Hollywood Holden: Los Angeles Bad Boys (4 page)

S
he wants me
. I can feel it in the kiss. The kiss that I’ve quite possibly been waiting eight years for.

We pull apart, gasping for breath.

"Let's go somewhere," I tell her. I pause, thinking. The last thing I want to do is drag Bex to the local motel and create fodder for the tabloids. She's not just one of my hook-ups. "My mom's house? I know, not very Hollywood movie-star-like ... but Bex, I can't wait. Not after that kiss."

Her eyes are filled with desire, her lips swollen, her back arched as she looks up at me and nods.

"I can't believe we made out in the high school parking lot," she says. "I mean, at least it's Friday night—but still, I work here now, you know."

"I heard." I take her hand. "Uh, I don't actually have a car. Can you drive?"

She leads me to the small beat-up Volvo she drove in high school, and unlocks the door. Sitting in the passenger seat, I look over at her and shake my head.

"Memory lane, right?" she says, putting the car in reverse. I'm guessing she's also remembering the times she would answer her phone late on a Friday night, and come pick me up from whatever party I had gotten sloppy drunk at. Or maybe she's remembering the party we got sloppy drunk at together and slept in this car.

The night of our second-worst fight.

"Have you ever drank from a beer bong since that night?" I ask her.

"Nope." She shakes her head. "And I never will."

"I remember being shocked that you went all-in that night."

"I was in a bad mood if I remember correctly." She raises her eyebrows, keeps her eyes on the road.

I don't say any more about that night. I remember why she was mad. Because I asked Kiera to prom instead of her.

But that was only after I heard her backstage, before our final performance of
Oklahoma!
, telling a girl that
no
, she did
not
want to go to prom with Holden. That Holden was a player, and would only try to get in her pants.

"I don't want to live in the past, not tonight," I tell her, running a hand through my hair.

"Good," she says, rounding the corner and pulling up to my house. "Because I don't want to either."

I unlock the front door, and pull her upstairs. Even though I've offered to buy my mom a new place, she's still living in the townhouse where I grew up. I push open my bedroom door, and smile. I like that nothing has changed.

The room is dark; I turn on a lamp, letting a soft glow cover the room.

"I haven't been in your room for ages," Bexley says. "Oh my gosh, look." She points to a bulletin board filled with pictures from high school. Programs from every play Bex and I were in together are taped to the wall. "I'm back at my parents’ house for this semester while I student teach, but they re-did the room the moment I left for college. My childhood is in a plastic bin in the garage."

"I thought we weren't talking about the past," I tell her, taking her hand and pulling her to face me.

"You're larger than life now, Holden—a huge movie star," she says, taking pins out of her hair and letting the brown locks fall past her shoulders. "But when I'm standing here in this room, all I see is the boy I knew. The boy I knew could do anything."

"Bex," I whisper, "You're so beautiful."

"Shush. You're just saying that to get me naked."

It's strange to see Bexley like this, so willing to give in to the sexual frustration that’s boiled between us for so long.

"Did you come to the school tonight planning on having your way with me?" I ask her, my fingers undoing the buttons of her blouse until a slice of her skin is revealed.

"Yes, Holden, I did."

She lets her top fall to the floor, then takes my hands and leads them to the buttons on her pants. Her skin is warm, and it feels like I'm undressing something precious and delicate—and much too tender for an asshole like me. Like I'm being given a gift I don't deserve. Bexley walked away from me … but I gave her plenty of reasons to go.

Her pants drop, and she stands before me in tiny pure-white panties and a lacy bra. She looks like a goddess, like a nymph from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She
is
a dream, a woman more magical than I've ever had standing before me.

"You're perfect, Bex," I tell her, pulling off my shirt and stepping toward her. I kiss her again, harder this time, with more force. Because I’m no longer merely infatuated with the
idea
of Bexley; I’m consumed with the knowledge that I am going to have her, tonight.

I run my hands over her back, up and down her spine, settling a palm on her curvy ass. I squeeze her softly, and my cock is instantly hard because I’ve dreamed of this moment for a long, damn time.

"Once I start touching you, I won't be able to stop," I promise.

"Good." Her lips part, and I run my hand over her full breasts, tugging down the lace cup of her bra and pressing my mouth to her hard nipple, sucking her perfect tit as her hands run though my hair. "I've saved myself for this moment, Holden."

I pull my mouth from her tit, using my other hand to unclasp her bra—because fuck, I just need to see her bare before me. "Saved all of yourself?" I ask as her breasts fall from her bra, so full and made to be titty-fucked, crass as it may sound. I want to push my cock between them until I come all over her face.

I know I should imagine more gentle things with Bexley, but I’ve fantasized fucking her for so many years.

I'd be a liar to say I hadn't imagined taking her every single possible way.

