by Stella Rhys
His fury was so oddly tantalizing that I found myself having to bite back a grin.
“Why do you look so mad?” I dared to ask, my whisper hanging in the quiet of the alley.
But he didn’t answer right away. He only shook his head a little more, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip before lifting those wolfish eyes back to me.
“Because you’re my best friend’s little sister.” His voice was low, his stare penetrating. “And I was never supposed to touch you,” he muttered darkly, coming close to me again. “Let alone put my fingers in your pussy.”
And with those words, I felt the sudden warmth of his hand nudging between my thighs and the tantalizing heat of his fingers parting my folds.
A gasp tore from my throat as his touch sent a burst of hot tingles shooting through my core.
Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck. My legs trembled like a baby deer as he slowly, steadily teased the length of my wetness, taking in my every reaction and watching intently as my mouth quivered open. When he finally touched my clit, circling gently around it, my eyes watered before him.
But just when I thought I was overwhelmed, he slid two fingers deep inside me.
I moaned as I pitched forward, feeling his strong hand capture my jaw as my knees buckled.
“Fuck, Holland,” Iain hissed, holding my face up to his as he pushed deep inside my pussy, giving long, full strokes even as my walls squeezed tightly around him. He growled deep from his chest as I clenched, leaning back to look down between our bodies for a moment, still pumping mercilessly as he murmured, “So fucking tight.” He said it again as he ground the heel of his palm against my swollen clit and vibrated his fingers inside me, using the entire length of his hand to flood my body with such escalating pleasure that I could barely stand on my own anymore. My legs were jelly, half my weight pinned against the wall and the rest of it sitting on Iain’s hand, letting him practically bounce me on his slick palm.
For what felt like a full minute, he held my eyes to his, soaking me in, devouring my every reaction as his skilled fingers easily fucked me to the edge of orgasm. I knew he knew I was ready to come by the time he growled, “One night, Holland.”
He tightened his grip on my jaw, forcing my attention with one hand as the other continued its relentless pace between my legs.
“One night and I will fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before in your life.” He watched my mouth fall open as he pushed a third finger inside me. “I’ll make this tight little pussy come all over my cock,” he murmured, his lips curving as my sex rippled around him. “And then we’ll never speak of it again.” His stroke slowed inside me as he tipped my chin up. “Do you hear me?”
I was delirious, just nodding along till he chided me.
“Say it.”
“I hear you,” I gasped, desperately trying to ride his fingers as he slowed to a full stop. “Just one night,” I breathed out, nodding hastily. “I hear you.”
There were still stars in my vision, and I could barely open my eyes, but I made out the sound of velvet satisfaction in Iain’s voice as he murmured, “Good girl.”
And from there, his stroke returned to its merciless pace, sending me right back into my pleasured frenzy. Heat pulsed in my stomach and blood rushed in my ears, but I could still hear the sounds of my wetness as Iain tunneled deeper inside me—as he rubbed his slick palm harder against my throbbing clit, building and building on the pressure till my entire body was a tightly wound knot, desperately aching for release.
“Look at me,” Iain murmured as my muscles convulsed around his fingers.
And the second I obeyed—the second my wild eyes locked on his—all the sensation in my body went hurtling between my legs. Frantic, I squeezed two handfuls of Iain’s shirt. I whispered yes again and again, feeling possessed by the pleasure.
It already felt so fucking good, but then it exploded inside me, spasming in my core and sending the blood roaring so furiously through me that I couldn’t even hear the husky filth Iain murmured in my ear as I came all over his hand. All I could do was moan, my mouth muffled against his muscled shoulder and my body trembling between the wall and his chest as it absorbed every startling aftershock.
It was unlike anything I’d ever felt in my life. I was completely boneless, mindless. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this vulnerable, but I was so mind-numbingly satisfied that I didn’t bother feeling self-conscious as Iain watched me come down from my heights.
He drank in every helpless twitch of my eyebrows and every quiver of my lips as he withdrew his fingers from inside me and stroked gently between my legs. His stare bore into me with intensity, but I detected a tinge of amusement in it as I tried and failed to recover, panting hard and barely able to hold my own head up let alone keep my eyes fully open.
I was so drunk off the pleasure that I didn’t protest when Iain told me he still had work to finish inside the party.
“My driver’s on his way to take you home,” he informed me, one hand steadying me firmly at my hip.
I gave no reply, still breathing hard and thinking in gibberish as I watched Iain retrieve a silk handkerchief from his pocket. I felt another wave of heat as I watched him dry himself of my arousal before taking out his phone and calling his driver—all while his free hand held me up with a firm, strong touch.
And when the black SUV came, he put me inside, making me feel once again like a child as he reached across my body to buckle me in. Only this time, the feeling didn’t last long, because once I was settled in, he reminded me that I was very much not getting the kid sister treatment anymore.
“Clear your plans for tomorrow evening,” he said, referring to our dirty little arrangement.
