by K. A. Linde
“Now,” Hollin said.
It was a command. There was no question in his voice. No room for disagreement. I could try, but, fuck, I didn’t want to.
So, I slowly spread my legs under the covers.
“Piper?” His voice returned to a gentle coaxing. “Did you do it?”
I closed my eyes and whispered, “Yes.”
“Good. That’s a good girl.”
I huffed at the words. The ones that I’d loved so much after we had sex last weekend. And now, here I was…wanting to hear them all over again.
“Imagine my hands are running down your body, over your tits, down your stomach.”
I put Hollin on speaker and did as he’d said. I touched myself where he’d told me to touch, and with his voice in my ears and my eyes closed, I could almost feel his hands on me and not mine.
“Slip into your panties,” he said, “and tell me how wet you are for me.”
A groan escaped my lips as I ran a finger through my slicked wetness. “So wet.”
He grunted, and for a second, I imagined him in his own bed at home, his giant cock out of his jeans, his fist wrapped around it. The fierce pumping as he worked himself up to meet the sound of my moans.
The thought turned me on even more. I’d replayed what we’d done a lot, but I hadn’t considered him jacking off to the memory of me bent over for him.
“Tell me how you get off when you’re alone,” he told me.
“I…” A flush hit my cheeks. “I work my clit in slow circles.”
“Yes,” he said as I did exactly what I’d told him.
“I slip a finger in and out of my pussy to build up the pleasure.”
“Do it. Imagine my fingers thrusting into you.”
My head tipped back as I used my own fingers to draw me closer to climax. “I think about you holding me down.”
A thud on the other side of the line. “Fuck, Piper.”
He sounded breathless. As if we were in the same room, breathing the same heated air, drinking down the same euphoric energy. Everything in me wanted to release for him, wanted to feel his fingers inside of me, his mouth on my clit, his hand braced against me.
“What do you think about?” I asked boldly.
“You begging me not to take you slow.”
I moaned at the words as everything drew in sharper.
“Me slamming my cock deep into your pretty pink pussy.”
I picked up speed to match his filthy words. If I didn’t have his voice in my ear, I would have pulled out my vibrator and fucking finished it already. I would have wanted the sweet release. But with his gravelly voice and the soft smacking sound of him working his cock, I couldn’t help but want to drag it out. To feel like he was actually there, holding off my orgasm until he said I could have it.
“Your handprint on my ass?” I asked in a half-gasp.
“Fuck yes, babe. Fuck,” he said. “I don’t want you to be able to walk for days after I’ve finished with you.”
I worked faster and faster. Something peaked inside of me, and everything was hazy. My orgasm came harder and faster than I’d expected it. I couldn’t even stall it out. It was a tidal wave. Everything in me contracting and releasing all at once.
I moaned out my orgasm as I came undone.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” he said. “Did you just come?”
“Yes,” I gasped.
And then I heard him grunt on the other line as he came undone. We weren’t in the same room. We were miles apart. And yet it was like having him emptying himself inside of me all over again.
“That was…wow,” he finally said. “I came hard.”
“Me too,” I whispered, slow and sleepy. I crashed back on the bed, curling into a ball. Sleep crept up on me out of nowhere. I hadn’t even been tired before.
“You sound tired,” he said.
“Mmm.”
“Did I fuck all the anger out of you again?”
I merely swatted at him as if he were there and not on the other end of the phone. “Shush you.”
He laughed softly. “Good. You’re my good girl. Now, get some sleep. Dream about me.”
I didn’t even have it in me to contradict him. I was definitely going to dream about what had just happened.
Part III
I Hate You, I Love You
18
Piper
Hollin was a problem. I hadn’t heard from him since our phone sexcapade, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. In fact, I couldn’t stop dreaming about him. As if his last command had lingered long past that first night. Hung on by a thread strung between us that I didn’t understand in the slightest.
I’d done everything that I could to not think about him. I’d gone for a run with Blaire, who’d looked at me like I was nuts since I hated running. I’d worked myself to the bone. I’d even volunteered to handle the weekly booth at the Lubbock Farmers Market.
Sinclair Cellars had a permanent booth at the market. Usually, we rotated who was in charge of it. We each took a weekend and blocked it out on the calendar. But when one of our workers, Eliza, had tried to get out of going so that she could see her boyfriend in Amarillo, I’d jumped at the chance to do anything but sit around and obsess all Saturday morning.
Eliza had promised to take one of my shifts to repay me. My dad had asked me if I was feeling well. I’d ducked my head and acted like everything was fine. I couldn’t explain anyway.
So, that was how I was standing in the brisk April morning weather with a Sinclair Cellars jacket tight around my shoulders, waiting for the sun to break through the unusual morning clouds. Lubbock had sunshine ninety percent of the year, and I never looked forward to the weird gloomy weather in the spring.
The best part of working the booth though was seeing all my friends and regulars of the winery. We brought six of our most popular wines—three red and three white—and gave out samples all day. People stopped by for tasting and to purchase wine and Sinclair Cellar apparel. Today, of all days, Peter had agreed to show up to help me.
