My legs stiffen. I can feel the stickiness of my juices on the inside of my thighs. My breasts swell as I press my body against Holt’s face.
He licks and sucks and gives one hundred percent of his attention to my engorged pleasure point. He treats it like an oasis in the middle of the desert—as though he can’t get enough.
I can’t think anymore. I can’t give him hell, or tell him how amazing it feels, or beg him to keep going. My teeth clench together as the pent-up sexual tension builds and builds and …
I explode all over his face.
I shriek at the almost pain of the orgasm. He responds to my cues and continues to suckle my body. I feel full, so full, and so very wet.
My body hums with total satisfaction. Completely spent, my head falls to the side.
Holt places a final kiss against the inside of my thigh before pulling away.
I shudder as the intensity takes a few moments longer to wane.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
I look down. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, wiping his face with his discarded shirt.
“It was worth the wait,” I say.
He grins. “Good to hear. Now come here.”
“I’m too tired.”
He grabs me by my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed. He makes quick work of putting on a condom.
“I could fuck you all night,” he says, “but I think you’ve had enough.”
“I don’t want to have had enough.”
He chuckles. “You sure? Because I can put you to bed and call it a night.”
“Not yet,” I say. “Just a little more.”
He flips me over onto my stomach and gets behind me. I’m so wet that he slides into me with ease.
My body spasms around his rock-hard length. “Holt … Shit!”
“Damn, baby,” he groans as he presses into my body.
He fills me, taking a moment to let me adjust to his size. It’s deliriously wonderful and the feeling of his hands gripping my waist is inherently sexy.
He wants me as bad as I wanted him. I can feel it in the way he moves me and the way he watches me. There’s something so heady about it that I can’t help but feel a bit seductive.
My hands are extended in front of me. My ass is up in the air. My brain is, for the first time in a long time, unable to overthink anything. It’s in a muted state of bliss as Holt fucks me from behind.
“Do you want to come again?” he asks through gritted teeth. “Because, if not, this is going to be over soon.”
“I can’t.”
I’ve basically never stopped.
“Okay then.”
It takes just a few more strokes before I hear him growl. He grips me for dear life as his cock swells inside me. I keep my ass tilted up for him.
Finally, he pulls out. I fall to the mattress immediately, my body and mind depleted from the day. The clock beside the bed shows that it’s well after three in the morning.
I hear the rustle of the trash can and the sound of running water. I’m nearly asleep when Holt comes back in again.
He picks me up and lays me properly on the bed. The mattress dips as he climbs on beside me.
I jump as a warm washrag touches my still-sensitive slit, and my eyes dart open.
He grins. “I can’t let you go to sleep all dirty.”
“I need a shower,” I say, my eyes filling with sleep again.
He tosses the rag onto the floor and curls up behind me. Through my haze, I think he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“Sleep, sweetheart,” he whispers in my ear.
And that’s the last thing I remember as I doze off.
Twenty-One
Holt
Moonlight drifts through the drapes that didn’t get closed.
I’ve told myself for the past hour that I’m going to get up. I need to clear my head and get myself together. That won’t happen as long as I lay next to Blaire and continue to run my fingers through her long, silky locks.
But I don’t. I can’t quite force myself to leave her in my bed.
Her hair is tangled from sweat and sex. Every time my fingers find a new little knot, I gently work it out … and wonder what the fuck is happening.
What am I doing?
I sigh, letting my head sink farther into the pillows.
Blaire rustles next to me. Her cheek moves against my chest, her arm rubbing against my abs as she rearranges her position. I hold my breath and hope she doesn’t pull away. Because while I know this isn’t where I need to be, it’s where I am.
It’s where I want to be. And I don’t know how I feel about that.
What is it really hurting? I’ll have plenty of time in the morning with Oliver to make up for lost time.