Alright, my loves…
Buckle in, because we’re stepping straight into Chapter Four and things are getting deliciously intense. If you’ve been following this series, you already know Cole doesn’t do soft, simple, or halfway.
And this week? He takes control to a level that’ll have your pulse tripping over itself.
Here’s your taste…His fingers trace the line of the silk rope one last time…
Yes. We’re starting right there with trembling knees, a floor-to-ceiling mirror, and a man who knows exactly how to use both restraint and reflection to unravel a woman piece by piece.
The full chapter is live, and it is all heat, all tension, and absolutely not for the faint of heart. Paid readers, go ahead and slide into the full experience.
Free readers… whew, you’re gonna want to upgrade. Trust me.
Because Cole is just getting warmed up.
Chapter 4
His fingers trace the line of the silk rope one last time, a promise and a threat woven into that single, deliberate touch.
The aftershocks of my climax are still a faint tremor in my limbs, a lingering echo of the control he so effortlessly wields over my body.
He rises to his full height, a tower of muscle and intent, and his hands settle on my bound arms, just above the cuffs.
“Up,” he commands, his voice a low vibration that seems to originate from deep within his chest.
He helps me to my feet, my knees slightly unsteady. The movement shifts the ropes, the silk tightening just enough to remind me of its beautiful, constricting presence.
He doesn’t lead me out of the room. Instead, he guides me to the far wall, which I now realize is not a wall at all, but a vast, floor-to-ceiling mirror, framed in the same dark, polished wood that adorns the rest of the room.
He positions me before it, my back to his front. His hands slide from my arms to my hips, holding me firmly in place. Look, his grip seems to say. See what I see.
And I do.
The woman in the reflection is a stranger, and yet she is utterly, completely me. My skin is flushed, a deep rose-pink that speaks of recent exertion and intense pleasure.
My eyes are light, but my pupils are wide with desire. The crimson silk rope is an intricate, stark contrast against my skin, woven around my torso, emphasising the swell of my breasts, the narrowness of my waist.
My arms are pulled behind me, secured by the soft, dark leather cuffs, the position arching my back and pushing my chest forward in a silent, desperate offering. I am a portrait of surrender, of willing captivity.
And behind me stands Cole. His dark eyes are locked on my reflection, watching me process the image.
His expression is one of fierce, unadulterated possession. His hands, large and capable, span my hips, his thumbs stroking my skin.
He is still magnificently erect, his arousal a blatant, thrilling fact pressed against the small of my back.
“See how beautiful you are like this?” he murmurs, his lips close to my ear. His voice is a rough caress. “See what it does to you? To me?”
I can only nod, my throat too tight for words. Seeing myself like this, so utterly vulnerable and yet so powerfully desired, sends a fresh, dizzying wave of heat straight to my core.
The ropes feel tighter, the cuffs more definitive. My arousal, which had just begun to ebb, crests again with a vicious intensity.
One of his hands leaves my hip, and I hear the soft sound of him spitting into his palm.
A moment later, I feel the slick, hot head of his erection press against me from behind, seeking entrance.
My breath hitches, my eyes widening in the mirror. He’s going to take me like this. The thought is a lightning strike of pure, unadulterated lust.
He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. My body answers for me, softening, yielding, readying for him.
He pushes inside with a single, slow, devastating thrust that steals the air from my lungs.
The sensation is utterly transformative.
The fullness is profound, a deep, stretching ache that is pure pleasure. But it’s the restraints that change everything.
With my arms bound behind me, I have no leverage, no control. I can’t brace myself against the mirror or reach back to grip his thighs.
I am completely at the mercy of his rhythm, his pace, his strength.
Every movement he makes is amplified, transmitted directly through my bound body.
The silk rope shifts and pulls with each of his thrusts, creating a secondary, maddening friction across my belly and breasts.
His hands return to my hips, his grip firm, almost bruising, as he sets a deep, relentless pace. His eyes are locked on the mirror, watching himself disappear into me, watching my face contort with each driving impact.
“Watch,” he growls, his voice strained with the effort of his control. “Watch me take you.”
My gaze, which had fluttered shut, snaps open. I’m forced to watch the entire erotic spectacle.
I see the way my body jolts with each of his powerful thrusts. I see the faint ripple of my flesh, the way my breasts sway with the force of his movement.
I see the absolute focus on his face, the raw, primal need that contorts his handsome features. I see myself… I am coming apart under his command.
The visual is as potent as the physical sensation. It’s too much. It’s everything.
He leans forward, his chest pressing against the ropes on my back, and his mouth finds the juncture of my neck and shoulder.
He bites down, Damn… not hard enough to mark, but with enough pressure to make me cry out, the sound sharp and desperate in the quiet room.
The pain is a bright, sharp counterpoint to the deep, throbbing pleasure building inside me.
His rhythm becomes faster, harder, more urgent. The force of his thrusts pushes me forward, and only his iron grip on my hips and the counter-pressure of his body keeps me upright.
The mirror is fogging slightly from our breath, our heated skin.
“You feel… incredible,” he grunts against my skin, his words punctuated by each driving motion. “So tight… so perfect… mine.”
The possessive word, growled with such conviction, is the final key. The coil of pleasure that had been winding tighter and tighter deep within my abdomen suddenly snaps.
My climax crashes over me with a violence that is blinding. A raw, guttural scream is torn from my throat, my body convulsing around him, clenching and milking his length in frantic, involuntary pulses.
My vision whites out at the edges, the image in the mirror blurring into a smear of flushed skin, dark rope, and raw passion.
My violent contractions trigger his own release. With a final, brutal thrust that presses me flush against the glass, he buries himself to the hilt and groans, a deep, ragged sound of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
I feel the hot, pulsing rush of him deep inside me, the final, claiming act that sends another, smaller aftershock rippling through my sensitized body.
We stay like that for a long moment, slumped together against the foggy mirror, our heavy breaths syncing.
I am held upright only by his body and the restraints, a boneless, sated weight. He nuzzles the damp hair at my temple, his own breathing gradually slowing.
Slowly, carefully, he supports my weight and pulls out of me. I whimper at the sudden emptiness, the loss of contact.
He turns me in his arms, my bound hands pressed between his chest and mine.
He looks down at me, his eyes dark and satisfied, but with that familiar, unconquered hunger still smouldering in their depths.
He smiles, a slow, wicked curve of his lips. “The mirror,” he says, his voice a low, thrilling rumble… more to cum.
Alright, my loves… this is where I slip the velvet rope in front of you.
If you are feeling that heat building, if Cole’s control, that mirror, and all this delicious tension had you biting your lip, then you are going to want what comes next.
Chapters 5 and 6 are waiting behind the velvet rope, and trust me, they go darker, deeper, and far more tempting than anything you have read so far.
Subscribe to join us on the other side.
Slide in, get comfortable, and come experience the next chapters with the rest of my VIP babes.
I will meet you inside.
