Each time she bounces on my balls, it’s like torture.
“Oh, Christ,” I groan through gritted teeth.
I tilt my head and close my eyes when she starts gyrating her hips in circles. I suspect she’s trying to grind her clit against me. The mind-blowing sensation is surreal after too many months without pussy.
I grip her hips more forcefully, demanding more of her.
She doesn’t shy away.
She’s riding my cock with newfound confidence.
“You’re too quiet,” I tell her.
“I can’t put any of this into words. I don’t understand what's happening to my body. Things I've never felt before.”
“It's good?”
“It's fucking amazing,” she grins wide.
I lean in and thread my fingers in her silky hair before fisting it gently.
“Your delectable body is mine.”
When I tighten my grip, she smiles seductively, tempting me even further. With a steady pull on her hair, I force her to lock eyes with me. “Yeah,” I grunt. “No hands. You can’t touch me, but I can touch you.”
How does my little donut dominatrix respond? She starts contracting her muscles in quick staccato pulses.
“Fucking Christ!” I scream out.
My plea does little to stop her.
It's like she's possessed.
The weight of her arms presses heavily against my shoulders as she bounces up and down on my cock.
I’m about to lose my fucking mind.
“Oh, my God. Holt. Oh, God, your cock,” she chants over and over again.
She's like a woman in a trance.
Honestly, I'm not faring much better.
I was ready for this to be a shy encounter, but she surprises me.
My extended self-imposed abstinence leaves me with little recourse. I drill into her like a piston, fucking her hard and relentless. I’m like a starved savage beast without much of a conscience. Even though I want her more than I’ve wanted a woman in a long time, I’m still a gentleman. I steal as much pleasure as I bestow on her. It’s only right.
Unaware of my mental struggle, Everly keeps grinding and bouncing off my balls.
“I want to touch you,” she pants.
“You can’t. I control this. Your only job is to surrender.” Given how much I’m struggling, I’m surprised I’m able to form a sentence, let alone three.
My answer does little to deter her. With her hands still bound, she folds them so her fingers interlace in my hair. She presses my head against hers and offers her lips.
How can I resist?
Our lips meet in a passionate kiss. The closeness causes her nipples to scratch at my chest. The delicious tingling sensation only heightens the potency of our tongues dancing together.
Fuck.
I lose myself in her sweet pussy. Each pump gets me closer to shooting my load deep inside her.
My feverish tempo threatens to stop my heart.
Does that slow me down?
Not a chance.
How can I?
She’s as unrestrained as I am.
The temperature in the room is at volcanic levels. Even though it’s dark, the glare from the moonlight allows me to catch a glimpse of the string of sweat beads glistening against her skin.
Unable to contain myself, I lean forward and run my tongue against her shoulder, dragging it until I reach her neck.
“You fit so well around my cock,” I say before sinking my teeth into her supple skin.
“Holt.” She says my name in a smoky groan.
“Yeah?”
“I think—”
She closes her eyes and clenches her pussy hard.
“Shit, that feels good,” I growl.
She opens her eyes and the lust emanating from them is so heady.
“You rock my world,” she says.
Every note reverberates throughout my body and straight to my cock.
I’m done.
I clamp my right hand tight on her hip and place the other against the mattress behind me for support. She shifts on top of me, without slowing down her cadence.
I drop a tender kiss on her lips. “I’m close, precious. I need you to come.”
“I don’t know if I—”
“Tsk.” I place my thumb against her clit and silence her.
I swing my hips up, pumping hard into her as my thumb skates around her hard clit.
“I don’t—”
“You and I have an agreement,” I remind her.
“But— I—”
“No. That’s not the answer I’m looking for, precious. I expect you to give me what I want,” I demand. I press her clit between my fingers trapping all the blood in one spot.
“Oh. Oh. Oh. Ooohhh!” she wails loudly.
She clenches my cock so tight with her pussy it takes my breath away.
“I can’t believe this.” She lets out a low moan before closing her eyes.
“What is it, precious?” I pant.
“Dear God, I’m coming. I’m fucking coming,” she yells. It sounds like she’s suffering, but the hedonistic expression painted on her face suggests otherwise.
“Let go, precious. Give it to me.”
And she does.
The sensation of the juices trickling down my cock and my thighs is sublime.
I’m all set to take my pleasure, but she starts grinding her hips back and forth pressing her clit against me.
She isn’t done yet.
“Ah,” she gasps.
I slide my fingers between us and start rubbing against her clit.
“I—I’m— Again—”
“You’re going to give me another?”
“God!” she shouts.
“Take what’s yours. Squeeze my orgasm out of me,” I grunt.
Her head falls against my chin and she goes limp in my arms. “You. Holt.” The softness and tenderness with which she whispers my name is unexpected.
As she frantically contracts her muscles around my cock, it’s a reminder that my aching balls are begging for relief. I squeeze my eyes shut and thrust deep into her one last time.
