by Ivy Carter
His expression darkens, and my skin prickles a little with unease. Maybe it’s my paranoia getting the best of me, but my new concern is that he’s somehow figured out who I am, and is here—
“Collecting on my half of the agreement,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”
Yes. I blow out a breath, steadying my nerves. “It’s not my problem you walked out.”
My tone relays far more confidence than I feel, and Holden knows it. I’m ridiculously transparent.
A water droplet falls between my shoulder blades, reminding me that I’m standing at my door in a robe, soaking wet. Anyone could walk by the room and see me. Holden’s eyes narrow in on my plunging V-neck of cleavage. I can’t close the gap without drawing attention to it.
He takes a step forward.
I move back.
“I’m not coming in unless you invite me, Chelsea,” he says.
“Like a vampire?” I say, in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood.
Good try, but the analogy seems to fit, because Holden grins in a way that flashes his teeth, before gathering me in his arms and pulling me up against his body. I slam into his chest with enough force to gasp. Without looking, he kicks closed my door, spins me around, and pins me to the wall. His hands hold my wrists tight up over my head. I’m so flustered I begin to tremble.
He leans close, close enough for his mouth to graze the side of my neck. “I have been thinking about fucking you all day, Chelsea…” My breath catches. “…and I intend to take what is owed to me.”
My throat is raw. There’s no point in again reminding him that he walked out. His aura is dark, desperate, hungry. Something about that combination turns me on. My entire body vibrates with anticipation and fear.
No matter how frustrated Holden makes me feel sometimes, being with him, touched by him, eases the hurt. What kind of power does he have over me?
Holden’s mouth moves to the side of my jaw, and down the slope of my neck. His teeth nip at the skin, tiny pin pricks that feel like ants biting at my skin. My lips burn with the need to feel his mouth on mine, but Holden bypasses the rest of my face and buries his head into the folds of my cleavage. There’s not time for disappointment. He pushes the robe away from one breast with his forehead and clamps on to my nipple. Again, I cry out, this time louder. He pulls back and blows on my breast, icy cold against the warmth from his mouth. My nipple goes painfully hard. Holden flicks his tongue across it and then moves to the other breast.
My hips writhe against him, but I can’t move. My arms are immobilized by his hold, somehow strong while his mouth teases both nipples into full erection.
I feel his cock harden, thick against my thigh, even through his pants and the terry cloth robe between us. He wedges his knee between my legs and now my hips are immobilized too. I have no choice but to succumb to him.
Holden’s hand goes to my throat. His lips over mine. “Say you want this,” he says.
As if there is anywhere else I’d rather be. I nod, unable to speak, allowing my plaint body to vocalize my assent.
He flicks his tongue across my lips, so fast it tickles. My mouth is like a livewire, buzzing in anticipation. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Holden mashes his lips up against mine. Runs his tongue across my mouth. His hand squeezes gently on my throat, not painful, but territorial. As though a reminder that in this moment, I belong to him.
Maybe I shouldn’t want this, but damn it, I do. My brain and my body are at war, and I just want to raise the white flag and give in. To this. To him. To everything in this moment.
Holden shifts his hand to cup my face, and draws me in for a long kiss. Our tongues and lips fuse until my head becomes light. Without me even realizing it, Holden has guided me to my knees. When he breaks connection, I’m staring at his crotch.
I cover it with my mouth, blowing hot air against the material of his slacks.
I lift my gaze and he leans down to kiss me again.
Blindly, I unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper. I stuff my hand into his briefs and pull out his cock, warm and hard and familiar. I imagine my lips wrapped around it.
Holden disengages from our kiss and leans back against the wall, arching his hips toward me, surrendering to his need. I take his cock in my mouth and begin to suck. He moans with approval.
My pulse ratchets up.
Using both my lips and my hand, I run the length of his shaft.
Holden begins to rock his hips, picking up speed as he fucks my mouth. His grips my hair while he pounds me, pushing deeper and fuller between my lips.
