by Ney, Sara
“Everything you do is sexy, Hollis.”
She moans at that, opening her eyes to gaze down at me, pupils already dilating. Traps her lower lip between her teeth.
I put my mouth back on her, wetting her white granny panties with my tongue. Sucking and sucking and sucking, soaking them through.
“Oh my god, I’m wearing hip-hugger briefs,” she complains.
I laugh into the cotton panties, enjoying her embarrassment, enjoying the flush on her face and the labor of her breath, the smooth, silky skin of her thighs.
“I’ll buy you all the sexy underwear you want.”
I press my fingers into her flesh, flexing them, completely turned on and lost in the moment. I’m lost in discovering her body, granny panties and all.
She’s so fucking cute I could eat her up.
So I do.
17
Hollis
Is there a sight more intoxicating than that of a man with his head between your legs?
I plow my fingers through Trace’s hair, the thick, dark strands sifting through like sand, velvety and smooth. Smooth like the tongue lapping at my heat, slowly but firmly. Fast. Slow. In and out.
He sucks, using his teeth a little—not to the point of hurting, but just enough that I can feel it, the friction doing the craziest shit to my ovaries.
They quiver inside me.
I shiver.
His hands are on my thighs to hold them apart—yet another thing that drives me wild looking at it. Primal.
I’m not normally a visual person—I don’t watch porn and I don’t have to imagine anything when I close my eyes to masturbate—but this? This sight of him is making me wild. Gets me so hot.
My breath quickens and a moan escapes my lips, one that’s pouty and a bit whiny. I want to come—but I don’t. I want his finger inside me—but it isn’t. I want to have sex with him—but we won’t.
Make up your mind, Hollis.
Speak now or forever hold your—
“Ohhh…” I moan, grateful I live alone. Grateful for having shaved my legs this morning before I left the house. Grateful I had my pussy waxed last week—and my ass, ha ha.
Grateful for Trace and his skilled fingers…
He seems to sense I need more, and he complies.
One finger confidently goes inside me. Then two. Usually, I’m not a fan. I’ve yet to have sex or foreplay with a man who knew what the fuck he was doing with his fingers. But he…does.
I don’t have to direct him, or tell him to be gentle, or to ease up.
His thumb settles into a rhythm on my clit. His tongue lingers below it.
The entire thing makes me go, “Mmm.” Then, “Yes…”
Yes, more.
Yes, Buzz.
Yes, right there.
Oh.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to call him Daddy, then—ew. No.
But kind of.
But I don’t.
I feel how flushed my chest is and want to tear my shirt off. I want to get so nakedy naked and have him lick me all over, but we’re not there yet.
We’re here.
Him pleasing me because I had a bad day.
The worst day, I remember now.
Poor me.
I look down at him again, a slow grin spreading on my face as I grip his head. Prop my toes on his shoulders, tipping my head back.
Let him pleasure me while I watch, desire swallowing me whole.
It feels euphoric when I come.
“Oh god…”
I needed that. Needed it good and hard—and it was fast. Almost embarrassingly quick, but right now I don’t even care.
Buzz rests back on his haunches, regarding me, glistening lips twisted with his own pleasure—with the knowledge that I just had a loud, aching ’gasm and he’s the one who gave it to me.
Those giant hands slide up my bare legs. Over my thighs and hips. He leans forward and kisses my knees. Glides his palms under my ass and hefts me up. Scoops me up like a baby, cradling me.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
I nod toward the stairs against the wall on the east side of this level.
Up we go.
When he finds my room, pushing the door open with his toe like he did earlier, he sets me on the edge of the bed. Removes my remaining clothes.
I scoot to the center.
Watch as he undresses himself down to his boxers, pulls the covers back, and slides in after me. Lays his head down on one of my five hundred pillows and stares up at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry you had a shitty day.” He searches and finds my hand under the covers, gives it a squeeze.
My heart constricts.