“Fuck, precious!” I roar as pleasure courses throughout my entire body.
CHAPTER 14
Everly
Like a lifeless—and thoroughly satisfied—soul, I’m slumped against this gorgeous man who’s done things to my body I still fail to understand. With my head against his chest, I can hear his heartbeat. Mine is pounding as hard. I close my eyes and I focus on his ragged breathing as his scent engulfs me.
He smells like a man.
Holt’s strong hands stroke up and down my back tenderly and I purr inwards.
I could stay like this forever.
He’s fucked me into silence. Yup. I’ve lost all power of speech. If I could speak, I would shout from the top of the highest mountain, I, Everly Reed Bickford-Smith, have just lived through my first out-of-body experience.
One steamy encounter later and Holt Christensen has laid all of my sexual woes to rest.
I can have an orgasm.
Amen and hallelujah!
Thank you, God.
I can’t believe I’ve lived this long without understanding what all the fuss was about.
Ainsley was right all along.
It was never like this with my ex. Not even close.
Holt embraces me a little tighter before whispering in my ear, “Are you still with me?”
“I think I’ve just transcended to the afterlife.”
“If I can still hear you, I think you’re still in this one,” he chuckles.
“Semantics,” I borrow his earlier word.
“Cheeky baker.”
“I already told you. It’s donut dominatrix,” I joke.
He chuckles.
“Damn, Everly, that pussy of yours. Oomph,” he exhales. “You know I’m going to need seconds. And thirds. And a fourth time for good measure.”
“You’re crazy. I’ll never survive
.”
“You didn’t think you’d survive the first round and you did. Beautifully.”
“So I didn’t suck?” I ask.
He pulls away from me. His knitted eyebrows suggest he isn’t impressed with my question. “Please tell me I wasn’t the only one who thought that was intense,” his voice wraps around me like a lover’s caress.
“It was incredible. Scratch that. It was mind-blowing. Soul-shaking. Earth-shattering.” I pause, casting my gaze where we’re still connected. “But maybe it was only me—”
“I can’t fake an orgasm. I came hard because I wanted you so damn much.” My cheeks burn up. “So to answer your question, it was as powerful for you as it was for me.”
Holt runs his strong hands up and down my back and it reminds me he still has full control. He hasn’t untied my hands yet and I’m in no rush to ask.
“Really?”
He leans in and takes my lips in a soft and languid kiss. This is dramatically different from the way he ravished my mouth a few minutes ago.
“Really,” he whispers when he pulls away from me.
I beam.
“Since we’re exchanging compliments and all. Your cock is pretty impressive.”
“Is it?”
I can’t tell you how my stomach does somersaults at his boyish smile.
“You surely didn’t overpromise. You do have mad skills, Mr. Christensen.”
He laughs.
“I told you.”
“You did,” I smile shyly.
“Thanks for trusting me.”
“It felt right.”
“I agree.” He pauses. “Which begs the question…” he lets his words trail.
“I’m afraid to ask which one,” I say.
“You’re such a responsive lover—”
“I am?”
“I don’t recall any other donut dominatrix coming all over my cock. Not to mention the way you clenched me like a vice. I had no other choice but to tip over with you.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I barely stroked your clit and you were already climaxing.”
“I’m still in awe how easily you did that.”
“Trade secret.”
“Funny.”
“Seriously, Everly. How did you end up with missionary-fan-straight-laced-polo-boy?”
I really didn’t see that one coming.
I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s a long story.”
“If you’d rather not share, I understand,” he says.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to determine how much I’m willing to tell him.
“I can see it’s a sore subject—”
“I’m not willing—I guess I should say I’m not ready—to talk about everything, but I can share parts of it—”
“I’m okay with that,” he tells me.
“I’ve already started telling you about Dalton, I might as well tell you the rest.”
“Dalton?”
“Dalton Miles Conley Akesdotter III.”
“Pompous name,” Holt says.
“Pompous ex. That said, his mother, Sieglinde Beatrice Mathilda Montserrat—and those are all her first names—wins gold when it comes to being pretentious.” Bitch.
“This should be interesting.”
“Oh, it’s a bundle of laughs.” The sarcasm is very present in my voice.
“Let me remove your shackles and you can tell me all about Dalton and Mommy Sieglinde.”
“Thank you, master. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“Has anybody ever told you that you have an underlying unsatisfied kink?”
We both laugh.
Holt places his hands underneath my armpits, lifts me up like I weigh nothing more than a feather and drops me to my feet.
“You’re still so wet.” His eyes shine dark in the moonlight as he watches my face. “And your heady scent…” he says, drawing a finger along my wetness, causing me to whimper.
“Ah,” I gasp. “You’re playing dirty.”
He squints his eyes and without warning sticks his finger between his lips and sucks on it while making these lewd noises. “Now I’m playing dirty,” he says.
God, it’s so naughty when he does that.
Is it wrong to admit I absolutely love it?
“Are you going to untie me now?” I ask.
