“Are you…” Holly sighs, her shoulders drooping. “Have you changed your mind about me?”
…What?
Have I changed my mind?
HaveIchangedmymind?
Jesus Christ.
Holly’s slung over my shoulder before her next breath, just like Santo’s captive back in the woodland earlier tonight. I slam the door behind us, marching her over to the bed, then wheel away at the last second and aim for the armchair instead.
“Hey!” Holly pounds on my back with her little fists, but she’s laughing too. Kicking and wriggling. “What the hell, Diego!”
When I collapse back into the armchair with her in my lap, she’s red cheeked and grinning. Those arms slip around my neck like the world’s sweetest collar.
“You’re still not scared of me, huh?” I jiggle her on my lap, suddenly enjoying myself way too much. Headache? What headache? “You’re gonna let the mean old mobster put his rough hands on you again?”
“Maybe.” Her saucy little smile—god, it kills me. Makes me want to kiss her and spank her and pet her hair all at once, and I need more goddamn hands. “But I’ll be checking in on the Governor’s daughter, Mr Cedrone. Don’t think I won’t.”
Holly punctuates her words with a stern tap on my nose, and Christ, she’s perfect when she’s bossy. Sitting up all righteous in my lap, back straight and eyes determined.
“Fine by me.” Her pajama pants are brushed cotton, so soft as I stroke my palms up her thighs. She smells like laundry powder and shampoo, and it’s so domestic it warms my aching heart. “I won’t ever lie to you, baby. Not about anything, but especially not something like that.”
Her smile is softer this time. “I know.”
The room is warm, the lighting dim. Glancing around, I’m almost embarrassed by my sparse existence, because there are barely any signs of life in here. It could be mistaken for one of the guest suites—if it weren’t for my wallet, phone and keys on the dresser, and the fallen whiskey glass on the rug.
That’s okay. All the more space for Holly’s stuff to spread, brightening up every corner of my world.
Will she wear this little white robe every night? What aboutjustthe robe, with nothing under it? I tease the belt undone, watching her steadily.
And Holly lets me.
Jesus, she doesn’t just let me. She leans back and shrugs her arms out of the sleeves, then tugs her pajama shirt over her head. Baring her body.
The shirt lands somewhere over by the wall. Her nipples are hard already, dusky pink and delicious, and the minx arches her back, showing off for me.
“Perfect,” I rasp, cupping her. Weighing and squeezing. “Ah, Holly. You’re perfect all over. I knew you would be.”
The room was warm before she came in, but now it feels hotter than a sauna. Or maybe that’s just the way she’s got my heart pounding, my blood rushing through my veins. I’m not stopping to crack a window, that’s for sure; wouldn’t stop if the mansion burned to ash all around us, not now that I’ve got her.
Finally.
“I’m new to this,” Holly murmurs, shifting in my lap. Rubbing her ass over the lead pipe currently trying to burst its way through my boxers, and nibbling on her bottom lip like the world’s biggest tease. “So you’ll have to be patient with me, Diego. I might not be any good.”
“Impossible,” I say immediately, ducking my head to lick her nipple. Sure enough, my girl gasps and squirms against the rasp of my beard, gripping my shoulders for balance, and my mouth curves into a smile against her heated skin. “You feel that, baby? You feel how you respond to me? We were built for this, you and me.”
She’s hot and damp between her legs, scorching through those pajama pants with how badly she wants this. Thank god. I stroke her there for a few minutes, up and down, up and down, until Holly huffs and scrambles off my lap to stand in front of the armchair.
“Notthatpatient,” she grumbles, shoving her pajamas down to her ankles. “I want to know what you feel like inside me before I die of old age.”
“So grouchy,” I tease, already working my belt open. “I’ll have to fuck that temper out of you.”
Her reluctant huff of laughter makes me grin. “Promises, promises.”
It takes some fumbling, in the end. We’re both nervous; both breathless; both panting with how badly we need to feel our bodies sink into each other. And the armchair is cramped and the leather keeps squeaking, but it’s still the best moment of my long, lonely life when Holly positions my cock at her entrance, her thighs trembling.
“Ready?”