He’s taunting me and it might be in jest, but it reminds me of young cruel Holden too much. “Fine. I’m leaving,” I say and start toward the door, but I spin back to face him. “And if you don’t start working full days instead of sneaking off in the afternoons to do whatever, I will tell Jude to fire you.”
“You do that, Larry,” he snarks.
I have one foot out the door, but that snide comment freezes me in my tracks and I decide he’s not getting the last word. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to say to him, but it’s not going to be pretty. I turn back around and he’s stepped forward and is right behind me.
“I hate you,” I blurt out in pure frustration.
“No, you don’t,” he says confidently. “You want to and that’s why you’re doing this. You want to hate my guts because you want to hate everything. You’re in mourning. You’ve had your heart swallowed by grief—after it was broken by a real douchebag—and you want to wallow in it and being around me makes you happy. You like it. You like me. And you want me to like you, which I do. A lot.”
Why am I no longer ready to punch him again? Why am I…feeling like I might cry? He takes my silence as an opening and steps even closer. His hand slowly and gently slips around my waist.
“You think you know everything,” I say but my tone is soft, my voice breathless. Oh God he is so right. I didn’t even realize it until he said it out loud, but he is right.
“I think I know you,” he replies and dips his head ever so slightly. “And I think you want me to kiss you.”
“I do,” I admit despite the confusion and anxiety swirling inside me. Is this right? Am I crazy? Can I do this right now—after everything? He tilts his head and our lips connect, then our tongues collide and all my doubt is gone, my fear turns to desire. Right or wrong, I need this man. Now. So when he tries to pull away I curl my fingers in his hair to keep his mouth on mine, but I can’t.
He pulls away just an inch and whispers, “I think you want me to fuck you.”
“I do,” I say, panting with want. “I do.”
He reaches down, cups my ass, lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Then he presses my back against the closed trailer door. There’s no denying the man is in perfect shape—all hard muscle from his abs to his arms and his sculpted thighs. I’m eager to see—and feel—every part of him. I push his shirt higher and higher as I explore the rippled flesh of his torso with my hands.
His lips suck their way down the side of my neck and he moves us off the wall, walking toward the bedroom. As he carries me, I break our kiss long enough to pull off his shirt and drop it on the floor. He moves his lips back to mine, his tongue sweeping forcefully into my mouth as he drops to his knees on the bed and carefully lays me on the mattress. His big, strong, rough hands start to peel off my layers. With every blanket and coat he removes, the flutter in my belly grows stronger. It’s a mix of nerves and desire. I want him—I want this—but I’ve only ever slept with Ty. That fact weakens my confidence until, as he finally strips away all my clothes and looks at me in nothing but a thong and bra, and his hands ghost across the bare skin of my stomach he whispers. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”
Then, I have the confidence to move my own hands to his jeans and start to undo his belt. He helps me push his pants down and takes his underwear with them. Now he’s even more naked than I am and far less concerned about it. His left hand wraps around his long shaft and his eyes fill with dark passion as he pumps himself once before dropping down on top of me and capturing my lips again. “Can I touch you?” he asks pulling back from the kiss just enough to get the words out. “Because I really need to slide my fingers in you and feel your heat.”
“God yes,” I moan shamelessly. I push my underwear down my hips to give him access. A second later his hand is between my legs and he gently slides two fingers into me at once while his thumb finds my clit and his lips find my ear. I can feel his dick against my thigh and I try to reach it, but only graze it with my fingertips. “It’s okay, baby. Watching you get off on my touch is pleasure enough.”
I gasp as he twists his fingers and pushes up, and pleasure pulses through me in short, intense bursts with every thrust. “Holy fuck, Holden. Please…” I grab the back of his head, my fingers cutting through his thick, soft hair, and come. It’s short, it’s hard, it’s glorious.
His hips are moving against my leg and suddenly he stops and pulls back. “I need to get a condom.”
“I want you to get a condom,” I reply breathlessly trying not to focus on how my pussy is still quivering. He gets up and strides naked into the bathroom and comes back with a silver foil package in his hand. He tears it open and rolls it over himself as he climbs back onto the bed.
He lies down on top of me and reaches down to hook the back of my right leg and hitch it higher, as his tip aligns with my entrance. He pauses, kisses me so gently it takes my breath away in a completely different way and then pushes into me—hard and fast. The juxtaposition of the two things—the soft, slow kiss and the hard, quick way he enters me—awakens the desire that had been sated by that first orgasm. I’m instantly chasing another orgasm. But more importantly, I’m desperate to watch him have his first.
And when he does, several minutes later, it’s a beautiful thing. His body tenses, his eyes snap closed and his head tilts back and he moans, a sound so deep and rough I swear I feel it in my clit and it sends me tumbling into my own orgasm.
I lie there listening to him catch his breath and try to come to terms with the fact that my childhood enemy is the best lover I’ve ever had.
13
Winnie
The next morning I’m woken up by the feel of his beard grazing my neck. The rough sensation creates a flutter of desire in my belly instantly. I sleepily roll toward him and open my eyes but it’s excessively dark. I realize we’re cuddled deep under the blankets.
“Morning, Larry,” he whispers against my shoulder and I laugh.
“Shut up, jerk,” I say and let my left hand drift between us until I find his dick. He’s hard as a rock. “You’re in a vulnerable position here so I’d watch it if I were you.”
He moves, rolling on top of me, his lips skimming my neck and then my cheek before finding my lips. My hand is still pinned between us around his shaft and I give it a slow, soft tug, which makes him groan in that way that makes my insides boil. It also gives my tongue just enough room to slip past his parted lips and claim his mouth. I want to repeat last night more than I want anything in the world. I part my legs so his hips slip between them and I tug on him again. “Is that an invitation?”
I smile and kiss him again. “Only if you don’t call me Larry.”
“How about if I call you beautiful, and so fucking sexy I woke up with the worst hard-on of my life,” he says slipping his hips forward, bringing himself closer. I move my hand around to his ass as he reaches for a condom from the bedside table. He still has that tight round hockey ass. “How about if I call you perfection. Because you are.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my pelvis toward his as he rolls the condom on. Then his tip grazes my entrance. “How about if you just—” He pushes into me in one steady long thrust. “Yeah…that.”
