Smoking Holt (4 page)

“It’s hardly comprehensive.”

Her lips flapped. “It’s perfectly comprehensive.
 I ordered practically everything from the catalog.”

He just snorted. “At any rate, it’s pretty clear you don’t understand a thing about the life, if you think it’s about a man bullying a woman.
The Dom is not the one in control,” he said. “Not in a truly healthy D/s relationship. Not in my relationships. The sub calls the shots. Draws the lines. It’s a partnership, Bella, where the sub controls everything.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That is hard to believe.”

“I’d be happy to give you a demonstration.” The way he said it, with that quirk of his dark brow, the glint in his eyes, sent a ripple of exasperation—and something else—through her.

“Fuck you, Holt.”

He grinned. “Okay.”

Goddamn it. She wasn’t sure which annoyed her more. His simmering sensuality or his goddamn teasing. Both were nearly irresistible.
Against her will, her lips tweaked in a smile. He would take a smile as encouragement, she was certain of it.

Sure enough, he took that last, lethal step and yanked her into his arms, sealing them together.
He was hot, hard, huge. She tipped up her chin and glared at him, opened her mouth to say something else, something pithy and snarky. Something that would drive him away and give her room to fucking breathe—

But he didn’t give her time. No time to think of something pithy. No time to prepare. No time to shore up her defenses.

His mouth took hers. There was no other way to describe it. He covered her, smothered her, soaked her with his taste and his scent, suffused her with sensation. The rub of his lips over hers, the nibbles, the nips, the bold forays of his tongue, all scrambled her brain. His hands molded her ass, rubbing her against his body, dragging her groin over his. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware that he was guiding her, moving her, walking her backwards in a relentless drive to crawl inside her.

And then she hit the wall.

Literally.

He backed her up against the wood paneling of the great room and pressed against her. His cock was like a stone. A fat, throbbing stone.
Burning against the tender flesh of her belly.

A flash of pure, unadulterated lust
whipped through her. Because he was hard. For her.

Oh sure, he’d probably be hard if he was mouth fucking Kristi here against the wood paneling. Or Emily. Or Lucy.

Or Lassie.

But this one was for her.

She knew she should push him away. As goddamn aggressive as he was, Holt would respect a “No” from a woman. But something deep within her recoiled at the prospect of ending this. 

Not just yet.

It was too fucking thrilling.

A chance like this would never come again. Not in a million years.

She could fuck him tonight. Have a crazy, dirty, sweaty fuckfest and then tomorrow, blame it on the whiskey.

His lips released hers, but only so he could move to her neck, to work her, suckle her, nibble on the sensitive screaming skin there. Bella threw back her head so he had better access. She lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist, plastering her slit against the monstrosity bulging at the juncture of his thighs.

“Shit,” he growled, undulating against her. Delight washed through her in waves. She scored his scalp in a rake of need.

“You
 are not tying me up,” she grunted.

He lifted his head. His scorching gaze sl
ammed through her, making her clit throb, her pussy clench. A warm wetness dampened her inner thighs. Her panties were soaked. “You’re in charge here, Bella,” he said, his voice breaking on the words. “You make the rules.”

“And no fucking whips and chains.” He chuckled.
Incensed by his mocking tone, she fisted his hair and yanked. “And no goddamn nipple clamps.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As though she’d reminded him she had nipples, he thumbed them, then brought his fingers together. Tightly. The pinch made her knees go weak. She hissed, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a feral groan.

“You like that? You like it a little rough?” His voice was silky and smooth. Practiced. As though he’d said these words before. To thousands of women.

“Fuck you, Holt.”  She glared at him. When he grinned, laughed at her vehemence, she wrenched him closer. This time she took his mouth. Ravaged his mouth. Fucked his mouth. She thrust in her tongue, explored, dominated him.

Yeah. He’d fucked legions. But he would remember her. He would fucking remember her.

She’d make damn sure of it.

Holy God.

He’d always suspected. He’d always known Bella would be a
tigress in bed. But he hadn’t realized. Hadn’t really known just how wild she could be.

It inflamed him.

All rational thoughts—thoughts of a sweet seduction, thoughts of gentle coaxing, thoughts of tender temptation—evaporated.

Holt was possessed by one singular need.

Sinking into her.

He’d wanted her for so long.
Fantasized about her. Obsessed over her. It had killed him that every time he’d so much as glanced at her, she’d scowled back at him. Her nose had wrinkled. Lips pursed.

He’d been convinced she hated him. Hated his lifestyle at least.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

He’d always been good at reading women. He could sniff out a sub in a crowded room. He’d never gotten that vibe from Bella. But when he’d p
inched her nipples, he’d seen it. That look in her eyes. Just a flash, hooded and guarded, but he’d seen it.

As though she kept it buried so deeply, even she didn’t know.

The knowledge set him on fire.

He ached to discover more. To
learn all her hidden secrets.

But he knew better.

