Smoking Holt

by Sabrina York

  He was nothing if not flexible.

  After they’d loaded dishes in the dishwasher, and all the pots and pans were piled in the rack, they hung out together in the great room, listening to music and talking. Cam and Kristi sat together on the loveseat while Bella and Holt sat side by side on the sofa. She loved the weight of his arm over her shoulders.

  It was relaxing. It was congenial. It was nice.

  She felt cosseted and warm and drowsy.

  But when Kristi yawned, everything in her perked up.

  That might have had something to do with Holt’s sudden tension. “It’s getting late,” he murmured.

  “Is it?”

  Damn Cam.

  “It is.” Kristi yawned again, but Bella could tell it was a fake yawn. She patted Cam’s thigh. “We should probably go to bed.”

  “But it’s not so late…” Cam trailed off when he caught Kristi’s heavy-lidded expression. He jumped up from the sofa. “Yeah. Man. Am I beat.” He stretched hugely.

  Again, totally fake. Neither of them could act worth a shit.

  Bella couldn’t have cared less.

  “Well, sleep tight,” Kristi said as she took Cam’s hand and led him to the basement door.

  “You too,” Holt responded.

  Bella didn’t understand the thread of amusement in his voice. She glanced up at him. “What?” she asked.

  His lips quirked. “She said ‘sleep tight.’”

  “So?”

  “So…I was just thinking about those restraints in your suitcase.”

  Bella froze. Her pulse surged. Her womb clenched.

  All of a sudden, the casual, laidback energy between them turned into an electric hum.

  “You, um, you weren’t thinking of tying me up, were you?”

  He threaded his fingers through her hair. “Of course I was. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I laid eyes on those straps. But…” He kissed her. Hard on the mouth. “I’ll only do it if you beg me to.”

  She snorted. Which was awkward. He was still kissing her, after all. “If I beg you to?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to beg you to?” Though the prospect didn’t horrify her the way it had when they’d first discussed it. That, in itself, should have horrified her.

  “You’ll beg because you want it.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes, Bella. Deep down, you want it. You crave that sense of helplessness.”

  She frowned at him. “I do?”

  “Yep. Let me tell you what it would be like.” He tucked her back into his arms, against his chest and stroked her back as he spoke. “First, your punishment.”

  “My punishment?”

  “Did you forget I owed you one?”

  “For what?”

  “The egg.”

  She grunted. Yeah. She’d dropped the egg. Though she’d had good reason. Although she’d come to realize good reason hardly counted in his games.

  “I’m going to have you bend over—completely naked and hold onto your ankles while I work you over. Then, once your ass is nice and red, you’ll stand. I’ll command you to lace your fingers behind your neck and hold still while I continue…”

  “Continue?”

  “Mmm hmm. There are other things that need paddling.” His palm drifted to her heated crotch. He rubbed her clit through the seam of her jeans. She set her teeth together to hold back a groan. Damn. Damn, damn.

  “When I feel you’ve been punished sufficiently, I’m going to tie you to the bed—”

  “You are?”

  “Once you beg me, of course. Once you beg me, I’ll tie you to the bed and tease you.”

  “T-tease me?”

  “Yes. And you’ll be completely helpless. At my mercy.”

  She shivered. Why this talk was turning her on, she had no idea.

  “I’ll start with your nipples, which will be sore, tender—”

  “They will be?”

  “Mmm hmm.” His light touch skated over her nape, down her arm, around to scrape over a swollen crest. His other hand was still nested in the crux of her thighs. He gave her a dual pinch. She shuddered. “I’ll be paddling them too. Like I did this morning.”

  She swallowed. “Uh huh.”

  “And then I’ll make my way down your body. Tickling you a little. You are ticklish, aren’t you my Bell?”

  Her pulse lurched. In her clit.

  “Then, I’ll torment you.” Hell. He was tormenting her now. “I’ll eat your pussy. Slowly. Diligently. Until I drive you crazy. Until you’re thrashing and moaning and pleading for mercy. But I won’t let you come.”

  “You-you won’t?”

  “No. You’ll be tugging against the restraints. Wild. Crazed. Mad with lust and I’ll keep teasing you. I might slip a finger inside, but it will be just now and again, and leave you aching for more.”

  Shit. She was aching for more now. And he hadn’t even started.

  Or maybe he had.

  “And then, if you’re very good, if you’re obedient and do everything I ask, with no hesitation, I might fuck you.” He ended on a whisper, as though he was as wrapped in the fantasy as she. But…

  “Holt?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What if…”

  “Yes?”

  “What if I ask you to untie me?”

  “I will.” He cupped her cheeks and tipped her head and stared into her eyes. “Immediately.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes.” A sigh. On a breath. As he kissed her gently, softly, reverently. “I promise.”

