Chapter 6
I can't believe this is happening.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was running for my life in a torn wedding dress. Now I'm half-naked on a stranger's bed—except Cole doesn't feel like a stranger anymore. Not with the way he's looking at me, like I'm something precious and desirable all at once.
His body is incredible— perfect abs and toned chest from years of ranch work and rodeo training. I've never seen a man so perfectly sculpted, like something from a magazine but warm and real beneath my fingertips. When he hovers above me, the broad expanse of his shoulders blocks out everything else, creating a world that contains only us.
His lips press against my collarbone, then trail lower, mapping a path that makes my skin tingle and my breath catch. He pauses at the swell of my breast, looking up to gauge my reaction.
"Stop," I whisper, and he immediately pulls back, concern replacing desire in his eyes.
"Too fast?" he asks, his voice rough but gentle.
I shake my head, trying to find the words to explain what I need. "It's not that. It's just..."
Cole sits back slightly, giving me space. "We don't have to do anything you don't want, Luisa."
"That's just it," I say, finding my courage. "I want to do something. I want to be in control." I meet his gaze directly. "I know it might not be your thing, but I want to get down on my knees for you."
His eyebrows lift in surprise, then a slow smile spreads across his face—not mocking, but appreciative.
"I'd be a fool to say no to that."
Relief and anticipation flood through me. Ricardo never let me take the lead, always insisting on controlling every aspect of our intimate life. This—choosing what I want to do, when I want to do it—feels like reclaiming a piece of myself.
I slide off the mattress, the carpet soft beneath my knees as I position myself between Cole's legs. My hands tremble slightly as I reach for his belt, but it's from excitement, not fear. He watches me intently, his breathing already quickening as I toss the belt aside and lower his jeans.
The impressive bulge straining against his boxers makes me pause. I glance up, finding his eyes dark with desire but patient, letting me set the pace. I hook my fingers into the waistband and tug downward.
His cock springs free, thick and hard, bobbing slightly before my face. I wrap my fingers around the base, a thrill running through me at his sharp intake of breath. The power I feel in this moment is intoxicating—I'm the one making this strong, capable man react this way.
I lean forward, maintaining eye contact as I wrap my lips around him. The sound he makes—a deep, throaty groan—sends a rush of heat between my legs. His hands come to rest lightly on my head, not pushing or directing, just connecting.
As I take him deeper, I feel more empowered with each movement. This is my choice. My desire. My control. Cole murmurs encouragement, telling me how good it feels, how beautiful I am. His words wash over me, healing something broken inside.
His hips twitch slightly, restraint evident in the tension of his muscles. I pull back slightly.
"You can move my head," I tell him. "I want you to."
He gently tangles his fingers in my hair, guiding me down at a firm but considerate pace. His cock slides deeper into my mouth, and I relax my throat, taking him as far as I can.
He's careful, so careful, even as his grip tightens slightly. That's what strikes me most—how he manages to take control while still ensuring he's not hurting me or pushing beyond what I can handle.
I work my tongue along the underside of his shaft, drawing another groan from him. His thighs tense beneath my hands as I try to take him fully, but he's too big—I gag slightly and he immediately eases his grip, letting me pull back.
"You don't have to—" he starts, but I silence him by taking him deep again, determined to give him as much pleasure as I can.
When I finally stop, breathing hard, there's a trail of saliva running down my chin. I look up to find him staring at me with an intensity that makes my heart race.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, reaching down to brush his thumb across my lower lip. "So damn beautiful."
His cock throbs visibly before me, slick and hard.
"I can't endure a second more," he says, his voice strained. "I need to be inside you."
I rise from my knees and climb onto the bed, lying back and opening my legs for him—a surrender that feels nothing like weakness.
Cole follows, positioning himself above me. His hands slide down my sides to the waistband of my borrowed sweatpants. He tugs them down along with my panties, his movements unhurried despite the urgency in his eyes.
When I'm fully naked beneath him, he bites his lower lip, taking in every inch of me. I tense slightly, suddenly self-conscious of the stretch marks on my hips and thighs from carrying Miguel, the softness of my stomach that never quite disappeared after pregnancy.
But if he notices these imperfections, he gives no sign. His gaze is reverent as he lowers himself between my thighs, using one hand to guide his hard cock to my entrance.