I’m hungry to taste him, but he pulls out abruptly and lifts my chin with two fingers. Somehow, his mouth is on mine. My hand stays on his cock, while he aggressively rubs my breast. I’m aware that I’m grunting, moaning, whispering for him to touch me harder, but I don’t care who hears us, or who might be listening outside the dorm door. This is all that matters.
“You’re so thick,” I say, my grip on his cock tightening.
I dip my head lower and take his balls into my mouth, grating my teeth along the ridge of his skin. My hand continues to massage his dick, the rhythm, almost natural now.
“That’s it sweetness,” he says, grunting. “Like that. Just like that.”
I’ve just found the perfect tempo when he pulls me to standing, and turns me around to face the wall. He shoves my robe up over my hips to reveal my bare ass, and cups my buttocks. His cock wedges between my thighs.
“You want me inside you?”
I breathe out a yes.
He slaps my ass with a quick flick of his wrist. My skin burns like it’s on fire. I begin to pant. “Do it again.”
Holden’s hand slaps against me, a little harder this time and I cry out. I think he might take me right here, fuck me up against the wall. But instead he lifts me by my butt and carries me to the couch. There he bends me over the edge, exposing my naked and stinging ass.
Somewhere in my mind I realize I should have put a sock on the door and that Lindsay could walk in at any minute, but the danger of being caught just amps up my desire. My entire body tingles, and when Holden’s tongue drags across my buttocks, I flinch from the shock.
One hand moves between my legs to finger my pussy, while the other grips my hip, pinning me to the sofa. His mouth moves across my ass, precariously close to my anus. I suck in a sharp gasp. Surely he won’t lick my—
Before I can even register what’s happening, Holden flips me around and buries his face in my pussy. My legs are spread wide, his hands on my knees, and I’m struggling to balance on the arm of the sofa. I grab the top of his head for purchase, inadvertently mashing his mouth against my swollen clit.
He pushes one of my legs upward, and I hang on to give him better access. Two of his fingers slide inside my pussy and begin to push in and out. The combination of his mouth and hand working together sets my body aflame. I close my eyes, murmuring with pleasure.
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
“God, yes,” I moan.
“Because I can’t stop thinking about your sweet pussy. All fucking day and night, I keep thinking. And now I’m going to have it.”
“Holy shit,” I groan, my wetness increasing tenfold at his dirty talk.
And then suddenly his cock is inside me.
The shift is so smooth I almost don’t notice it, until he thrusts against me, filling my entire pussy with his dick. My eyes widen in shock.
“Play with your clit while I fuck you,” he commands.
I rub myself while he pumps harder, his expression dark and focused. He is a man possessed by personal demons and this—fucking me—is his exorcism. He grabs my hips and pulls himself in deeper, thrusting and grinding until my climax mounts with increasing urgency.
“Is that how you want it?” he says.
My bottom lip trembles. “Yes. Like that.”
Just like th
at.
He pumps harder and faster and I can feel every muscle in his body tense. “Jesus, fuck, sweetness, you’re going to make me come.”
The words unleash the last of my inhibitions and my orgasm crests, flooding through my pussy with seismic force. I scream out his name, just as his climax releases. His body shudders against mine, trembling and strong, before finally, he falls limp against me. He presses his sweaty forehead against mine.
“I suppose I should have at least taken you to the bedroom.”
My chest swells. “We can still go there.”
His eyes flicker with brief hesitation, before he pulls me off the sofa, and carries me down to the hall, my now discarded robe in a pile at the foot of the couch.
Chapter 14
I roll onto my side and blink open one eye. He’s still there. Naked in my bed, softly snoring after another round of frantic sex. My throat is raw from screaming with each orgasm. And Lord help me, I tried to stop. But even after the third, my body wanted—needed—more.
I fold my hands under my face, careful not to disturb the sheets and wake Holden. It’s the perfect time to study his features, the ones that seem to fade when his eyes are open and piercing my soul. Light stubble peppers his jaw and upper lip. I imagine his face between my legs, that 5 o’clock shadow scraping my skin. And damn, if I don’t already start to get wet.