“I’m feeling a lot better now, thank you.” It’s supposed to come out flippant, like a joke, but sounds more serious than I intended it. “Thanks to you.”
There. Better.
“I’m glad you came over.” I mean—Madison is fine and all, but there’s nothing like the comfort of a big, brawny man to make me feel hot and warm on the inside.
“Me too.” His fingers still grip mine. “I wasn’t sure if I should—didn’t know if you’d actually agree to see me when your friend opened the door. She’s scary as fuck.”
That she is. “She means well. She’s protective of me.” Mostly.
Sort of.
“It’s good having loyal friends.”
“Like Noah?”
“Exactly.” Buzz is quiet for a time. “He and I have had our ups and downs, mostly because he resists my advances, but over the past few weeks, he’s really come around.”
Resisted his advances? Uh… “Do the two of you…um, are you sleeping together?”
“Noah and me?” He glances over at me, surprised. “No—I just meant the friendship thing.” His laugh is deep and sexy. Masculine and amused. “I know he never wanted me around, but I kept showing up and eating his food.” Pause. “And swimming in his pool and eating his food. And sleeping in his guest room and—”
“Eating his food?”
He shrugs. “I get hungry.”
“And now he’s cool with it?”
“Yeah, he gave me the garage code.”
“Did he?”
“Granted, it was after I stole one of the remotes for the security gate, but progress is progress.”
I stare, mouth gaping. I can never tell when he’s being serious or kidding around. Stifle my laughter. He is really something else entirely.
I find it…adorable. Cute. Refreshing. All words I would never have associated with Buzz Wallace. Not at a first glance, or a second or third. I was too busy stereotyping him.
Shame on me.
The cool sheets brush my skin when I roll to face him, reminding me that I’m entirely naked. Reminding me that he’s just in boxers and hasn’t been pleasured yet. Pleased? Pleasured… Uh, yeah. He hasn’t had an orgasm, and he’s given me two: the dry humping on the floor at his parents’ house, and the oral in my living room.
Selfish, selfish, selfish.
And it’s been so long since I’ve had a dick inside me.
My legs rub together of their own accord, anxious. Excited.
“What’s that look?” Buzz raises a brow.
I raise mine. “What look?”
His hands come out from under the covers to point. “That one.”
I shrug and the covers drop from my chest, exposing my breasts. “I have a look? Huh.”
He visibly swallows.
Is he nervous?
Are my boobs his sexual kryptonite?
He can’t take his eyes off them, and I feel empowered, feminine.
I see if I can distract him. “Have you ever been on any dating apps?”
Buzz moves his eyes from my chest to my face. “Actually, I have.”
“Really!” Why does that surprise me? I expected him to say no. “Which ones?”
“TheBuzz, StupidCupid, and Hinder.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and I lean closer, wanting more inform
ation. “And?”
His head bobbles. “Andddd, I got reported for being a fake account so often I completely gave up.”
I can see that happening—makes sense. “Aren’t there apps out there for famous people?”
Buzz nods, reaching for my hip under the covers. “Yes, but I don’t want to date someone famous. Or a wannabe. Or a starlet, or a pop singer, or or or. I want to date someone normal.”
Does that mean he thinks I’m normal? ‘Cause I’m far from it; in fact, sometimes I feel as if I have more issues than a lifetime subscription to Cosmo.
“What about you?” His finger trails along my skin. “Are you on any dating apps?”
“A few, now and again. The problem is, I say some off-the-wall shit and scare lots of men away—but it’s my way of separating the men from the boys.”
“Off the wall? How?”
“Well.” I’m smiling. Clear my throat. “For example, if a guy’s profile has pictures of him both with a beard and without a beard, he might say, ‘I shaved my beard recently,’ to which I might reply, ‘Yeah, me too.’” I glance up at Buzz for his reaction. “They don’t always like that answer. It confuses them.”
He laughs.
