23. Cole
Cole
“Bridget!” I called out when I saw all the lights were still on inside the house.
“Upstairs,” she shouted back.
Jogging up the steps, I began to loosen my tie. Maybe after I was changed, I could coax her into a movie night.
“Did you catch the end of the game? Levi’s goal was—”
The words died on my tongue as I stopped dead on the threshold to my bedroom and did a double take. Then, just to make sure what I was seeing wasn’t a figment of my imagination, I rubbed at my eyes.
My hands fell away, only to confirm that Bridget was indeed kneeling at the center of my mattress, wearing nothing but a Surf jersey.
And not just any Surf jersey. Mine.
“What, uh—” I swallowed. Hard. “What are you doing in here?”
A coy smile played on her lips, her voice sultry as she replied, “What do you think?”
I think this is my every dream come true.
When I stood there silent, Bridget’s fingers toyed with the hem of the oversized garment that branded her with my name across the back. “Do you remember the last time you found me like this?”
How could I forget? That was the night I became addicted to eating her pussy.
With the phantom taste of her playing across my tongue, I barely managed a nod in response.
She crawled on her hands and knees over the comforter, allowing the neck of the jersey to gape open and giving me a peek at the naked body beneath.
Holy shit.
My blood rushed south, my dick tenting my slacks.
I wanted her. So fucking badly.
But the memory of what happened in the gym forced me to pump the brakes.
“Bridget.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m not sure you’re ready for this.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you think I should be the one who gets to decide what I am or am not ready for?”
“Of course, but—”
“I want to share something with you.” Bridget climbed off the bed, padding to where I still stood on the threshold of the room.
I pulled in a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Aiden, he—” My fists clenched at the mention of that fucker’s name. “He used to hold me down when we had sex.”
“Son of a bitch,” I gritted out, seeing red.
Bridget lifted a hand, smoothing a thumb over the divot between my brows.
“I’m not telling you this to make you angry on my behalf; I’m telling you so that you can understand why I’ve been struggling with this part of our relationship.
And I’m hoping that by being open and honest about my past trauma surrounding physical intimacy, we can find a way to take this next step. Because I really want this.”
“God, I want it too,” I breathed, dropping my forehead to hers.
I felt her smile against my lips as she began working the buttons of my dress shirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
Huffing out a laugh, I pulled back to remove my tie and shirt. “If you want a strip show, all you have to do is ask.”
Her eyes dipped to stare at my bare chest and abs. When they lifted back up to meet mine, her pupils were completely blown out.
Lips parted to allow her shallow, panting breaths to escape, she pointed to my lower half. “I want those pants gone too.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I kicked off my shoes while working the buckle of my belt and lowering my fly. The fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me only in tight, black boxer-briefs that did very little to conceal my raging erection.
My hand moved automatically, rubbing a palm over my length. Head tipped back, I groaned.
I sucked in a sharp breath when Bridget’s lips pressed to my overheated skin, trailing a path up the side of my neck. Her hands roved over my abs, fingertips teasing over each divot.
“I swear, you’ve gotten even hotter in the years we spent apart.”
I had been on the verge of twenty at the time of our breakup, still more boy than man. Since then, I’d packed on thirty pounds of pure muscle, and having Bridget admire that change made every grueling workout worth it.
Clearing my throat wasn’t enough to keep my voice from coming out gruff. “I, uh, have an idea.” One that I prayed would make her feel safe and comfortable enough to keep going.
Bridget blinked up at me. “What kind of idea?”
“I’m gonna get on the bed and hold onto the headboard. I promise not to let go, so you can do as much or as little as you want. You’d be in complete control. How’s that sound?”
With a thoughtful expression on her face, she glanced back toward the king-sized mattress and the slatted headboard that provided the perfect handholds.
Nodding slowly, she said, “That’s actually perfect.”
A smile crept onto my lips as I stepped past her and situated myself at the center of the bed, flat on my back. Before I lifted my arms to grab the vertical metal slats, I asked, “Underwear on or off?”
There was zero hesitation. “Off. Definitely off.”
Hell yes.
Hooking my thumbs beneath the elastic waistband of my boxer briefs, I shoved them down my thighs before kicking them away.
Now fully naked, I reclined, stretching my arms over my head and assuming the position I’d promised would keep my hands off her while she played with my body in any way she wanted.
“I’m all yours, beautiful.”
