Page 73 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
That’s the Holden I know.
The master of the tease.
I shudder as he runs his nose along my skin, then as he feathers a barely-there kiss against my throat.
His voice is husky, commanding. “Get inside. Get inside now.”
He slams the door shut, and in seconds I drop my bag and we’re kissing. Like there’s nothing else in the world.
His lips explore mine. He holds my face like it’s been years, like he cherishes touching me. Like he can’t stop kissing me or tasting me.
And I feel consumed by him.
I want the consumption.
I want him more than I’ve wanted anyone.
This is how chemistry should be—want and heat and desire. Sex should be frenzied and electric.
That’s how we kiss and touch, endlessly, like it’s been months since our last kiss rather than days.
Like it’s been forever and we’re dying for the nourishment of a kiss.
He moans and sighs and draws me impossibly closer, his hands clasping my face like he doesn’t want to let me go.
I don’t want to be let go.
I press and grind against his strong, muscular frame, the friction stoking the fire in me, making me hot, making me want to climb him. I snake a hand between the seal of our bodies, rubbing it across the hard outline of his cock. He groans, all broken and ravaged.
Our mouths fall apart as a staggered breath falls from his lips.
As I squeeze his length through his jeans, I grin, wiggle a brow, then whisper, “My turn.”
“Reese,” he growls, a filthy warning and invitation all at once.
Then I’m on my knees, unzipping, pushing his jeans down a few inches, along with his briefs, freeing his gorgeous cock.
His shaft greets me at attention, ready for me. I swirl my tongue over the head, eliciting a carnal, needy growl from my man.
I’m no pro, no expert at blow jobs, so I don’t try to wow him with a technique I don’t have. What I do have is an overdose of desire and the wish to touch him, taste him, play with him.
I draw him in more, and he rasps out, “So good.”
His reaction heats me up, fans the flames of lust tearing through my body. Sliding my tongue over the head, I lap up the liquid drop of arousal, savoring the taste of his desire.
“That’s so fucking good,” he mutters as his hands thread into my hair. More words of praise come my way. “Your mouth, beautiful. Your mouth is so fucking incredible.”
Those words ignite me, setting off a chain reaction of sparks all over my skin.
I pulse between my legs, hot and needy, as he pushes in farther.
I let him experience more of my mouth as I take him in more than halfway, my hand curled around the base, my other hand sliding between his legs to cup his balls.
I squeeze them gently.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, and that seems to send him into a flurry of pleasure because he pumps his hips, coils his hands around my skull, and bites off a string of curse words before he slows his pace for a second. “Was that too much?”
I drop him from my lips and shake my head. “I can handle you. I want to handle you. I’ve been dreaming about this.”
His eyes are hooded, darkened with desire.
He slides a thumb along my jaw, then over my lips. “Show me what’s on your mind. Show me now,” he urges, a plaintive plea. I love the sound of his need, crave it, so I suck his cock back into my throat, hauling him in deeper.
Not too far, not to choking levels.
But I find a rhythm that works for this newbie.
I don’t deep throat him, because I’m sure that takes practice, but I’m sure, too, that I’ll have practice with him.
Instead, I suck him like I’ve missed him, and that’s the easiest thing in the world to do because it’s all true. It’s all real. And it’s how I feel.
He pumps slowly into my mouth like he’s taking his time with me, like he did when we first made love. He’s patient, and he listens to my body, my moves. He fucks my mouth like he’s crazy for me. Maybe that’s strange to say about a blow job, but that’s Holden, that’s how he treats me—with tender hands and fierce passion. With genuine adoration and red-hot lust.
And with all of that as he fucks my face with his cock and my mind with his words.
You.
You’re so beautiful.
Missed you so much.
Need you so much.
God, that’s so fucking good.
And it is good. It’s so good that I’m rocking my hips, groaning against his shaft, soaking my panties.
I suck hard and another salty drop slides down my throat.
“Ahhhh,” he murmurs as his dick jerks in my mouth, then he gives a strangled “Fuuuuck.”
He stops.
Freezes.
Curls his hand around my head. “If you do that another second, I’ll come.”
