Page 34 of Knife Thrower

I shake my head. “No.”

When I reposition myself over his cock, he shifts his hips upward, just a fraction of an inch, testing. The movement drags the heavy, rigid length of his erection directly against the seam of my jeans. A hot, sharp spike of arousal cuts straight through the lingering remnants of my panic.

“Would you feel better if you knew I couldn’t touch you?” Cole offers.

I blink, staring down at him. “What?”

“My belt.” He tilts his chin toward his waist. “Take it off. Use it to tie my wrists.”

My eyes dart to his hands resting on the sand, then back to his face. My heart hammers a completely new rhythm. The sheer vulnerability of the offer staggers me. His hands are his weapons, his livelihood, his armor. Offering to bind them removes every single ounce of threat he poses.

My mouth parts on a soundless moan.

Cole catches it.

That arrogant, devastating smirk carves deep into his cheeks, and the tension bleeds out of his jaw, replaced by a dark, hungry heat.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, turning filthy and rough. “Look at that. Your pupils just dilated. That’s exactly what you want.”

My cheeks burn. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not. I’m telling you I like it.” He flexes his fingers in the sand. “It’s kinky. I’m incredibly into it.”

A breathless huff escapes my lips. He flips the trauma response on its head, turning it into a game, a shift in power rather than a broken piece of my brain. He hands me absolute control on a silver platter.

I reach down, and my fingers find the brass buckle of his belt. The metal is warm from his body heat. I flick the prong loose, drag the thick leather through the loops, and pull it free with a sharp snap.

Cole brings his arms up. He crosses his wrists high above his head, sinking the back of his skull into the sand, baring his throat to the moonlight.

I loop the leather around his forearms. The thick hide bites into his skin as I pull the tail end through the buckle, cinching it tight. I test the bind, jerking his wrists. The belt holds perfectly. He can’t move his arms. He is entirely at my mercy.

The last wall inside my chest crumbles to dust.

I unbutton his shirt, dragging the fabric wide, exposing the hard, sculpted muscle of his chest and abdomen. The cold wind hits his skin, making his stomach muscles ripple. I drop my hands to his zipper, dragging it down, the metallic rasp loud over the waves.

I push his pants and underwear down his hips, freeing his cock.

He springs free, thick, heavy, and weeping precum. The sight of him makes my mouth water, and the throb between my own thighs turns agonizing.

I slide off his hips just long enough to strip my own jeans and underwear away, kicking them into the sand. I leave my Henley on, the cold air biting at my bare thighs. Then I climb back over his body and line my wet, aching center directly over the thick head of his cock.

Cole’s breath hitches. His bound hands flex above his head, his knuckles turning white as he fights the instinct to reach for my hips.

I sink down.

The stretch is incredible. He fills me completely, thick and rigid, stretching the tight walls of my pussy until a quiet moan tears out of my throat. I drop my palms flat against his chest, locking my elbows, taking the entire length of him in one long, agonizing glide.

“Fuck, Sloane,” he grinds out, his hips jerking up to meet the downward thrust of my weight.

I set the pace. I lift my hips, pulling nearly all the way off him, before burying him deep inside me again. The friction is perfect. The control is absolute.

I don’t dissociate. I don’t check the exits. I don’t stare at the moon and count the stars to pass the time.

I feel everything. The heat of his skin beneath my palms. The violent thud of his heart. The thick, relentless glide of his cock throbbing inside me.

He thrusts up, matching my rhythm, driving himself deeper with every downward drop of my hips.

“That’s it,” he groans, throwing his head back into the sand. The cords in his neck strain tight. “Take it. Fucking wreck me, Archer.”