"I've saved every inch of my skin. My mouth has only been kissed by other actors. Never a boyfriend. Never a lover. I've waited for you. I always wanted you to be my first."

I'll also be her last, but I don't say it out loud, not wanting to scare her with my desire. Still, I can't hold back anymore. My cock is so stiff and needy.

I pick her up and she instinctively wraps her legs around my waist. I carry her to my bed where I plan on pulling off her panties and admiring her pious pussy, a pussy saved for me.

Setting her on the bed, I tell her to lie back. Her head rests against the pillow of the twin-sized bed, and I unbutton my slacks. They fall to the floor and I step out of them.

"Have you ever seen a cock before, Bex?"

She shakes her head, a smile spread across her lips, as if knowing she's in for a fucking treat. You don't have as much pussy as I do without a cock that porn stars dream of. She must have heard rumors.

I take off my briefs, and my thick cock springs to life. I stroke it, letting her know it doesn't bite, and watch as innocence is wiped from her face.

She sits up, as if the idea of lying back is ludicrous. She wants to see my cock up close; she wants to get real personal. She sits on the edge of the bed, her perfect tits full and perky.

Her mouth is at my waist, and if I pressed her face a few inches closer she could be licking my length in a matter of moments.

"Holden, show me how to touch you."

If there’s one thing I remember about Bex, it's that when she wants to learn something, she goes all-in. I remember her staying behind at the theater, refusing to leave until she nailed every one of her cues, every one of her lines, until she could deliver every inflection with precision.

That’s what made her such an amazing actress.

And that’s what is going to make her such an amazing lover.

My
lover.

H
is cock is huge
. Which is something I prepared myself for ... in theory. But in reality? Oh, holy hotness.

Everything inside me is screaming to get closer. All I want is him. In me. Anywhere in me. My mouth. My pussy. My ... well, I haven't ever considered it, but yeah, my ass is just fine. If it means his long, thick, throbbing cock is all up in my grill, I will take it any way it is offered.

Also, maybe I judged those girls too harshly back in high school, those girls who were willing to jack him off in the library or meet him for a quickie after sixth period. I'm beginning to understand it now. They’d seen him naked, had him inside of them, and knew what he was capable of.

I want to know what he’s capable of.

"Holden, show me," I ask again, wanting to get it perfectly right, if this is our one and only shot at being together. Not wanting to mess up or do it wrong. I know I won't have more chances to sleep with the biggest movie star in Hollywood.

Holden just smiles, "Girl, you can't do it wrong. It's instinct. It's human nature. It's biology. You do what feels good, what feels right. The rest takes care of itself."

"Says the person in the room who is decidedly
not
the virgin."

"Listen, trust yourself. Trust this moment," he says. His abs are rock-hard, chiseled and tan. He strokes his cock, and I'm at eye level. If I'm supposed to listen to my instincts—follow human nature—then right now I need to wrap my lips around his length and suck.

Which … when exactly did I become so comfortable with the idea of Holden and me?

Maybe because I’ve been imagining it for so long.

I lick my lips, spread my legs, and grab his ass, drawing him closer to me. He drops his hands, watching me. I feel his gaze as I gingerly reach for him, and stroke his shaft.

I listen to my body and lick the palm of my hand, before bringing it back to his cock, moving up and down with ease. His tip is soft and his length is veiny, hard, and throbbing. My other hand reaches lower, rolling his two tight balls in my fingers.

"Oh, fuck, Bex," he groans. "That’s...."

"Good?" I smile, looking at him as he runs his hand through his hair, shakes his head. And I know he likes it. A lot.

I lick the tip of his cock, wanting to taste him, and as I bring him in my mouth my pussy seems to awaken. I clench myself together—a pointless effort, because I am soaking my silky panties through, seeping with excitement because his cock is in my mouth.

I wrap my mouth tight around him and begin bobbing up and down, keeping my mouth tight as I suck hard. He's so big, but I like it, my mouth being filled with him like this. Entirely.

I keep sucking, feeling his dick harden in a way I didn't know was possible.

Then his hands find my breasts, and he plucks my nipples. In an instant my panties are soaked clean through, and that's just fine. I want them off anyway.

I want to be completely bare before Holden, and I want to let him do to my body what he likes.

I want him to take me and lick me and fuck me.

And then I want to fall asleep in his arms for just one night.

He comes in my mouth, hard, his cock hitting the back of my throat as his release fills my mouth. It's creamy and salty and him. I swallow, still sucking because it feels like that's what he needs. I run my hands over his firm ass, pulling him as close to me as possible.

When he finishes, he pulls out, looking down at me, shaking his head. "Bex, who the hell have you become?"

I resist the urge to say
yours
. He and I made no promises, not since the day I broke them. And I won't ask him to make any now.

"I need you in me, Holden. It's what I've wanted for so long."