“You never work the booth,” I accused.
My twin brother rolled his eyes. “I do, too.”
“When?”
“When Dad makes me work it with him.”
I snorted. “Naturally. So, why are you here today?”
“Dad made me work it with you.”
“Of course he did.”
“Hey, haven’t you missed me?” He hip-checked me as he pulled out another bottle of our merlot, uncorking it like a pro.
“Sometimes. What have you been up to anyway? You and Chester too busy to hang with the likes of us?”
“Chess and I are too busy having sex,” he deadpanned.
“Good for you.”
“I’m kidding,” he said with a laugh and then added, “Sort of.”
“Typical.”
Peter worked for Sinclair Cellars when he was in between his other gigs. He was a freelance writer. He did whatever work he could, but he always enjoyed working on comic books. He’d designed his own when he was ten and never broken the habit. His collection of comics was utterly impressive. But sometimes, the writing jobs were outstanding, and sometimes, everything dried up. He had to be in a bit of a desert if he was here with me today.
“No writing jobs?” I guessed.
He shrugged. “It’s a volatile market. I’ll get more work soon. But…I’m thinking of asking Chess to move in.”
“Doesn’t he already live there all the time?”
“Well, yeah, but officially.”
“That’s great. You never got there with Jeremy,” I said of his last boyfriend.
“Definitely not. We would have killed each other. And Chess is brilliant and stable and out to his parents. So, it’s going good.”
“I like to hear that.”
“And you?” he asked. “I heard about Bradley. And I got no phone call.”
I laughed as I offered wine to a couple. After they were gone, I turned back to him. “Sorry. Ol
d news. He was going to propose.”
“Peyton said that.”
“Yeah. Big clusterfuck there. I wasn’t going to marry him.”
“Dating anyone now?” he asked.
And when I looked up, Hollin Abbey was striding toward the Sinclair Cellars booth. My stomach dropped. He looked so fucking good. Like a tatted cowboy. And never in a million years would I have thought that would be my type, but here I was, salivating over Hollin in Wranglers, a fitted white T-shirt that showed off the length of his sleeve, brown cowboy boots, and a Stetson.
“Medina,” he said as he stepped up to our booth.
“Hi.”
Peter shot me a twin look and held his hand out to Hollin. “Hey, man.”
“How’s it going, Peter?”
Peter gestured to the wine before him. “So-so. You want to try the wine?”
Hollin’s blue eyes met mine. “I’ll take a red. Not quite a Wright vintage, is it?”
I rolled my eyes as I poured him the merlot. “You’re right. It’s better.”
“Heard y’all entered the same competition,” Peter said.
“We did,” Hollin said. “We’re rivals.”
“How nice of you to say. Last time, you called me the enemy.”
Peter chuckled. “Sounds right.”
“He wouldn’t even let me try the wine he submitted for the contest.”
Hollin grinned. “All in good fun. If you want to come by sometime, I could let you sample it.”
Our eyes met, and my stomach flipped. Why did I feel like we’d suddenly stopped talking about wine?
“Amazing,” Peter said. “You two can be civilized with each other.”
“We can. Can’t we, Piper?” Hollin asked.
I forced a fake smile on my face. “Were you going to buy wine or commandeer the table?”
“I’ll take a bottle of the merlot.”
Peter nodded, glancing at me. “I’ll get that together.”
Peter disappeared into the trailer we had set up behind our booth, where we kept the majority of the wine. We only kept a bottle or two in front of us at any given time after a catastrophe last year when a car had literally crashed through the market and we’d lost the entire stock.
With Peter safely away for a minute, I could drop my fake smile. “Come to make small talk?”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I hadn’t planned to come. One of our employees had to go to Amarillo. So, here I am.”
He nodded. “And with that cheery disposition, I bet you’re selling so much wine.”
“Luckily, my resting bitch face doesn’t sell the wine,” I said flatly. “The wine sells itself.”
Hollin chuckled and leaned against the table. “Are you coming to my birthday party tonight?”
His birthday party? Fuck, someone had mentioned that to me, but that was today?
“Today is your birthday?” I asked, my unease dissipating.
He held his arms out. “Yep. Big 3-0.”
“Happy birthday,” I said automatically.
“So, party?”
“I’d forgotten that was tonight.”
“I want you there,” he told me.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to be there.”
I frowned and glanced down at the cooling bottles of white sitting in an ice bath and back up at him. “I’d planned to go.”
“Good.” His smile turned dirty, and he pitched his voice low. “Are you going to wear a skirt for me?”
I gulped just as Peter came back, carrying the wine in a gift bag. “Here you go. Cash or card?”
I pulled back without answering Hollin’s dirty question. My mind filled with all the things we could do with me in a skirt again. Which was exactly what he’d wanted.
“Card,” he said and handed it over to Peter.
After he paid, Hollin tipped his hat at us. “Thanks for this.”
Then, he returned to his dad, who stood with Nora and August. They were eating burritos and drinking out of cold Coke cans. August held all of Nora’s plastic bags of all the wares she’d acquired at the market. Nora waved when she saw me, and I waved back.
