Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“No,” she huffs out a laugh of disbelief, shaking her head. “I am not.”
I yank her to me, scoop her up, and settle back against the propped-up pillows. She sucks in a surprised breath, her hands catching my shoulders. Her knees are on either side of my hips, and I can feel her damp pussy through my pants.
“Use me.”
Valen
“Use me.”
I swallow hard, feeling my nipples tighten beneath my sweatshirt at Holden’s blunt words. The same words he used that night in his pool a year ago. Suddenly, the fabric feels too rough against my sensitive skin. I’m itchy and needy and my heart is pounding so hard I think he must be able to hear it.
I can’t believe I’m even considering it. If it were anyone else, I’d laugh in their face. But there’s something about the way Holden talks to me, the way he touches me, the way he looks at me…he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Part of me wants to run in the opposite direction, but the bigger part wants to explore this. I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to. Logic is nowhere to be found, and in its place is something I can only explain as need. It’s completely foreign to me. Intoxicating.
I roll my hips once, testing, seeking that much-needed friction. Holden doesn’t react. Doesn’t speak. Those hands don’t move to touch me. I don’t even think he’s breathing. But I feel him twitch underneath me, and it’s all the confirmation I need. He’s affected, too. And suddenly, I want to make him just as crazy as I feel. I want to snap his self-control in half.
“I can do anything I want?” My fingers find the drawstring on his sweats, twirling and toying with it between my open thighs. His eyes follow the movement, his stomach tensing.
“Anything you want,” he confirms.
I walk my fingers up the front of his pants, stopping at the waistband before hooking them just inside. I hesitate, looking up at him.
“If you change your mind this time, I think I might actually die.”
Fuck it.
I dip my hand inside his boxers, wrapping my palm around him. I squeeze, my grip gentle but firm, and he groans, eyes squeezing shut. He’s hot and thick in my hand. His skin is soft as silk but hard as steel underneath, and I decide that I need to get a better look. I can barely make out the outline of him without the light of the fire. Using my free hand, I pull the waistband of his pants and boxers away, and he takes that as his cue to lift his hips and shove his pants down his thighs. His impressive length stands at attention between us, long and thick. I bring my hand to my mouth and lick the length of my palm. His mouth falls open as he watches me, and it gives me the confidence I need to continue. When I wrap my hand around him again, his eyes zero in on the movement, and mine follow suit, dropping down to watch. My hand slides up and down easily and he groans, his hips pushing up into my fist. His face is the picture of agonized pleasure, and it only makes me want this more. Holden’s hands ball into fists at his sides as I pump his length, as if he’s trying to give me all the control but struggling to keep himself from doing so.
“As good as this feels,” he says, voice strangled, “this is supposed to be about you.”
“Who says it isn’t? Maybe I like seeing what I do to you.” I like having the upper hand, the freedom to explore him at my own pace. There’s power in being in control. There’s safety in calling the shots.
I’m not sure which part did it, but his hand flies out to jerk me forward by my waist, bringing me closer. Our chests are touching, our lips nearly grazing. But all I can focus on is the fact that he’s now dangerously close to being inside me. With one shift of my hips, he could be. His words from a minute ago echo in my mind. Use me.
My hands are flat against his chest while he clenches my waist. I give another tentative roll of my hips, this time sliding up his length.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his grip on my waist tightening, as if he thinks I’m going somewhere.
“What you asked me to do.” I lean forward even more to brace my hand against the bench of the fireplace behind him. “Using you.”
His teeth scrape across his lower lip as his eyes dip down to where our bodies meet before lifting back to my mouth. “Do your worst, Valentina.” That one hand stays in place, but then he’s slouching back to get more comfortable, bringing his other hand behind his head as if he’s going to simply sit back and enjoy the show but can’t bring himself to fully let me go.