering what she tastes like.
“No kissing,” she cuts in, dragging my attention back to her eyes.
“Good,” I say, even though my thumb is already dragging over her bottom lip, feeling how soft it is. “Wouldn’t want to get poisoned by your viper tongue anyway.”
I give her a few seconds, waiting to see if she shoves me back and walks out the door.
Instead, she tilts her head and pastes on a smirk. “You seem a little nervous,” she says, lifting her brow teasingly. “Are you sure you even know how to make a woman come?”
A laugh slips out under my breath and I tug on her bottom lip. “You’re going to open that pretty mouth for one reason tonight,” I murmur, leaning in close enough to feel the hitch in her breath, “and it isn’t to insult me.”
Whatever restraint I had snaps clean in half as I grab a handful of her ass through that skirt that’s been driving me insane from the moment I saw her.
I yank her top over her head, and the sight of her in that thin lace bra knocks the air out of me. Her skirt hits the floor next, kicked aside, leaving her in nothing but matching lace underwear.
Did she wear this for frat boy? Or does she just… walk around in shit like this?
Either way, it makes me furious.
A low sound tears from her throat when I grip her ass again, harder this time. I’m pissed at myself for how much I want her, how easy it is to forget every reason I hate her.
Her hands slide under my shirt, lifting it higher, and I drag it over my head. Her gaze drops to my tattooed chest, and she swallows at the sight before she catches herself and looks away. A smirk tugs at my lips.
Aurora Prescott wants me.
And hates herself for it.
Fucking ditto.
I pop the button of my jeans and drag the zipper down, pushing the denim down my hips until it pools on the floor. I’m already hard—have been since the second I walked into that bathroom—and my cock is straining against my boxers.
I shove the fabric down and wrap my hand around myself, giving it a slow stroke.
Her eyes drop instantly, her mouth parting in shock as she watches me stroke my cock. A rough laugh slips out of me when I realize she’s completely transfixed by my frenum piercing.
“Enjoying the view, Prescott?”
She snaps her gaze back up to mine, shooting me a glare, but it’s too late. I saw the hunger in her eyes that she’d rather chew glass than admit to.
“Get on your knees,” I tell her.
Her eyes flare with anger, but she sinks down slowly in front of me.
I give myself another stroke, groaning at the sight of her on her knees for me. “Open your mouth.”
She shoots me another glare, but she parts her lips, sticking her tongue out for me, wet and pink and waiting.
I slap my cock onto her tongue. “You want to act like a brat,” I murmur, sliding my fist into her hair with my other hand, “I’ll treat you like one.”
I guide her down as she wraps her lips around the head of my cock, running her tongue over my piercings so slowly it irritates me.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” I grit out, tightening my grip on her hair. “I want you to suck it like you’ve been craving it all damn night.”
She narrows her eyes but takes more of me, her cheeks hollowing, dragging me deeper, inch by inch.
I suck in a sharp breath when I feel her scrape her teeth on my cock on purpose, and I tug her hair back, tilting her head to meet my eyes. “Don’t be a fucking brat. Use that pretty mouth and suck.”
She looks like she wants to stab me but lowers her head again, her tongue flicking over the piercings, teasing the tip. Her lips seal tight around the head as she sinks forward, and the heat of her mouth hits me so hard my knees nearly buckle.
“Fuck,” I breathe, the word scraping out of me. “Guess that mouth’s good for something after all.”
Spit spills past her lips as she sucks me down, pressing her tongue flat as she slides me deeper and deeper, until I hit the back of her throat. She gags around me, her throat tightening, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pull back.
Christ. I feel dizzy.
“Hate me all you want,” I manage through a shaky breath, watching her mascara run as tears blur her eyes while she chokes on me. “Your mouth clearly loves my cock.”
She pulls back just far enough to breathe, spit glistening on her chin, her hand still wrapped around the base of my cock as she strokes me.
“You talk a lot,” she rasps, her voice wrecked.
“Then use that mouth and shut me up.”
I slide back inside her hot mouth again, the wet sounds obscene as I start fucking her throat.
“Look at you,” I groan. “Bet your ex never had you gagging like this.”
“Fuck you,” she hums with her mouth full of my cock, the vibration from her words shooting straight up my spine.
I thrust again, deeper this time, until she gags, but she doesn’t stop. If anything, she doubles down. Her lips seal tighter as she sucks me deeper, harder.
Her hand slides lower, her fingers cupping my balls, squeezing just enough to make my hips jerk.
“Ah—fuck.”
I’m gonna come.
Fuck, not yet.
I yank her off me and her lips pop free with a wet sound that echoes through the room.
She coughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes—glassy, smeared, furious—snap up to mine.
“Did those hurt?” she asks, breathless.
My thumb brushes over the two metal balls of my frenum piercing, still slick from her mouth.
“Like a bitch,” I say, rolling my hips forward just enough to nudge her bottom lip with the head of my cock. “Feels so fucking good now, though.”
Before she can fire back, I grip her waist and haul her up off the floor.
God, I just want to be done with her.
Want this shit over with so I can finally forget her.
But right now I’m memorizing every single second.
I crawl up her body, pushing her knees apart until she’s spread open for me. Her skin’s warm under my palms, and when I bite the inside of her thigh, she jolts slightly.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties, dragging the lace down her thighs. But I’m an impatient bastard, and when I can’t take it anymore, I rip them clean off her.
I drag the torn lace down her calves and toss it aside, and when I finally spread her open—
“Christ,” I grunt.
She’s glistening.
Dripping.
And it’s all for me.
A groan breaks out of my chest, and the second I get my hands under her thighs and shove them wide, I lower my head and bury my tongue in her pussy.
She jerks up off the bed with a sharp cry. “Cole—!”
The moment my tongue drags through her, my eyes roll back before I can stop them. My grip on her thighs tightens, pinning her open as my tongue drags slowly through her, collecting every slick drop she’s made for me.
My tongue swirls around her clit, and her thighs clamp around my head as pretty moans leave her lips.
I spread her legs open and pull back, rubbing circles with my finger over her clit.
“Tastes so sweet,” I groan, leaning down to lick her. “Figures your ex didn’t know what to do with you.”
“Shut the f—fuck up—oh my god—” she gasps, the last word dissolving into a sound that makes me grin.