He seems to growl, not able to say a sentence, not even a single word. Instead he just eases me back on the bed, and pulls my panties off. His hands run over my thighs, spreading my legs; his head lowers to my skin and he kisses my tender inner thighs. I bite my lip, because
Holden
is actually inches from my pussy, his fingers fluttering over my mound.

The heat of his breath blows against my entrance, and I whimper in anticipation.

His tongue moves over my slit, running up and down, causing me to close my eyes, drop my shoulders. Any apprehension I had about doing this, with Holden, has dissipated. I know this is for just one night, and my life is so far from his ... but I’m finally making right the wrongs of my past.

Forgiveness has never felt so good.

His fingers roll over my clit, moving in circles, over and over again, teasing me with a touch that’s all new to me, and forcing me into submission. I have zero body control at this point. All I have is the way he makes me feel.

The way he’s always made me feel: vulnerable and over my head and out of control, in a way that I always knew would be dangerous.

Because I always knew that I need the line in the sand, because I knew that if I crossed it I would never return to solid ground.

"Girl, you're so ready," he groans, rising closer to me, his finger still buried in my pussy, come-hithering against my folds as my release soaks his hand. My thighs are slick, but he keeps his finger inside me, easing me farther and farther out, to the point of no return.

My eyes flutter open; his chest hovers over me. He reaches into the bedside table and grabs a condom, slipping it on as I catch my breath. My body is so warm, so completely spun up.

I run my hand over his bronzed chest, over the tattoo he got on his eighteenth birthday. "Do you regret it?" I ask, tracing the double H emblazoned on his skin.

I drew them in Sharpie, the letters
HH
, representing his dream and my belief that he would become
Hollywood Holden
. I marked him with those letters in the green room before the opening-night performance of
Our Town
... when he second guessed his ability to deliver the lines. He thought for sure he was going to eff it up.

I remember holding my tongue, wanting to tell him to stop coming to rehearsal high if he wanted to do better … but I never wanted to be that person to him. To be his mother.

Instead, I got the Sharpie and wrote the letters on his chest. I wasn't nervous to be so close to his bare skin. Holden and I poured out our hearts on the stage every day; this was nothing more than a pep talk.

"You're Hollywood Holden. You're bigger than
Our Town
, and bigger than
this
town. You can do this, Holden. You can." I looked into his eyes and squeezed his hand.

"Thanks, Bex," he'd said, looking at his ink in the mirror. "You're the only person I can count on to make me feel better."

I remember wishing that his words were true. Because he could have had me if he'd stopped the partying and the girls, and quit being so blasé about school. If he would have taken something seriously. Taken
us
seriously.

But I would never have asked him to change for me.

If I was going to be with him, he'd have to change on his own.

"Hey," Holden says now, looking down at me. "There’s so much I regret, Bex. But that tattoo? Never."

I nod, remembering sitting with him at the tattoo shop. His knuckles were white, even though he so wanted to be a badass who could take it. I kept laughing at him, because it was funny to see him freaking out as the needle neared him.

But I also remember being amazed by him. Because by that point I already knew I wasn't going to follow him to LA, and I had no clue how to tell him, but he sat there tattooing his destiny on his skin, sealing his fate. There was no going back.

Maybe I should have gotten words inked on my skin that day, too.

I wonder what it would have changed.

And now, Holden's eyes are on me, and while in reality nothing has changed, a lot has. He eases his cock into my opening, the tip of it pressing in me, and I close my eyes again. The relief of finally getting this moment with him, throwing all caution to the wind, is overwhelming.

"You okay, Bex?" Holden asks, his arm cradled under me as his other hand guides his cock into my tight pussy, widening me. It hurts. But also ... it feels so right.

"It's okay, just push through," I tell him, then laugh at my own indelicate phrasing. "It's okay."

His cock is so big, and my body stretches to hold him. When he’s in me, filling me, I open my eyes; my mouth drops open into an O, because oh, holy shit, this is bliss.

He starts moving in me, deepening our connection. My pussy throbs with pleasure as his cock presses tight against my pussy walls, every ridge of him hard and alive and pulsing within me. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he snakes an arm around my back, holding me to him.

He rocks against me as I near climax, looking down into my eyes, and I know he sees me the way I see him.

What could have been.

I moan in pleasure, tears in my eyes, as an orgasm floods over me. It breaks down every barrier I’ve built to keep myself from feeling so much goodness, all at once. My trusty vibrator is a joke in comparison. His cock presses deep in me as he holds still, coming in my pussy, and I wish for a stupid moment that there was no condom on his cock. I want all of him in me, no barriers on his end either.

Our bodies are sweaty, and we can't speak, so instead he kisses my lips, my forehead, my neck and my nose. He rolls to my side, not letting me go, and all I can think is
finally
.

Finally.

Finally.