Page 53 of Threaded Lies

“Fuck,” he groans out, the gravelly sounds scraping over my skin and causing goose bumps like they’re touching me.

“I need you,” I whisper against the flat disc of his nipple. “I want you.” I suck it into my mouth, his whole body tensing. “You’re all I’ve thought about even when I hate you.”

His chuckle vibrates against my lips as he lifts my face up to meet his. “Christ, you’re beautiful.” He slips his hands between my thighs so that I involuntarily buck my hips into his hand. Needing his touch. Craving his touch. “And so fucking wet for me.”

“Yes. God…” It’s all I can manage as he tucks three fingers into me to prime me for his cock. My head falls back and my eyes close just as his lips meet mine.

“Get on the bed, Row. Spread your thighs. Show me that pretty pussy of yours. And then I’m going to watch it take every fucking inch of my cock until you can’t take any more.” He slides a hand up my chest and rests it just beneath my chin at the base of my throat. “I’ve been desperate to feel you like that. Wrapped around me. Soaking me. Coming for me.”

He tugs on my bottom lip as his free hand squeezes my ass. I crawl into position like he asks as he slips a condom on. His moan is one of pure appreciation as he turns back to find my legs parted and my own fingers dipping into me. I wet them and then bring them up to circle around my clit. I repeat the process, our eyes locked on each other’s the whole time, as his own hand lowers to fist his cock.

We pleasure ourselves, slowly, seductively, but it’s our fixed gazes that make this way more intimate.

His bicep flexes with each pump of his cock. The tendons in his neck pull taut and his breath comes faster as he works himself over.

But I’m not immune to the moment either. My body is riding a high that I’ve come to understand only he can create. My breasts grow heavy and that electric pulse of pleasure grows more powerful with each and every flick of friction.

“Fuck those fingers, Rowan,” he urges as I dip them back into me. “Fuck them. Good girl. Just like that. Rock those hips.” He lets his head fall back, fighting the urge to lose himself to his hand or to watch me. “Tell me when you’re ready for me.”

I let the pleasure surge. Build me up. And just before I’m about to fall, I scoot to the edge of the bed and whisper, “I’m yours, Holden.”

I don’t have time to process the speed with which Holden grabs my legs and yanks me toward him.

I laugh but that laugh is short-lived as he pushes his way into me. The slow, sweet stretch of him filling me is absolute bliss. My hips buck and my hands grip the sheet as I take everything I can of him.

“Good god, Row. Take that cock.” Holden’s hips jerk involuntarily as his teeth sink into his lower lip. “Fuck, that’s hot. Can you take any more? Hmm. There you go. Just like that.”

His fingertips trace over the edges of where I’ve stretched to accommodate him and it’s the hottest fucking sensation. It turns me on. It teases me more.

And then he begins to move.

There is no break-in period in this moment. It’s just two people desperate for the feel of each other, the high of each other, the release earned from each other.

We move in synch. My thighs stretching wider, his hips thrusting harder. The room is filled with the sound of our panted breaths and slapping skin.

The pressure builds. His fingers hold my hips in place as he picks up his pace. His cock rubs over every single nerve while I clench around him tighter and tighter.

His lips close over mine. His tongue matches the rhythm of his hips, and my fingernails score into his biceps as I hold on to him. As I beg him not to stop and urge him to slow down.

Hurry up and slow it down.

One brings bliss and the other makes it burn so bright it ends.

All I know is it feels right. He feels right. And I’m right back where I want to be.

With Holden. Beneath him. With him in me. Pleasuring me.

“Fuck, baby. I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer. You’re … fucking incredible.” A push in. “The way you feel.” A grind of his hips. “The way you taste.” A pull out. “The way you take this cock and ride it.”

“Holden.” His name is a long, drawn-out moan as the orgasm slams into me. My gasp turns to a moan.

My back arches and hands grasp the sheets.

The moan turns into a mewl.

My legs tense and my pussy tightens.

Holden stills and lets me chase my high. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Let me feel you come.”