Bridget looked like she wanted to devour me whole as her hungry green gaze raked over every inch of my exposed skin. When she honed in on my hard cock straining toward the ceiling, it twitched under the intense attention.
Chest rising and falling rapidly, she darted her tongue out to moisten her lower lip.
The sexual tension in the room grew so thick it was a wonder we didn’t choke on it.
Breathless, Bridget confessed, “I can’t decide where I want to start.”
A chuckle rolled through my chest. “May I offer a suggestion?” She dipped her chin, so I said, “Sit on my face.”
Her eyes grew large, her mouth dropping open, as a flush of pink crept up her neck. She shook her head violently, stammering, “N-no, we don’t have to do that.”
“We don’t have to do anything,” I countered. “And like I said before, you’re in charge, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t desperate to bury my face between your thighs. In fact, I’ve been dreaming about it for weeks.”
She released a stunned exhale. “You have?”
“God, yes.”
“It’s just—” Bridget fixed her focus on where she toed the ground. “My pleasure hasn’t been a priority in a very long time.”
“How long?” I dared to ask.
Lifting one shoulder, she peeked at me shyly through her lashes. “Since the last time I was with you.”
My fists flexed, the sharp corners of the square slats biting into my palms.
Selfish, fucking bastard.
He’s the past; you’re the future. Don’t forget that.
Hauling in a centering breath, I released it slowly. “It’s your call. Just know I’m here, ready and eager to make you feel good in any way you’ll let me.”
Voice whisper-quiet, she countered, “What if I’m too heavy to do that anymore?”
Her curves had always been my kryptonite. I fucking loved them, and I couldn’t wait for the day when she felt safe enough for me to dig my fingertips into her generous hips and thick thighs.
“You’re not. I promise,” I vowed with all the sincerity I could muster.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she considered my proposal.
After what felt like an eternity, determination flickered over her features, and she moved toward where I lay. The mattress dipped as she climbed atop it and crawled closer.
Leaning down, she slanted her mouth over mine, her tongue driving past my lips. I groaned into the kiss, battling back tentatively to let her know I would follow her lead.
Her hot little palm landed on my chest, circling one of my nipples before pinching it, and I hissed at the sting of pain, my head falling back against the pillows.
“I’ll do worse than that if I find out you’re lying to me.”
The only lie I’d ever told this woman was when I claimed not to love her with every fiber of my being and then spent the next eight years being punished for it.
But instead of saying that and killing the mood, I teased, “Soooooo, you gonna hop on or leave me hanging all night?”
Bridget lifted her eyes to the ceiling with a huffed “Fine,” as if it were the ultimate hardship for her to let me fuck her with my tongue.
I could appreciate that the snark and sarcasm were her way of protecting herself. If she kept her expectations low, she wouldn’t wind up disappointed—something that, from the sounds of it, was a common occurrence.
Once I got her to actually kneel above me and drop her weight onto my face, it wouldn’t take more than thirty seconds before I’d have her begging me not to stop and erasing the lazy, selfish assholes she’d been with from her memory.
Stradling my head, Bridget gave me the perfect view of paradise, and my mouth began to water. I craned my neck to make contact, but she hovered just out of reach.
“Beautiful, you’re killing me. I need a taste.”
Bridget tucked her chin to stare down at me as she lowered two inches. “Better?”
Barely able to suppress a growl of frustration, I coaxed, “Need you closer.”
Her chest rose on a deep inhale. “Okay.”
Then, mercifully, she relaxed her thighs enough that I was plunged face-first into nirvana.
For a second, all I did was breathe her in, the scent so intoxicating it made my head swim. That must’ve not been enough for my girl, because her hips shifted, and a whined “Cole” floated toward the ceiling.
Smiling to myself that her nerves had fled the building, I swiped my tongue through her slit, flicking over that swollen bud that made her squeal.
I went to work, eating at her like the starving man I was. It didn’t seem possible, but she was even more delicious than I remembered, and I couldn’t get enough, drinking down each wave of arousal as it came.
She moaned, bucking against my mouth. “Oh, God. I forgot how amazing this feels.”
Currently unable to speak and reply, Me too, I hummed my agreement, the vibrations against her slick flesh eliciting a throaty groan.
One of her hands fell to my hair, gripping the strands tightly and moving me where she wanted. I was more than happy to oblige, my sole aim to bring her pleasure.