Stunned, I nodded, and for the eternity that was the next few seconds, our gazes remained locked. But then he shut the door and as soon as he did, the car took off, leaving me squirming in the backseat and unable to string together a coherent thought besides the same three words.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
9
IAIN
My dick had been in a state of torture since I woke up at 5AM, but like a true masochist, I scheduled double my usual number of meetings for the day.
And to the surprise of no one at my office, I breezed through every one of them.
I’d met with the front office of the New York Empires to discuss a potential trade for a client. Finalized endorsement deals for two others. I’d attended presentations by my MIT research team on new strategies for player development, and scattered in between it all were a few dozen video calls with owners, GMs and other clients.
From the perspective of my colleagues, I was pushing myself like I was known to. Striving for excellence as usual.
But in reality, of course, I was keeping myself as distracted as humanly possible. Packing in every obligation I could think of, because in all truthfulness I had only one thing on my mind.
And that was fucking Holland Maxwell.
Despite how it looked on the outside, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About last night. What the hell I’d gotten myself into.
The fact that she’d even snuck into that party.
Spotting her at her cocktailing gig on Saturday had most definitely been a shock, but last night had been a different kind entirely, because last night she’d specifically planned to find me. To put me through hell. She’d come to that club just for me, dressed up just for me, and the fact that she looked like such a perfect, cock-teasing angel in that little white dress drove me halfway insane.
And that was before she decided to get hammered looking like that. Before she forced me to watch as she grinded with some stranger, and let him rub his dirty hands all over her body.
Easy.
I drew my palm across my jaw as I strode down the busy hall toward my office, willing my blood from rushing south as I remembered the way Holland looked while dancing last night.
Instead of walking away like I knew I should’ve, I’d planted myself at that
bar and fervidly watched as her dewy cheeks flushed to that perfect shade of pink. As her already pouty lips swelled even fuller, parting lightly as she closed her eyes and let the music move through her body. Those obscenely plump, pushed-up tits glistened with a thin layer of sweat, and the harder she breathed, the more convinced I was that she might actually pop out of her dress.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off of her. She had a single damp lock of blonde matted to the side of her pretty face, and when she laughed, she still did that thing where she stuck her tongue between her teeth just a little.
It was torture for me.
Torture like I never thought possible, because she looked so fucking sweet, and at the same time she was the epitome of sex. The type of living, breathing fantasy that would bring any man to his knees. For fuck’s sake, I still couldn’t believe that my best friend’s little sister had turned into this woman.
Nor could I believe how far I’d crossed the line with her last night.
It wasn’t as if I’d limited myself to our remarkably inappropriate conversation. I didn’t stop at asking her if she could handle my cock. I’d touched her body in every way I wasn’t supposed to, and the right thing to do this morning was to feel some kind of remorse. To take a step back and remind myself that I was older. That I should know a thousand times better.
But instead, I pictured her bouncing naked in my lap when I jacked off this morning. And then I reserved a suite at The Victorian Hotel for the express purpose of fucking her tonight.
“Mr. Thorn, your car to Teterboro will be here in fifteen minutes,” Erica said as I passed her desk on my way into the office. “Got time to take a call before then?”
“No, but put it through,” I said, shrugging off my jacket and draping it over the back of my couch before I took a seat at my desk.
Just as I relaxed against the leather, Erica called from outside.
“Adam Maxwell is on line one.”
My heart stopped for a beat.
Then another. And as I paused at the sound of his name, I swallowed, wondering for only half a second why my best friend was calling my office line instead of my cell.
Because you’ve been dodging his calls since Saturday.
I’d managed to deny it to myself with the help of the fact that I’d at least responded to his every text. But the truth of the matter was that I’d been avoiding talking on the phone with Adam since running into Holland last week, and I couldn’t exactly delude myself about it any longer.
Especially considering he was on hold right now, and I still hadn’t picked up the phone.
“Adam.”
There was a hint of tension in my jaw when I finally picked up, but it eased as soon as I heard Adam exhale with his signature laugh.
“Asshole,” he greeted me with an audible grin in his voice. “I take it the trade deadline’s been killing you this week.”
“As usual,” I replied, grateful for the more-than-valid excuse. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to have clients as perfectly content and well-behaved as yours,” I said wryly, making Adam snort because he was in fact known for the opposite: representing the more wild, hotheaded personalities in the Major Leagues. They gravitated naturally to him because while he wore the suit and talked the numbers, he was still a reckless party animal at heart. In essence, he spoke their language.
“Yeah, yeah, well, I may not have any trades to deal with, but I’ve still been fuckin’ swamped over here, man,” Adam said, heaving a sigh and sounding almost audibly stressed—which said something considering his general devil-may-care attitude. “It’s nonstop. I got A.J taking meetings for me, for Christ’s sake.”
I smiled at the mention of the assistant we both knew he didn’t deserve. “Well, I hope you know how lucky you are to have that girl. She could use a raise, by the way. Or a promotion.”
“I agree on both counts, but we’ll stick with the raise.”
“Yeah, let’s just forever cockblock her dream of being an agent because you can’t live without her managing every aspect of your batshit crazy life.”
“Jesus. Why’d I call you again?”
