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)
“I mean it, Holden.” I rock into his hand. “This is a one-night thing. We tell no one. Then we go back to hating each other.”
“Mhm.” His lips find my neck, catching my skin between his teeth as he fucks me with his fingers. No longer able to form words or the will to argue, I give up the fight. Nothing but the wet sounds of his fingers pumping inside me and our ragged breaths fill the air. He moves lower, his hot mouth covering my nipple before sucking softly. My fingers slide into his hair as I arch into him.
“Holden, please.”
He releases my nipple with a pop, his fingers sliding from me. I instantly feel their absence. “Please, what?” He starts to move lower again, and when I realize his intent, I tighten my hold on his hair. He pauses his descent, his chin on my chest as he looks up at me.
“I don’t need that. I just need you to fuck me.”
He captures my wrists in his hands, stretching my arms above my head. “It’s about time you admit it,” he says, adjusting his grip to hold both my wrists in one hand. His free hand reaches in between our bodies. I look down in time to see his palm wrap around his impressive length and drag the thick head of his dick between my lips. I squirm against his hold, unable to take any more of this teasing, but he tightens his grip on my wrists in silent warning. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?”
“Don’t get too excited. The fantasy is always better than reality.” My words aren’t meant to be anything more than a snappy retort, but the way he pauses for a minute and stares down at me has me wondering if he heard the underlying fear in them.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Spread your legs for me, Sweet Valentine.”
I do so without hesitation, and then he pushes forward, filling me slowly. He groans, sounding almost pained. My mouth falls open on a silent scream as I adjust to the feeling of Holden inside of me, stretching me inch by inch. Once he’s fully inside, he holds himself there, looking down at me with the most intense expression I’ve ever seen him wear. I wonder if it matches my own. Surreal is the only word I can use to describe this feeling after years of back and forth.
My arms are still stretched above my head, the tips of my fingers numb under his tight grip. I wiggle my hips, needing him to move, and then his fingers are digging into my hip, anchoring me in place as he pulls out and thrusts back in. This time it’s not gentle or careful. His movements aren’t hurried but rough, almost desperate, and exactly what I need.
“Yes,” I breathe. I should feel anxious trapped under him, rendered immobile like this. But it has the opposite effect. All I can do is lie here and take what he gives me. To give in to this inexplicable pull I feel toward him. He looks down at me, his jaw clenched tight as he pumps into me.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he says so quietly, I don’t know if he meant to say it out loud. His flattery, along with the way he’s fucking me, has me clenching around him. I know he can feel it because he lets out another curse, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re killing me,” he says, pulling back. Not wanting him to sever our connection, I plant my feet on the mattress, my lower back lifting as I grind up into him. I slide along his length, up and down, my clit pressing into his lower stomach with each tilt of my hips. His mouth falls open, letting me fuck him from the bottom, his hand still securing my wrists, as if to give himself some semblance of maintaining the upper hand.
“Valen,” Holden says, his voice strained. “Wait.” He releases me abruptly, pulling out. I collapse against the mattress, heart pounding. I feel myself clenching and releasing around nothing, my impending orgasm throbbing like a heartbeat between my legs. When I look up at him with daggers in my eyes, he’s rolling the forgotten condom down his length.
Shit. At least one of us is thinking straight.
Standing at the side of the bed, he leans forward, curling his hands around the tops of my thighs, yanking me to the edge. “Now where were we?” He fills me without hesitation, his fingers biting into my inner thighs. His thrusts are deep but slow, his gaze locked on to where we meet.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? To see your pussy stretched around me like this?”
Words like that would usually make me feel hyper aware of my body, of my movements, like I have a fantasy to live up to. Like I need to perform. But I’m too caught up in the way he feels inside me to care about anything else. His grip moves from my thighs to my hips, lifting my ass off the mattress to meet him thrust for thrust. My breasts bounce with each punch of his hips, his top teeth raking over his bottom lip as his eyes zero in on the movement.