“Or what, donut dominatrix? You’ll crack your whip?” he grins.
His tone is mocking, but he unties my wrists.
To my great surprise, he doesn’t let go of my hands. Instead, he starts massaging my wrists in slow soothing motions.
“That’s very sweet of you,” I say.
“Thank you for the compliment, but it has nothing to do with me being sweet. It’s just me being a responsible dom,” he winks.
“Oh, so now it’s a reversal of roles?”
“I was just pretending to give you a leg up. On a serious note, aftercare is important. We were both wild. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“A dom and a gentleman.”
He chuckles.
“How was it being tied?” he asks.
“I liked it,” I blush furiously.
“Surrendering all control gets you off?”
You get me off.
“I guess so,” I say.
“Would you be willing to try it again?”
I’d be willing to try pretty much anything with you. “Yes.”
“My deviant dominatrix.”
I can’t help but giggle like a girl.
He shifts his gaze down to my wrists. “You might have a little redness tomorrow, but it should fade away pretty quickly. We didn’t play rough.” Oh, there’s more? “That said, it might influence your wardrobe selection.”
“Ah, I see. Long sleeves it is.”
He massages me for so long, I start to feel incredibly uncomfortable. I’m taking without giving back.
“I feel like a pampered queen.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “It’s my job to take care of you,” he says.
“Part of the dom’s code of conduct?” I tease.
I expect him to tease back, but he doesn’t. “Clearly polo boy didn’t know shit and he surely didn’t know how to treat you.”
I’m stumped. I don’t even know how to answer. So I don’t.
“What a fucker,” Holt mumbles under his breath.
A few more minutes and he’s done.
“Let me go get you some water. There must be a mini bar out there.”
“There is.”
“Sit tight.”
“Okay.”
Watching him walk away butt naked is so darn sexy. Six-foot-something of deliciousness.
Lucky me!
“The fridge is packed! I’ll take care of the incidentals,” he says when he waltzes back into the room holding two bottles of water.
“It’s covered.”
“In that case, I’ll be back.” He flashes me a wide smile before heading out of the bedroom.
I laugh.
“Is champagne good for you, precious?” he yells from the other room.
I love the nickname he has for me.
“Yes,” I yell back.
Watching him walk back into the room is even better.
I bite my lower lip to keep myself from grinning.
Damn, that cock is a work of art.
“Moët & Chandon for you and whiskey for me,” he says, handing me my glass.
“Thank you,” I say, taking it from him.
“And macadamia nuts for later,” he says, dropping the large packet tucked underneath his armpit.
“My favorite,” I say.
“Mine too.”
“I love the way you think. Cheers!” I lift my glass up.
“Cheers!” he says, clinking his glass with mine. “Let’s get under the covers,” he suggests. “I can’t wait to hear about this guy.”
When we get in bed, it’s a struggle for me not to laugh out loud at the height diff
erence. My tiny legs are no match for his long ones.
I turn around to look at him and everything about his expression suggests he’s waiting.
I launch into story mode.
“I met Dalton at a splashy fundraiser gala I was attending with my parents and my sister when I was eighteen. He’s two years older—”
“How old are you now?”
“I’m twenty-four. And you?”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“Whoa, you’re much older, Mr. Christensen.”
“Is that a problem?” he asks.
I ponder on my response for a few short seconds.
“I’m just surprised I’d catch the attention of an older guy.”
“Age has nothing to do with it. It’s about the connection.”
I much prefer his take on things.
I smile and nod.
“So you’re okay with me being an old guy?”
I shrug. “Since you’re a fit old guy, I guess it is,” I joke.
“Don’t push your luck, little donut dominatrix,” he laughs. “Sorry, I interrupted you.”
“It’s okay,” I shake my head. “Dalton was charming, well-educated, handsome and he came from a very good family. So many women were after him, but he seemed to be interested in me. I didn’t think twice when he invited me out. After a few dates, things became serious. He was studying law when we started dating. Three years into our relationship, everything changed. Cruella de Vil.”
Holt frowns confusion.
“His mother, Sieglinde.”
“Got it.”
“Since he was going to inevitably inherit a sizable trust fund and a massive fortune, she had convinced Dalton to set his sights on loftier goals.”
“Which were?” Holt asks.
“The White House.”
“Wow. I’m sure a political life can be rewarding, but it’s like living in a fishbowl. I’d be willing to bet politicians have less privacy than we do as rock stars.”
“Exactly. It was never my aspiration to become a political wife, let alone the First Lady. I thought maybe it was a passing thing, but little remarks Sieglinde would drop here and there made it clear. She was really serious. This wasn’t just talk.”
“What kind of remarks?”
“She felt a future First Lady should aspire to something more prestigious than a rinky-dink degree in baking. ‘There’s no honor in getting your hands dirty. That’s why you hire help and pay them minimum wage’.”
Torrid Rush: A Single Dad Romance (Bad Boy Studs Book 3) Page 12