“Oh!” I go on. “Once, a guy said he wanted to meet me right away and I agreed. It’s better to get it over and done with and out of the way than drag it out, because waiting just makes the disappointment worse if there is no chemistry in person.”
Buzz nods along with my story.
“So I say things like, ‘Here I am kicking stones down the sidewalk when it doesn’t work out, dragging my limp, red balloon.’” Buzz doesn’t think that is quite as funny. “The last guy to ask me out wanted to know if five o’clock was good for drinks, and I asked if we could make it later. ‘The later the better,’ I said. ‘The darker it gets, the better I look. Way cuter in dim lighting, unless you bring a paper bag to put over my head.’”
His eyes bug out of his skull. “You do not talk like that.”
I hold up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. Never fails to horrify or delight. There isn’t an in-between.” And if I had a cigar, I’d light it up and take a puff from it right now. Ahhh, the satisfaction from the look on his face.
Intrigue?
Admiration?
“You shouldn’t have fun at the expense of gullible young men,” he says with a laugh.
“I don’t want to date those men anyway, so good riddance. They don’t have balls big enough.”
“Whoa, Hollis!” Buzz laughs again, a booming one that has him reaching for me. “You’re kind of a monster—who knew?”
I knew.
I’ve always known I was a bit…sassy. Smartassy. Problem is, I have never met someone I could be myself with. It’s always been suppressed humor, and suppressed jokes, and suppressed sex drive.
What is it about him that makes me feel so…myself? Him of all the people on this earth?
Buzz—Trace, as I’d prefer to call him when we’re being intimate—gently caresses the curve of my hip with his palm. I can feel the callouses on the pads of his fingers, a reminder of his hard work. The nature of his job. How he uses his body to succeed.
I watch his biceps flex; they’re tan and toned and mouthwatering. It’s illustrative of another difference between the two of us: I don’t work out. Or go to the gym. I barely bent down to pick up dog shit off the sidewalk when I had a dog.
Walking is my cardio, but barely. Sometimes, I take the stairs instead of an elevator, but rarely.
Trace’s muscles have me leaning forward again, breathlessly tracing one of his veins with the tip of my forefinger. Exploring his warm skin the way he explores mine.
He lets me, lying still, and I can see the hitch in his breath when he holds it, the second my fingers run along his collarbone, down his clavicle, reaching his belly button.
Lord, his body is a temple. I haven’t worshipped at one for a long, long time and hardly know what to do with it. I’m not the kind of woman men throw themselves at. I’m relatively bad at blow jobs, and I am intimidated by hand jobs.
Call it lack of experience. Call it intimidating.
Dicks scare me—there, I said it.
Cocks and balls and the entire business freak me out.
Trace doesn’t move an inch. Watches my hand, eyes skimming the front of my torso every so often, drinking in the sight of my naked body.
It emboldens me when I catch him, his eyes looking glazed over and mesmerized. By me. By my body.
I scoot into him so my breasts brush against his chest. Tip my head so he can shift his head and kiss my neck.
“Mmm.” My favorite spot. If he blows on me soft enough, I’ll come. Ha ha.
“Do you like that?” He blows again.
“Mmmhmm. I do.” Yes. So don’t stop.
Meanwhile, I allow myself to continue exploring, my hand reaching around and trailing to his back. Runs up his rib cage, smooth and hard and stiff. His body is built like a top performance machine.
My father’s voice echoes in my ears. “He is the best closer we’ve had in years…he doesn’t need the distraction…the best we’ve had in years…doesn’t need the distraction…”
It’s not Dad’s decision; it’s ours. Trace’s. Mine.
Of all the places in the world he could be, Trace Wallace chose to be here, with me.
I like everything he does lately.
My hands get greedy, discovering they love touching his shoulders. Big, broad, wide. Delicious enough to kiss.
My lips touch his skin and he too tips his neck so I can kiss him there, the tender flesh getting more and more flushed the longer I pepper it with affection. He’s blushing.