Peter leaned his hip into the booth and crossed his arms. “So, what’s going on with you and Hollin?”
“Nothing,” I said automatically.
“Uh-huh.”
I tipped my head back and blew out a breath. “Is it that obvious?”
“Dude, yes.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Are you fucking?”
“I mean…”
Peter’s eyes widened. “You and Hollin Abbey are sleeping together?”
“Shh,” I gasped, putting my hand over his mouth.
“I’m so jealous.”
My eyes bugged out. “Oh my God, Peter!”
“What? He’s hot in that tall, muscular, cocky sort of way. He’s not bi, is he?”
I covered my eyes and turned away from my brother. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“You could do a lot worse.”
“That’s reassuring,” I said sarcastically.
Peter laughed. “Well, it’s not that I was eavesdropping, but you’d better wear a skirt tonight for his party.”
I smacked his arm. “Peter!”
“What? It was too delicious not to listen in!”
I shook my head at him. Even though he was being ridiculous, it made me happy that he seemed to…approve. He’d never gotten along with Bradley. It was like fitting a square piece in a round hole. It had been years since he’d encouraged me into any kind of relationship. And maybe I’d take his advice and actually wear that skirt.
19
Piper
I wore the skirt.
He’d asked, and it was his birthday. It was silly but putting the skirt on, knowing he’d like it, made me feel pretty. God, I was just like every other girl. Doing stupid stuff for a stupid guy.
I didn’t want to admit that maybe…just maybe…I was starting to like Hollin. We still fought like cats and dogs. But I was going to see him tonight, and my heart was skipping a staccato in my chest. I’d checked and double-checked my outfit. I’d put on my makeup meticulously.
Why? Why was I like this? Why him?
He was going to hurt me. Break my little frozen heart into shards. It should have been enough to keep me away from him. To reinforce the wall between us and never deal with what was inevitable. Yet the wall was crumbling. And I didn’t know how to deal with this new me. The one that said maybe I should give him a chance to prove me wrong. Instead of assuming he’d hurt me.
Blaire, Jennifer, and I arrived at Wright Vineyard for the party. Already, the parking lot was packed full.
“Did Hollin invite everyone in the town?” I asked.
Jennifer shook her head. “That would be Julian.”
“He was in charge of the party?”
“He’s ridiculous. He doesn’t think it’s a party unless it’s over the top.”
Blaire shrugged. “Isn’t he right?”
“I’d kill him if he threw me a party like this,” Jen said.
I laughed. “He knows you better than that.”
“Anyway, this is very Hollin,” Blaire said. “He’s larger than life, and everyone knows him.”
It was Hollin. I hadn’t put it together that it was going to be a birthday party for two hundred. Rather than just the lot of us.
Zach met us at the door. He was a giant of a man, who acted as security for most Wright events. He and Hollin rode motorcycles together. He wasn’t exactly chatty.
He waved us inside. Nora must have had a hand in this because it wasn’t the standard Wright Vineyard affair. Couches had been hauled in to fill the barn space. High-top tables littered the perimeter. There were actual disposable cameras on each of the tables and a few on the bar. That seemed dangerous when people got drunk. A massive blue, green, and white balloon arch with a gold number 30 in the center was in front of the stage.
A few girls in dizzyingly small miniskirts were snapping Instagram pictures posed before it.
“This is…elaborate,” I said.
“That’s what happens when the birthday boy’s sister is an event planner,” Nora said, appearing out of the crowd. She drew each of us into a hug. “Do you like it?”
“It’s incredible,” Blaire said.
“The disposable cameras?” Jennifer asked with a wince. “That sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
“It was Hollin’s idea,” she admitted. “I’ll have someone wade through the number of dick and tit pics we’ll get by the end of the night.”
We all laughed because it was inevitable with this many drunk people in one room. I followed Nora through the crowd. Julian and Jordan were sprawled out on the couches. Annie leaned into Jordan with her diamond engagement ring glittering and on display. August was crushed in next to Tamara, hip to hip, with a space on his other side that Nora must have occupied before she got up to say hi to us. My gaze went to where the birthday boy was seated on a couch, regaling the crowd with some grand story about him and Campbell in LA.
His eyes snagged on me when I came into view. He stumbled on his story, missing his next cue as his eyes raked down my body. Apparently, all that care of getting ready had paid off.
He cleared his throat. “Where was I?”
Julian rolled his eyes. “Something about Campbell getting mobbed.”
“Right. We couldn’t get through, and I ended up shoving a paparazzi guy out of the way. He landed in the crowd, and we ran away as fast as we could. We barely made it upstairs into his hotel. It was a madhouse.”
“Wild,” Tamara said, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.
Nora groaned. “Are you telling that mob story again? Campbell should have known better.”
“He knows better now,” Hollin said.
Jennifer creeped in front of Hollin and settled into Julian’s lap. “Hey.”
Julian pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Blaire nodded toward the bar. “Drinks?”
“Definitely,” I said.
Hollin hopped up out of his seat and followed us to the bar. “Hey, glad y’all made it.”