“No idea, but you better remember soon, because I have a flight to D.C at two-thirty.”
“Christ. At least I can take comfort in the fact that I’ll never be as busy as you,” Adam snorted as he snapped his fingers. “Oh. I remember why I called. On the topic of how busy you are, I need to ask a favor of you.”
“I’m not telling you how many Cs there are in ‘accommodate’ again. You have spell check for that.”
“One, shut up about that,” Adam said with a laugh. “And two, it isn’t about work this time. It’s about Holland.”
I stilled at the mention of her name, and when Adam didn’t immediately offer details, tension stiffened my shoulders. Sitting forward at my desk, I adjusted my tie, and though I wanted nothing more than to avoid this conversation, I asked, “What about her?”
I could hear him sinking into the leather couch in his office as he let go of another sigh.
“I don’t know, man. I guess I feel bad that I had to cancel my trip to visit her. My mom still won’t speak to her since she surprised everyone with the whole moving out thing,” he muttered, much to my surprise. “And my dad’s been giving me shit about getting some face time with her to make sure she’s actually doing alright. I mean for all we know, she goes to work and then holes up in her apartment for the rest of the night without any friends or social life.”
I cleared my throat to suppress my bitter amusement. “I highly doubt that’s the case, Adam.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t surprise me. She’s been living under my mom’s crazy-ass rule for so long. She doesn’t know how to just let loose and come out of her shell.”
Trust me. She’s come out of more than just her shell.
“Hell, I don’t even know if it’s good or bad that she dumped that quiet kid she was dating. I mean she might not be as socially awkward and weird as him, but it’s not like she knows the first thing about talking to the opposite sex either.”
I exhaled sharply with half-suppressed laughter.
“Yeah, I don’t think Holland’s as completely lost as you think she is, Adam.”
“Shit, I hope not. But you remember how rough a time she had in high school,” he said, forcing me to revisit those particular memories—of Holland blushing profusely in my presence. Getting up to leave during the mildest love scenes on TV. Needing to be picked up from a sleepover when the girls found out she’d never kissed a boy in her life.
“I remember,” I said tersely, preferring not to think about when I knew Holland before she was legal.
“So you know what I mean. And none of that really changed in college, so… you know. Kind of feel like she might just be doing a lot of the same these days. Sticking to her comfort zone. Being too scared to try new things.”
Yeah, I promise she’s tried a few new things, I thought, hit with a sordid mix of both guilt and arousal as I thought about all the new things I’d had Holland try last night. God, not now, I implored myself as the images flooded back into my mind. Her lifted skirt. Her wide open mouth.
The way her full tits nearly sprang out of her dress as she bounced on my hand.
“Anyway,” Adam said, the sound of his voice making me grimace as I came back to earth. “I know you’re busy as hell so I feel bad asking you this, but I just wanted to see if you could help me check in on Holland at some point. Real quick. In and out just to make sure she—”
“Yeah,” I cut in, solely because I needed to get off the phone STAT. I cleared my throat, taking a second to process the fact that I’d just agreed, but since I already had, there was no going back. “It’s not a problem, Adam. I’ll see her this week.”
Not exactly a lie.
“Really?” The pure relief in Adam’s voice hit me with a fresh wave of guilt. “Dude. Thank you. Seriously. You know I don’t usually sweat this kind of stuff, but this was a really big jump for her. A
nd if there’s anyone I trust to look out for her in the city, it’s you.”
I nodded along, replying with something or another, though I could barely focus on what the hell I was saying, because for Christ’s sake, I couldn’t be less deserving of Adam’s praise. I was anything but an honorable friend or protector.
I’d had his sweet little sister show me her pussy last night.
I’d finger-fucked her ruthlessly in public and felt how tight and wet she was as she came all over my hand.
And if that weren’t bad enough, I still had every intention of seeing her tonight.
“Alright, well, I’ll let you go since you got a flight to catch,” Adam said just as Erica popped her head in to signal that my car had arrived. “But I’m visiting in two weeks. I can’t make it for your actual birthday, but I’ll be there a little after, so clear some time for me—‘cause it’s been five years since you’ve been single, and we’re gonna fucking celebrate the shit out of that, you hear me?”
I agreed, managing a convincing laugh with Adam before we ended our call. And as soon as we did, I rubbed my palm across my face, grabbing my cell phone and curling my lip in complete awe of myself.
Because I’d harbored a shred of hope for myself when I picked up Adam’s call. Thought that perhaps I’d come to my senses after talking to him on the phone.
But I very much hadn’t.
If anything, I wanted to fuck Holland even harder.
I was that much more eager to get her alone in a hotel room, strip her body naked, and do to her all the things I didn’t get to do her last night, because more than ever now, I needed her out of my head.
By tomorrow.
She was on my mind in a way that was more disruptive than anything I’d ever felt in my life, and I needed to get all this out of my system STAT, so as I strode out of the office, I had Erica cancel my last meeting for the day.
And then I scrolled to Holland’s contact to send her a text.
ME: I can’t wait till 9. Meet me at The Victorian at 7PM.