Good. That’s where I want her.
Desperate. Begging.
Needing.
I grab her hand, tip my forehead to the room that clearly has a bed, then guide her to it.
She flicks on a bedside lamp, which bathes the room in a soft glow. “I want to see your body.”
“The feeling is completely mutual,” I say, then we begin the slow seduction of taking off clothes.
I go first, undressing her.
Unbuttoning each black button on her blouse.
Touching her soft skin.
Savoring the way goose bumps rise in the wake of my fingers.
Sliding off the red fabric.
Letting it fall to the floor.
“My God, you’re stunning,” I say as I regard the beauty in front of me wearing a red lace bra. “Look at you. Still in your power color.”
She bites her lips, nodding. “Is it working?”
“I feel powerless in front of you,” I say, speaking from the truth of my bottomless desire for her.
Her eyes journey down my frame, landing on the outline of my cock through my jeans. “Funny, Holden. You don’t seem powerless at all.”
I groan savagely as she stares at my erection.
We’re both still for a minute, drinking each other in, gawking shamelessly.
Then we fly.
Clothes come off in a flurry. I tug at my shirt, tossing it onto the floor.
Her eyes pop, and she licks her lips, staring at my chest, my arms, then the small tattoo on my forearm—a tree illustration. “I like that,” she whispers, staring at my ink.
I give her a thorough once-over. “I like everything,” I say as she unhooks her bra, letting it land somewhere.
Her tits are perky and perfect for my hands.
My throat is dry, my chest is a furnace, and I need to get her completely naked. My phone is wedged into my pocket, so I take it out, put it on the nightstand, and then unzip her jeans.
She helps me along, kicking them off, and my God, she’s an angel of sex.
With strong arms, a flat stomach, and toned legs, she’s every bit the athletic type I can’t get enough of. A woman who knows how to use her body hits all my buttons. I want to explore every inch of her curves and muscles. “Your body needs worshipping. With my tongue,” I say, then I pick her up, carry her to the bed, and set her down.
She points at me, making a circle with her finger. “Can you make those jeans disappear?”
I wiggle my brow. “What do you know? That’s one of my many tricks.”
A few seconds later, my jeans pool on the floor, my boxer briefs joining them as my cock reports for duty.
Her mouth falls open, like my dick transfixes her.
I’m well aware that men are obsessed with what hangs between their legs. That we think we can command cars, rockets, and the world’s nuclear arsenals with our cocks.
But there is nothing sexier than when the woman you want stares at your hard cock, knowing she made it that way, that this hard-on is a compliment to her.
Reese gazes at my dick like she appreciates the salute my erection is giving her for turning me all the fuck on.
Well, I sure as shit appreciate revving her engine. We both do that to each other, judging by the flush on her chest, the heat in her eyes.
And, as she shimmies down her panties, by the glistening wetness between her legs.
Yes. That’s where I want to be.
I climb over her, bury my face between her breasts, and kiss these beauties as I plan to make my way down her body so that I can devour all that arousal.
This is no hookup.
This is the start of something I know I’m going to want again and again.
5
Reese
I’ll tell him I’m a virgin.
Soon.
In the next few minutes, I swear.
But right now, it’s too hard to talk because he’s on me and I’m in the moment. Speech is hard. Thoughts start to crumble in my brain, falling to dust.
Right now, I just want to indulge in the masterful way he touches me.
I don’t know where to feel.
Or think.
Or focus.
Because everything is just so earth-shatteringly good.
Is this how sex is supposed to feel? Is this why everyone craves it so much? I haven’t even had it yet, haven’t even had his mouth on me where I want it, but already my body is a neon sign, beckoning him to come inside.
As the moonlight streaks through the window, Holden’s hands skim along my waist, curving over my hips. Kissing me as he goes, the man gives me a double dose of pleasure from the sensory overload of his hands and lips.
His fingers graze along my skin, setting off wave after wave of goose bumps in their wake. I’m on fire, all the cells in my body fanning themselves from the heat, melting like a woman in a sauna.
As he goes, he marks me with lips and tongue and sound too.
The noises he makes are so masculine, so hungry. They’re the most erotic music I’ve ever heard—soft moans and dirty rumbles as he kisses my stomach, as he flicks his tongue over my belly button.
His voice grows deeper, more gravelly, as he whispers dirty words against my skin. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, then dips lower.
He hisses out a filthy rasp, “Fuck, Reese.”
I shudder, shaking everywhere with rampant desire, trembling from the intensity of his touch, from the vibrations inside me.
But unsure what he means.
“What? What is it?” I ask, equal parts nervous and wildly turned on. “Is everything okay?”
He lifts his face, his eyes darkened with arousal. “So fucking okay. So much more than okay,” he says, then returns to his ministrations.
Licking and kissing my hips, teasing along the V of my legs, traveling closer, tantalizingly closer to my center. Making me moan and arch with his every move.
If scientists tested my blood right now, they’d find off the chart arousal. They’d say they’d never seen levels so high. They’ll need a new scale to measure the lust coursing through me.
This is everything I imagined. This is more than I imagined.
His hands curl possessively around my hips, gripping me. He runs his nose along my mound, then breathes out. “God, you taste so good. And you smell so fucking incredible,” he says, then kisses me.
Right there.
Where I want him.
Groaning savagely as he licks my wetness, Holden flicks his tongue up and down my center, then sucks on the hard nub of my clit, driving me wild.
Gah.
My brain is fried. My thoughts are toast.
I just can’t.
I can’t do anything but give in, let go, and move my body in tandem with his mouth, his noises, his hands.
My legs fall open, and my hands fly to my head, like that’s how I’m going to hold on to earth as he sends me soaring into the stratosphere.
I arch. I writhe.
Panting loudly, I cry out as I rock my hips against his face, shoving my hands deeper into my hair, holding on for dear life.
I can barely withstand the onslaught of pleasure.
“I’ve never . . .” I moan, but it’s barely audible.
I can’t form words.
I can’t—physically can’t—tell him I’ve never come with another person before.
Assembling syllables in an order that makes sense is impossible given the way he’s undoing me, how he’s taking me apart, lick by lick, kiss by kiss, flick by flick.