Smoking Holt (5 page)

G
lorious. She was glorious.

She was a tiny thing, but perfectly shaped.
His palm itched to cup her, but he didn’t.

To hell with whips and chains. This was real discipline. And it was killing him.

But he was determined.

He knelt before her and unsnapped her jeans, easing them over her hips. To save time—because, frankly, his patience was wearing thin—he drew down her panties with them.

His breath caught as her smooth slit hove into view.

Mother of
God.

She stepped out of her jeans and he whipped them out of the way. And he stared at her.

“Now what?” he croaked.

Words. Not flowing.

Thoughts, frozen.

Her scent, her heat, rose to greet him.

He ached for a taste.

When she didn’t answer, other than to spread her legs—infinitesimally—he did what he wanted. What he needed.
What he ached for.

Without her permission, he set his hands on her hips and drew his tongue along her slit. Just traced it. Just a tease. For both of them.

She whimpered. Threaded her fingers in his hair. Tugged him closer.

Yeah. Okay. Permission enough.

He delved deeper, licking his way between her folds, seeking and discovering that hard nubbin sheathed within. He dabbed it. Circled it. Tested it with his tongue.

“Ah,” she groaned and spread her thighs more.

He nuzzled in, glorying in her taste, her scent. It soaked into him, infused him, maddened him.

But he remained tentative. Cautious.

This was a seduction, still. Even though she was nearly bare assed naked. But it was killing him. He wanted to toss her onto the bed, cover her, sink inside.

She was wet. Ready. At least physically. He needed her ready on all levels. He needed her crazy for him. Aching for him. Wild for him.

“More,” she growled, and his pulse leapt.

Yes. Yes. More.

He drew her clit between his lips and sucked, then fluttered his tongue over the swollen flesh. She gasped, groaned, arched into him.

He held her still
, sinking his fingers into the lush globes of her ass, and doubled his efforts. She was so lush. He loved the way her muscles clenched, the way her skin rippled to his touch.

She tasted like heaven.
Ambrosia. A hot, wet woman, tremendously aroused.

When she broke away from him he winced. He didn’t like that at all. But she broke away and headed for the bed.
That
he liked that very much.

He really liked that she dragged him with her. By the hair.

They settled down on the soft mattress, side by side. Chest to chest.  He tugged a bra strap down, and then the other, slowly revealing the mounds of her breasts.

His breath
stalled. He couldn’t resist. He took one crest, and then the other, into his mouth, nuzzling, sucking, lapping. He pressed her breasts together, as he’d ached to do earlier, buried his face between them and breathed deep.

So soft. So sweet. So incredibly tantalizing.

She pulled his head up and kissed him, a gentle buss. He ached to take it to another level, to open his mouth and take her in. Guide her. Instruct her. Dominate her. The effort to hold back made him tremble.

H
er palm skated over his chest, exploring. It was the first time she’d touched him like this. Really
touched
him. The tentative caress sent ripples of excitement down his spine. They nested at the base of his cock.

Fuck.

He wanted her.

He wanted her bad.

Lifting his head, he looked at her. Lust sizzled between them. He swallowed against the aching lump in his throat.

“
Now what?” The question took every ounce of his flagging restraint.

Please G
od. Let her say “fuck me.” Let her say “Fuck me, now.”

He was driving her crazy. Frustration screamed through her. This was Holt Lamm, for god’s sake. Why was he being so tentative? She wanted him to fuck her. To lay her back, yank her thighs apart and shove that big, hard cook in deep.

But he didn’t.

He kept saying “Now what?” in that tender patient tone—

Her heart stuttered then thudded painfully.

Oh. God.

That was it.

He’d told her she was in charge. She made the rules. He was letting her take charge. He wouldn’t do anything unless she told him to.

The idiot.

She should punish him. She should just command him to lick her pussy again until she came and then just thank him politely and walk away—but the smoldering cauldron in her womb wouldn’t allow it. She needed him in her, deep and hard. And she needed it now.

“Where’s that condom?”

The relief on his face was so profound, she felt a ping of guilt for making him wait, but she pressed it away. When it came to Holt, there was no need for guilt or pity or politesse.

Holt was a fortress. A fucking machine. There were no tender
sentiments lingering in his soul of souls. She didn’t have to worry about hurting his feelings or wounding his ego. He fucked women and walked away every day. She was no different. She was nothing to him.

Still, she liked the way he scrambled for that foil packet. She liked it a lot. He ripped it open and
unrolled it over his cock. She watched, avidly tracking every move.

God, he was beautiful.

His cock was large, hard, insistent. She loved the fat head, the long, shaft, thickly veined, the nest of dark hairs at the base. His attention, as he pulled the latex in place, was absolute. Her gaze drifted over his face, his high cheekbones and the sharp chin covered with manly scruff.

H
e turned back to her, eyes alight, ready to say, “Now what?” once more and she couldn’t help it. She cupped his cheeks and pulled him close and kissed him.

His breath gusted into her mouth; she’d surprised him with her greedy attack, but he settled into it. Settled into her. He
pressed her back on the bed and nudged her thighs apart. Her bra, still wrapped around her torso, bothered her, but his chest, scraping against her bare nipples, distracted her from that discomfort.

And then—dear God—something else distracted her. Distracted her entirely.

He found her entrance, slick and ready—and slipped in.