My mouth finds the space below his Adam’s apple. Kiss.
Collarbone. Kiss.
Between his pecs. Kiss.
His hips begin to slowly thrust, the dick between his thick thighs growing harder with each and every second I tease his body with my touch. Eyes drift shut. Lips part.
Every so often, he presses those lips together.
Nostrils flare.
So hot.
His hand is between my legs and I spread them a little, aching to feel his fingers inside my—
“God you’re so tight,” he murmurs, the deep voice in my ear giving me the shivers. “You’re so sexy, Hollis.”
You’re so sexy, Hollis.
Hollis.
My name, whispered like that?
An aphrodisiac so alluring I want to hear him say it over and over and over again. It would never be enough.
His hand is large enough to span my pelvis, and he spreads his fingers over my lower belly, one finger in my slit, other hand dragging its way up my body, cupping my breast.
“Your tits are perfect.” He moans as if they are in fact the most perfect tits in all the land. Ordinarily I’d correct him to say, No pair of tits are perfect, Buzz, but to him, maybe they are. I am learning that about him; he says what he means and means what he says, even when it’s nonsense. “You’re so beautiful.”
Perfect. Tight. Beautiful. Sexy.
“Mmm.” I arch my back into it, loving the way it feels. Realizing at this moment we are going to do it. Do it, as in: the deed. Sex. The nasty. Bang, screw, fuck.
Yup, we are doing it, and I am NOT STOPPING IT.
Between my legs, the tip of his hard cock presses, creating friction despite not being inside me. It’s plump and hot and I want it bad.
“Before we go any further, we should probably…” find a condom. I have some in my nightstand, but I’m afraid to tell him that, worried he’ll judge me—but wanting to be safe.
Without being prompted, Trace half rolls toward the bedside table and yanks open the drawer, digs into the box that only has one missing, and pulls out a rubber. He doesn’t question it and I don’t remark on it, and before I know it, he’s sliding it on.
It’s weird watching that part—usually. Watching him do it, though? My mouth waters at the sight, knowing that stiff,
hard dick is going to be inside me soon, and my heartbeat quickens.
I want it so bad.
He kisses me and our tongues meet. Mmm, I could do this all day, latching onto his mouth, savoring how sweet he tastes. Then. He’s hovering above me. Positioning himself.
I’m wet, so it goes in easy—just the tip. He teases me with it until my head is thrashing on the pillow and I’m no longer amused. I want to be fucked, good and hard, and I’m tired of waiting.
“Fuck me already,” I blurt out impatiently, too horned up to be ashamed of my outburst.
“You like that, baby?” His voice dips as he pushes deeper, talking dirty. “I’m gonna fuck you good.”
Fuck me good? Oh lord. Maybe I’m out of my league here.
Maybe I’m not ready for what he’s got to give.
Maybe his dick will be too big and won’t even fi—
It fits. I was wrong.
Latex-covered perfection, sliding all the way in. I moan, tipping my head back, almost certain my mouth is hanging open with wonder.
This is my sex face and there’s no hiding it now.
Trace doesn’t fuck me as hard as I’m expecting him to, considering all the trash talk he’s been doing, but rather methodically. Slowly. Each thrust measured as if calculated specifically to hit the erogenous zones in my vagina.
He’s so good at it.
It feels so good.
Good, good, good. My brain still won’t work.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, pumping into me. “You want to be on top?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “I want to watch you fuck me.”
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
“Shit, Hollis…God you feel amazing…” His body is low, not crushing mine but pressing against me, like he’s doing planks for abs but having sex at the same time? Mouth near my ear, moaning and groaning.
I could listen to a tape of him screwing me and get off from it, I swear.
My hands grip his ass, which isn’t easy because he’s so much taller than I am.
It’s heaven.
And as I come, a little part inside me cannot help thinking that perhaps…just maybe…he was meant for me.
* * *
“Can I tell you something and you promise you won’t laugh?”