Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
If it’s a show he wants, a show is what I’ll give him.
I rock into him again, this time harder. Holden groans, but words seem to fail him as I press myself against him. I lean back, my ass seated on his thighs, palms braced on his legs behind me. Holden lifts my sweatshirt, watching my tits bounce as I ride him. I quickly pull it off altogether. His gaze lowers to where we’re connected, and we both watch as I start to work my hips. I move slow at first, but it doesn’t last long. I angle my pelvis down, trying to reach that friction where I need it and grind against him. I go from freezing cold to burning up in record time, thanks to the fire. Thanks to Holden. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my back, and then his other hand comes into play, finally. He uses his free hand to press his cock where I need it most, and the one on my waist starts to help guide my movements when they get a little sloppy. I can feel it building. My eyes squeeze shut, head falling back. My thighs and upper arms are tense, muscles burning. I’m right on the edge, and it takes me by surprise. Not just that it’s happening so quickly, but that it’s happening at all. Am I really about to have an orgasm from essentially dry humping a guy I don’t even like?
“Look at how pretty your pussy looks with my cock between your lips,” Holden says. “Spread your legs wider. Let me see it.”
His words only add to the pleasure coursing through me. I do as he says, opening my thighs wide as I reach forward, curling my hand around the back of his neck for leverage.
“Fuck, you’re going to make me come,” he grinds out as his other hand flies to my hip, both of them working together now. Sweat rolls down his temple and his eyebrows tug together, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. He’s fucking beautiful. And apparently, some sort of magician, because I feel my second orgasm in as many days start to tear through me.
I bite down on his shoulder to muffle my cry as I break apart in his lap, hips still grinding into him. Holden abruptly lifts me off him too soon, and lays me onto my back, using his hands to keep my knees spread. I can barely see him with his back to the fire, but I know he can see me—all of me—at this angle. But I’m past caring, still shuddering when I feel him spill onto my stomach.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “I want to feel that from the inside.” His meaning doesn’t register until I feel his finger there, just barely inside me as I continue to contract around the tip of it. I bring my knees together in a belated attempt at modesty, but Holden stops me. He pulls his finger from me, spreading my wetness around before he brings it to his mouth and sucks it clean.
“Merry Christmas, Sweet Valentine.”
Valen
He collapses onto his back next to me, and we both lie silent as we catch our breath. After a minute or two, Holden gets up without a word. I watch as he walks toward the downstairs bathroom, naked and illuminated by the fire. I hear a clatter, then a curse, telling me he knocked into something, thanks to the lack of light, followed by the sound of the faucet running. I cover my face with my hands, trying not to feel awkward as I wait for my turn to clean up.
I don’t know what got into me. No, that’s a lie. I know exactly what got into me. I was dreaming of Holden while sleeping next to him. I’ve had sex dreams before, but none that felt so real. I woke up feeling like I was on the brink of an orgasm, heart pounding,
“Having regrets already?” Holden quips, sounding much closer than I thought he was. I didn’t even hear him return. I flinch when I feel a warm, wet cloth pressed between my legs before he drags it upward to my stomach. My hands fall away from my face, and I look down to see Holden inspecting me as he cleans me thoroughly.
“I can do that,” I say—pressing my thighs together—but he ignores me, making sure he gets every drop. Once he’s finished, he walks back over to the bathroom, presumably to dispose of the washcloth, and then he lies back down like nothing ever happened. I roll my eyes at his casual demeanor. Refusing to show the awkwardness I’m feeling, I sit up, patting the floor in search of my shirt. I tug it over my head, only to realize it’s Holden’s shirt when it falls to the middle of my thighs. Whatever. Better than nothing. I stand and make my way to the bathroom. I don’t know why I do—it’s not like I can do much without light—but I need a minute to myself.