She groaned as he filled her. Shivers of delight wracked her. God. It was
amazing. He was amazing.

He huffed
out a breath as he seated himself inside her. Shuddered. His cock pulsed, “N-now what?” She loved that his voice cracked when then said those damned words.

“Fuck me, Holt. Fuck me hard.”

Something flared in his eyes. He lifted his hips and pushed her legs farther apart, opening her. But the move tightened her as well. She bit back a whimper.

She was not a
whimperer. She would not whimper.

He pulled out and thrust in again, and again. Each lunge in a new direction. Finding, stroking, delighting a new bundle of weeping nerves
with each foray. She couldn’t help it. She grabbed his ass, clutching him, guiding him.

But he needed no g
uidance. Somehow, he knew just what to do. Just how to move.

Tension rose within her as he worked away, breathing into her ear in little puffs. She groaned as he hit a particular spot. He stilled for a second and then
deliberately did it again.

“Yes,” she huffed. “Yes. There.”

He growled something in his throat and changed angles, increasing his pace, pummeling her with a manic barrage. He sucked a nipple into his mouth. Nibbled. Bit.

The sharp pain surprised her, but what surprised her even more was the wash of arousal it evoked. “God, yes,” she snarled, planting her feet on the bed and arching up into him.

“You like that?” He didn’t wait for a response. Did it again.

Waves
of delight and agony and need raced through her. The juxtaposition of sensation, the stinging at her breast, the singing of her womb, all befuddled her. Her brain ceased to function. She was nothing, nothing but a welter of pleasure. A desperate woman, filled to the brim with the cock of the man she wanted more than anything—had wanted forever.

It was fucking awesome.

He yanked out and she winced, clung to him, but he pulled away. She was about to wail, protest, complain, when he flipped her over.

One strong hand to her hip. A flick of his wrist. As though she were thistledown, he turned her. Lifted her hips. Yanked her legs apart.

And, before she could process this new position, he drove in. Deep.

Everything in her seized.

God. Fuck. Shit.

This new position, with him looming over her, grasping the cheeks of her ass, guiding her movements, controlling her, plowing in and in, made her weak.
Telltale shivers skittered through her lower body. Little flutters, harkening her impending explosion, grew. She sucked in a lungful of air and pushed back against him as he fucked her, fighting for domination. When that didn’t work, she tightened around him. He stilled, buried deep inside, and shuddered, groaned. So she did it again.

His response
was feral, a growl that might have been her name.

He
took her hips in a tight grasp and held her steady, though she wanted to move. Wanted him to resume that manic pile-driving action that had her so close to rapture. But he didn’t.

Slowly, he pushed her away. She shuddered as he withdrew.
Then he eased her back, impaling her. Again and again. Tormenting her with his agonizing patience.

With each long slow drag, he filled her. Perfectly.

Also, as she moved back and forth beneath his guiding hand, her nipples scraped over the bedspread, sending shards of exquisite pain through her.

She ached. Everywhere.
Twitched with impatience and need. So close to coming. So close…

The palm, landing on her ass, shocked her.

The sharp sting, certainly. But the shot of pure, unadulterated scalding lust shocked her even more.

She whipped her head around and stared at him over her shoulder. His features were tight. His jaw clamped. His nostrils flared. He drew his
palm over the burning spot on her ass. “Now what, Bella?” He paired the question with a tiny thrust, as though he wanted to hold back, torment her, but he just couldn’t hold back completely.

It nearly undid her.

That tiny little thrust.

It told her, showed her, he was as crazed as she.

No matter what. No matter what happened tomorrow or the day after that or the day after that, he wanted her now.

“
Do it Holt. Fuck me hard.”

The expression on his face made her quiver. Hot, hard, hungry man. A beast. A warrior. A dominant male.

His palm landed again and sensation scorched her. She wailed, but pushed back against him, clutching his cock with wet folds. He shivered. Pulsed inside her.

And then
he went wild.

He still held her
steady, but this time, he was the one moving. Hard. Fast. Deep. He pounded into her in a wild welter, a barrage of thrusts and lunges and manic plunges, each accompanied by a guttural groan.

“Yes,” he growled. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Her ass stung. Her nipples burned. Her womb ached.

That small flutter
swelled.

Bella knew she was close. Kn
ew that her crisis was upon her.

She arched up and looked back at him. Their gazes locked. She saw the panic, the desperation, the
cataclysm in his eyes.

“Bella.” He mouthed her name. And then, louder. “Bella.”

His cock swelled. Surged.

He rele
ased his tight hold on her hips, hunched over her and slipped a hand between her legs, seeking and finding her hard, wet, clit.

It took one pass. One tender, tentative pass, and she came.

The ripples deep within grew as the wave spread outward. Swelling and welling and filling her soul. Pleasure swamped her. She closed her eyes and cradled her head in her arms.

And then, at the very peak—the peak she’d known many times before—his fingers closed. On her. On her clit. And he tugged.

Something. Something completely knew, utterly foreign in her experience, took her, ate her raw. This new sensation, an orgasm unlike anything she’d ever felt, consumed her, possessed her, whipped through her like a wildfire in a summer-dry forest.

He came with her, his jerking
cock scraping over her super-sensitized flesh as he spasmed, driving her higher and higher still. Like a lost soul, she thrashed, wailed.