With Bella, he would have to allow her to reveal them. One at a time. When she was ready. This, he knew instinctively. It took everything in him to hold back, let her take the lead.

What he really wanted to do was yank off her damn jeans, and those pink panties he had spotted when he’d
toyed with her clit earlier. What he really wanted to do was fuck her, hard and fast, right here, right now, against this wall.

Hell, what he really wanted was her draped over his knee, writhing, her creamy ass high and turning red with his handprints. He knew, deep in his heart, she’d like it. She’d love it. But he also knew they weren’t there yet. By far.

He wanted those things, but he wanted something else more.

He wanted this to work between them.

He wanted something real with her.

So he willed the beast within to be patient. He let her take the lead. He let her flail him with her fury.

The feel of her nails scoring his skin, her soft tongue thrusting into his mouth, her heated crotch rubbing against his, made his pulse pound.

He wanted, needed, more.

Now.

“Bella.” He broke away
, though it nearly killed him. Her lids were hooded, her lips parted. Her breathing uneven. “We should move into the bedroom.”

He should have just done it. Just picked her up—she was a tiny thing—and haul
ed her off to the room off the hall. The bed was big. And it had four posters—

Brutally, h
e squashed that thought.

They weren’t there yet either.

It took some effort to remind himself.
She
needed to take the lead. And he needed to let her.

She blinked, as though it took a moment for his suggestion to filter through the lust. Then she slowly released him and nodded. “Okay.”

God, it was hard letting her go. Releasing his hold on her exquisite curvy form. Easing away from her warmth, her softness.

But
he was following her lead. Like a well-trained pup.

I
nto the bedroom.

That
, in itself, was something pretty damn phenomenal.

Lane’s room
was the only bedroom on the first floor, but Lane wasn’t coming this weekend. Holt loved that she headed for that room and not one of the others. Because it was closer.

Clearly,
she was as anxious as he to get naked and naughty.

But once they were both in the room, she staring at him and he staring right back, an awkward
silence descended.  He could see the second thoughts swelling in her eyes.

Oh, hell no.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. Again, pure instinct. Reading her. Hoping he got it right.

A
question flickered across her brow.

“You’re in charge, Bella. Remember?”

It was amazing, watching her expression change. From a welling resistance, to that hint of confusion, to realization. And then—and this made a pulse slam in his aching cock—determination.

She licked her lips.
“Strip.”

Oh yeah.

Even though he was a man of experience, that one word made him feel like a virgin with his first woman.

He wanted to whip off his clothes, but knew better. He knew Bella. She was a bundle of contradictions. It stood to reason she would appreciate another
recalcitrant soul.

So he did it slowly.

First he sloughed off his leather jacket, meticulously draping it over the back of the chair. Then he leisurely unbuckled his leather chaps, letting them fall to the floor.

He glanced at her just in time to see her swallow.
She tracked his every move. Slowly, deliberately, he raised the hem of his black t-shirt, studying every aspect of her face.

God, he loved her face. She was beautiful on a bad day with alabaster skin and wide
baby blue eyes. Her delicate chin had a tiny cleft. He loved the wink of the diamond stud in her freckled nose. But right now, staring at his body like that, as he slowly revealed his abs and chest, with her lips parted and lust etched on every feature—lust for him—she’d never been more desirable.

He paused with his shirt halfway off and her
focus flicked upward. He smiled. She frowned.

“Do it,” she
whispered. Her fingers curled into fists, as though she had to restrain herself from finishing it for him.

He pulled his shirt all the way off and dropped it.

And waited.

“The pants too.” Her voice cracked.
 

He pulled out his wallet first. Opened it and found the foil packet. Tossed it on the bed. She watched every movement like a starving woman. Then he fiddled with his belt buckle. He took his time, because he was enjoying this too damn much to rush.

She fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other. He sat on the chair and removed his boots. Then stood and unsnapped his jeans. Her tongue snaked out to wet her lips. With excruciating slowness, he drew his zipper down.

“Do it
.”

Holding her gaze, he peeled the denim from his body.

Her attention skated downward, slowly, then stalled. Her features tightened as she fixated on his cock, still encased in his cotton briefs. He hooked his thumbs in the elastic and sloughed those off as well.

His cock, rampant and roused, sprang free.

Her lips parted, trembled. She breathed a sigh.

“Now what?”

She jumped a little, as though he had interrupted a reverie. But it didn’t take her long to issue her next command.

“Undress me.”

Holy God. If he hadn’t been hard and aching before, he was now. Just hearing those words, from her, sent a scalding lust skittering along every screaming nerve. “Yes ma’am.”

It wasn’t a large room, but it seemed to take an eternity to cross it.
He halted before her and looked down at her, reveling in the moment. Then he grasped the hem of her t-shirt and lifted it. The air gushed out of his lungs as he revealed her torso, and her bra-clad breasts. She lifted her arms and he slipped the shirt off.