“I can feel you staring,” Holden says, eyes closed.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
His lips twist into a sexy smile. Moonlight beams through the thin curtains and spotlights his high cheekbone, the ridge of his jaw. I run my hand along it, cupping his chin in my palm. He turns his face to kiss the inside of my hand.
The tenderness of it awakens a fluttering in my stomach.
His eyes open. “I admit, I’m exhausted, but sleep isn’t exactly what I have in mind.”
I can’t help but smile. Whatever darkness drove Holden to my apartment seems to have lifted, and it’s so damn easy for me to slip into whatever fantasy keeps me from overanalyzing this. Whatever this is.
Holden pulls me close, gathering my hair in his hand, and tilts my head upward for a tender kiss that leaves me dizzy with yearning. “Good morning,” he whispers.
“It’s still night,” I say, grinning like a lovesick school girl. I nudge my head toward the clock on the dresser across the room. It’s not even four. I nuzzle into his neck. “Go back to sleep.”
“Impossible,” he says, in that low voice that makes my toes curl. He gently rolls me onto my back and leans over me, elbows on the mattress. His dark hair is slightly messed, standing upright at the back, and his eyes, always mesmerizing, are glassy with lack of sleep. “I’m happy to stay in bed—but sleep? That’s not a priority right now.”
I lick my lips. “Then what is, Mr. Quinn?”
His expression softens, almost unreadable. “Not here, Chelsea. There is no Mr. Quinn on this space. Never here. In your room, your bed.”
My smile goes impossibly wide. “In that case…” I pull his mouth down to mine.
As we kiss, his hands move across my body, slowing tracing each curve. I’ve always considered myself a bit of a tomboy, my frame somewhat rectangular shaped, despite an ample bosom. Somehow under Holden’s touch, it’s like I’ve become an hour glass, each curve pronounced and surreal.
Holden cups my breast and runs his thumb across my nipple, teasing it erect before giving the other some attention. My palms skim his shoulders, slide down his arms, and then along his ribcage down to his hips.
His cock hardens against my thigh.
I arch my back against the slow, torturous path of his mouth. There is less urgency than before, and it allows him to give each part of my body equal attention. His breath is warm, his lips cool. I close my eyes and give in to the pleasure.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, sweetness?”
My throat goes raw with emotion.
Holden kisses my stomach. “I want to spend hours showing you. Will you let me?”
It’s like my heart is a bomb, each tender kiss, or sweet word ticking another second off the clock, counting down to an explosion of pleasure. I curl my body into the mattress, further tangling the sheets around my calves and ankles. My fingernails scrape against Holden’s back.
He shifts ever so slight, so that his cock is up against the entrance of my pussy. I’m so wet I can smell the muskiness, its potent scent merging with cinnamon spice and the hint of vanilla.
I wrap my legs around his hips at the moment he enters me.
One of his hands comes around to cup my ass, while the other tangles up in my hair. We are so close, I can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat. The purr from his throat as we begin to move in tandem.
Our bodies undulate together in a slow, but steady rhythm. I tilt my head back, and Holden kisses my throat. His tongue trails across my jaw, and then dips between my lips. I grip the back of his head and hold his mouth to mine as the first ripple of pleasure pulses from me.
I squeeze my legs on his hips and arch toward him, driving his cock deeper into me. My pussy clenches, releases, and then tightens as I begin to climax in full. The orgasm rolls through me, the ebb and flow so different than before. Goosebumps ripple across my flesh.
My voice is so soft, I almost don’t hear myself whispering, can hardly make out the words as I beg Holden to come.
Somewhere, in the middle of my incredible climax, Holden’s body tenses and I am filled with his release, my name the last thing on his lips. Minutes later, I look up at his mouth, at the curve of his smile, and with a light heart, allow myself to drift into dreamland.