I gasp as the blunt head pushes inside me, my fingers gripping the sheets. He pauses, checking my reaction, only continuing when I nod my assent. Inch by inch, he fills me completely, stretching me in a way that borders between pleasure and pain.
"Okay?" he whispers against my ear.
"Yes," I breathe, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He begins to move, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm that quickly has me gasping. Sweat glistens on his chest as he braces himself above me, muscles flexing with each thrust. My breasts jiggle with the movement, and I grab one, both to steady myself and because I can tell from his heated gaze that he enjoys watching me touch myself.
Each thrust goes deeper, harder, faster, but never crossing into roughness. His control is impressive—the veins in his arms standing out as he supports his weight, his hands gripping the sheets beside my head.
"You feel incredible," Cole whispers, his voice strained with effort and pleasure.
I smile up at him, feeling beautiful and desired in a way I never have before. "You do too. I don't know how long I can take this."
He lowers his head, his lips brushing against my ear. "Just close your eyes. Feel everything all at once."
I do as he suggests, letting my eyes flutter shut. Immediately, my other senses heighten—the slick slide of his cock moving in and out of me, his strong hands shifting to grip my hips, the beads of sweat dropping from his forehead onto my belly and breasts. His scent—cedar, soap, and masculine sweat—fills my lungs with each gasping breath.
It's all too much and not enough at the same time. Heat builds low in my belly, spreading outward with each thrust, pushing me closer to the edge.
"I'm close too," Cole groans, somehow reading my body's signals. "We're going to come together."
His pace increases, each movement precise despite the growing urgency. The tension inside me coils tighter, winding up toward something I can sense will be explosive.
I open my eyes, needing to see him in this moment.
I lean forward slightly, one hand gripping his muscled arm as the first wave hits me. The orgasm crashes through me like nothing I've ever experienced—intense, all-consuming, stealing my breath and sending pulses of pleasure from my core to my fingertips.
Cole's arms begin to tremble as his rhythm falters. His eyes widen, locked with mine as he comes, his cock pulsing inside me as he releases. I feel each throb, each hot spurt as he empties himself, our bodies connected in the most intimate way possible.
When the final waves subside, he carefully shifts his weight to the side, collapsing next to me on the bed. We lie there panting, skin slick with sweat, the world slowly coming back into focus around us. I notice him wincing slightly as he massages his calf and ankle.
"Oh my God," I sit up suddenly, remembering his injury. "Your ankle—I completely forgot. Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?"
Cole chuckles, the sound warm and relaxed. "It was worth it, trust me. I'm fine."
I bite my lip, feeling both concerned and slightly proud that I made him forget his pain. "Next time, I'll remember."
His expression softens at my words. He shifts closer, cradling my face in one hand, his thumb brushing along my jawline.
"Next time?" he asks quietly. "Does that mean you're staying?"
The question hangs between us, weighted with possibility. I search his face, finding nothing but sincerity in his eyes.
"How can I resist this?" I whisper. "A man like you, safety, a good life for me and Miguel?" I shake my head slightly. "It feels like a dream. I'm not sure it isn't."
"It's not a dream," Cole says firmly, his palm warm against my cheek. "You're safe now. Both of you."
He leans in to kiss me, his lips just brushing mine when we hear it—the front door slamming open, followed by the sound of children's voices. Miguel and Lucy, chattering excitedly as they enter the house, their footsteps echoing down the hallway.
I tense, suddenly aware of our naked bodies, the unmistakable scent of sex in the air.
"We should go," I whisper urgently. "Before Miguel sees. It's too soon, I have no idea how to explain..." I pause, another thought striking me. "Besides, you probably don't want father duties thrust upon you."
To my surprise, Cole shakes his head, his expression serious. "I'm prepared for everything, Luisa. I'm not taking this lightly. I'll be there for you and for Miguel, every step of the way."
The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tighten with emotion. After years of broken promises and conditional love, here's a man offering exactly what I've needed—stability, safety, and genuine care for both me and my son.
I want to cry with happiness, but I hold the tears back, not wanting to waste a second of this moment. Instead, I lean forward and kiss him deeply, pouring all my gratitude and hope into it.
When we pull apart, his smile is bright enough to chase away the shadows of my past. Whatever comes next—explaining to Miguel, building a new life, facing the inevitable challenges—I won't be facing it alone.
For the first time in years, I feel something I'd almost forgotten: hope.