  It was a rarity, a man who kept his promises.

  But Bella didn’t ask to be released from her bonds until they were both covered in sweat and exhausted and utterly sated.

  He’d been right.

  She had loved being tied, helpless, in those devious restraints as he worked her over, finding new places to touch, tease, torment. Places she’d never thought of as erotic before. Now every part of her body was an erogenous zone, from the backs of her knees to the small of her back to the little knob on the side of her foot.

  He’d kissed, licked, explored her—everywhere.

  And then, when she could take it no more, when her wails were rising to air-horn proportions, he rearranged her restraints—just a hook here, a clasp there, splaying her open—and he fucked her.

  There was something about it—the restriction of her bonds, the dominion he exerted over her as he slid in and out at his own pace, taking her slowly, deliberately, with excruciating precision—that released a wild woman within her. She had no control over anything, but absolute control over everything.

  She’d never felt so completely…possessed.

  And her orgasm? It had been sublime.

  It seemed illogical, incomprehensible, that each one could get better, stronger, more profound. But they did.

  After the passion waned, he released her and kissed the little marks on her wrists and ankles and legs. Then he gently turned her over and caressed her still-burning ass. With a practiced hand, he soothed her, brought her back into the world.

  A world that, all of a sudden, didn’t seem so bleak.

  They fell asleep in each others’ arms, wrapped together in a bed that was far too small for both of them.

  They awoke sometime in the night and made love again, gently, tenderly. This time she explored him—everywhere—wreathed in sighs and whispers and deep-throated moans.

  She loved that she could make him beg too.

  Chapter Twelve

  The morning was half gone when Holt finally woke up. Though his neck ached from sleeping on his side all night—or half of it, as the case may have been—Holt didn’t move. He liked the feel of Bella’s bare ass pressed against his cock far too much.

  He liked everything about her. Her soft curves, her grumpy frowns, her snarls. Especially in bed.

  He nearly laughed at the thought, but didn’t. He didn’t want to wake her.


  She’d been amazing last night, submitting to his every command and then taking it a step further. The feel of her lips wrapped around his dick had been un-fucking-believable.

  Despite his determination not to disturb her, his arms tightened and she stirred. She rolled over slowly to face him.

  Ah. She was awake.

  Her eyes were like dark pools, a stunning azure, wreathed in thick black lashes. She studied him without saying a word, and then she reached up and stroked his cheek. “Fuzz,” she commented.

  He watched her lips move, and, because he couldn’t not, kissed her.

  “Morning,” he said. His voice was scratchy. Probably on account of all the howling and growling he’d done last night, fisting the sheets as she fisted his shaft, lapped around his sensitive head then drew him deep into her—

  Yeah. He was hard again.

  She smiled as his cock nudged her hip. “Morning Lambchop.”

  He grimaced through a grin. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a sock puppet.”

  “You could be my sock puppet.” She stilled as the words slipped out. Something flickered across her expression. It looked like retreat.

  He knew Bella. She wasn’t a runner, but she did close up when things got a little too intimate. A little too raw.

  Hell no.

  She wasn’t retreating. He couldn’t allow it.

  He couldn’t bear to lose her now, not even a bit of her. They’d come too far.

  Last night had been everything he’d ever dreamed of. He wanted nothing more than a lifetime of “last nights.”

  He yanked her against him and kissed her again. She allowed it, but pulled away too soon.

  “We should get dressed.” She said it breezily, though he noticed the tiny lines around her mouth.

  “No, Bella. We should talk.”

  She froze, halfway out of bed, and then sat by his side. He shifted onto his back. Cracked his neck to ease the tightness.

  “What-what do you want to talk about?”

  “Us. This. I think we should.” Hell, everyone would be arriving today. There wouldn’t be much chance for a private chat. Especially once all the girls arrived. They were like a flock of birds when they were all together, chirping away, flying in formation. It would be the guys on one side of the room talking about sports or cars and the girls on the other talking about—whatever it was they talked about. Make up. Or shoes.

  That’s the way it always was.

  He didn’t want things to be the way they’d always been between them. Not anymore.

  “Okay.” She folded her hands, making her look like a schoolgirl waiting for the professor’s instruction.

  He shuttled that image away. If he went in that direction, they’d never get to talking.

  “Bella.” He toyed with the ends of her long hair, unsure what to say. He was tempted to let his body say it for him, but that was the coward’s way out. Besides, she might misunderstand. Might miss the depth of his meaning. Better to just come out and say it. “I…like this.”

  Damn. Like wasn’t the word he meant.

  But he didn’t dare use that word. Not yet. Too soon. He didn’t want to scare her off.

  She swallowed. Glanced at him, though he could tell it was an effort for her to hold his gaze. “I…like it too.”