Chapter 15
When I wake for the second time, my eyes lock on the empty pillow beside me. A ripple of panic runs up and down my spine. Holden is not in bed. I pat the sheet, cool to my touch, and my heart leaps into my throat.
He left? When?
Of course, he would. What reason would he have to stay the night? I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to cry. How stupid of me to think he would still be here come morning light. Was it all a dream?
I grab the pillow next to me and sniff, finding relief in his familiar scent. Not a dream…
I sit upright at the sound of a low voice. At first, I assume it’s one of Lindsay’s newest conquests, and I flop back on the mattress, covering my face with the pillow. I so don’t have the energy to meet another of Lindsay’s boy toys right now, not with the memory of Holden’s touch so imprinted in my mind.
But then the voice comes again, louder, and I realize it belongs to Holden.
The brief spike of relief that shoots through me is tempered by fear, when I also realize that he’s in the kitchen…talking to my roommate. Shit.
I bolt out of bed and fumble into a pair of shorts and tank. It hits me that my robe is in a puddle in the living room, and we had sex on the couch—the very same couch I gave Lindsay a hard time about having sex on. My cheeks are hot and I know they’re burning red. I’m nervous about the questions Lindsay will ask, but more than that, I’m scared about what she might be telling Holden right now.
Lindsay doesn’t know everything about my past, but she knows enough that Holden could catch me in a lie.
My chest tightens and I struggle to breathe.
The thought of losing him is debilitating. Crippling. Which is ridiculous. I don’t even know him—but I care. Way more than I should. And with that realization comes another, more shocking truth: I have to come clean about who I am.
Today.
No good relationship starts with a secret. That’s practically Dating 101. And it makes sense. The lie taints everything before it even gets started. How do you trust again? Or at all? Maybe Holden isn’t ready to walk down the aisle, but last night certainly took us beyond the neat and tidy parameters of our current agreement. It’s messy and unstructured and totally…
What I want.
I float into the kitchen, both relieved an
d nervous to find Holden and Lindsay laughing over something. His chuckle is like liquid lava running through my core. Lindsay tops up his coffee, spots me, and raises a perfectly-manicured eyebrow. “Well, good morning sunshine.”
Lindsay cups her coffee close to her chest and addresses Holden, as if I’ve interrupted their conversation and she’s merely getting back to it. “You’re a pilot, right?”
Liquid jealousy bubbles just under my skin. Figures Lindsay would know a lot about Holden—who hasn’t heard of New York’s most eligible bachelor?—but it should have been me that said it. I don’t like the way her eyes have glassed over either, or the way Holden is staring at her, like he’s pleased she knows that.
I shake my head, flinging out the cobwebs of envy. Sure, Lindsay looks like a damn supermodel with her “just woke up” tousled hair, but she wasn’t the one Holden spent all night pleasuring. That is what I need to hang on to, even if it’s a thin thread of hope.
“Yes. Maybe someday I’ll take Chelsea on one of my jets,” Holden says, drawing my attention back to the actual conversation and not the dialogue of doubt in my brain.
“I’ve never flown anywhere,” I say. Mom and I drove, bussed, or took the train. Flying was too expensive, and always felt riskier. Like people would notice us in line at security. I hate that my father’s actions made us live like fugitives.
Holden looks at me seriously. “We’ll have to change that.”
My stomach does a double flip. Holy fuck he’s adorable, and again, I’m dragged from my dark thoughts and dropped into this fantasy.
Lindsay clears her throat, a reminder that she’s there. For a split second, I thought—dreamed?—it was just me and Holden, conversing over coffee in our apartment…
“So, er, I should go shower or something…” Lindsay says.
Our gazes meet, and in hers, I find all kinds of questions. I know she’s hurt I haven’t mentioned Holden, but even in this moment, I’m not sure what to say. Holden drains the rest of his coffee and stands. “I’d better get going.” He shakes Lindsay’s hand. “It was nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” And then to me, “Walk me to the door.”