  “Even the part where I tied you up?”

  Her expression flickered.

  Shit. He shouldn’t have joked. This was no joking matter.

  He cleared his throat and began again. “I would really like to continue…exploring…things.”

  Her lips tweaked. Shyly. “Even the part where I tie you up?”

  His heart stopped. Not because he was turned on at the thought—though he was, maybe, a little—but because of the warmth, the openness, the acceptance in her eyes. It was what he wanted to see. What he needed to see.

  “Wherever it takes us.” His voice cracked a little. “I’ve always…had a…thing for you.” He stroked her shoulder, her back, her hip. She edged closer.

  “See, I was sure you had a thing for Kristi.” She blew out a breath and studied her laced fingers. “I saw you kiss her, you know.”

  He blanched. “You saw me kiss her?”

  “Last month. The last time we were all here together.”

  Oh. Crap.

  He forced a laugh. “Did you see Cam deck me?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, yeah. Right in the kisser. I was drunk. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “You shouldn’t have done it because you were drunk? Or you shouldn’t have done it, period?”

  “Period. She wasn’t the one I wanted to kiss, anyway.”

  “She wasn’t?”

  “No.” He drew her closer. “But I gave up on you long ago. Figured I’d never have a chance.”

  She sighed. Smiled. A little. “I am difficult.”

  “You…can be. But it wasn’t that.” He winked. “I kind of like that.”

  “Then why?”

  The words caught in his throat. God, it was hard to say. “I always…had the sense you disliked me.” It had torn him up, that hint of distain in her expression.

  “I disliked seeing you with other women. Always. Incessantly.”

  Her vulnerability gored him, but he loved that she trusted enough to share it with him. He swore to himself, then and there, he would never, ever let her down. He put his palm over his heart. “As long as we are together Bella, and this I swear, I will not so much as look at another woman.”

  She issued a snort of disbelief. “You have to look at them. Or you’ll bump into them.”

  “Do I have your permission to look at them then?” He batted his lashes. “You know. So I won’t bump into them?”

  Her lips worked. “D-do you require my permission?”

  “Yes, Bella.” Hell. His heart required her permission to beat, if she only knew it. He cleared his throat. “If you so command it, darling, I will close my eyes and stumble around, feeling my way like a blind man who’s lost his cane.”

  She thought about this for a moment, tapping on her lower lip. The minx. “No,” she said after a long, long while. “I think you should look where you’re going.” He collapsed in mock relief and she grinned. “Because God only knows where those flailing hands might land.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Boobs.” A prediction, but not really.

  She waggled her finger at him. “No boobs for you. Only these boobs.” She thrust them forward.

  “Yes ma’am.” He levered up and took advantage of the bounty, drawing a berry-ripe nipple into his mouth until she threw back her head and raked his scalp with needy claws.

  He loved playing with her—the teasing and joking…and this. She tasted delicious.

  And his cock was hard.

  He eased her down by his side and focused on the soft bounty of her breasts, cupping and exploring and tormenting himself at length. He wanted more. So much more.

  But their conversation wasn’t over.

  “Holt?”

  “Hmm?”

  “So while we, ah, explore this, we agree to be monogamous?” Why she said it as a question was a mystery. There was no doubt whatsoever in his mind.

  “Mmm hmm.” He lifted his head as a thought struck him. “And no other guys for you. Right?”

  She made a face. “As if.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Ash was panting over you hot and heavy.”

  “Pfft.” She flicked her hand dismissively. “His hair is too short.”

  Holt growled at the back of his throat. “A man can grow his hair.”

  “Too blond. Like, surfer dude much?”

  “A guy can dye his hair.”

  “All right. Fine. Do you know what’s wrong with Ash?”

  “What?” He anticipated her answer on bated breath. And damn. Was it a good answer.

  “He’s not you. That’s what’s wrong with Ash. There’s nobody quite like Holt Lamm.” She pulled his head down for another kiss. And then, just b
efore their lips met, whispered, “Chop.”

  The kiss lasted for a long time, and left them both breathless. When Bella was a limp noodle in his arms, pliable and subdued, as he held her and idly stroked her hair, he decided to tackle the other issue that had been bugging him.

  “And Bella?”

  “Mmm?”

  “The smoking?”

  She leaned up on an elbow and looked down at him. “Yeah?”

  “That has to stop.”

  “I know.” She frowned. “But I warn you, I might get cranky.”

  His expression made it clear…no one would probably notice the difference. “I know it won’t be easy, but sweetheart, if you ever want a cigarette, just let me know.” He bit back a grin. “I’d be happy to give you something else to suck on.”

  “Really?” She arched a brow. “Because I kind of want a cigarette now.”

  Which was exactly what he was hoping she’d say.

  Epilogue

  Twenty-One Days Later