The Nice Boxset

by Jasinda Wilder

  He silenced her with a kiss. Not a chaste kiss, not a playful kiss, not a hesitant or slow kiss. No, his lips devoured hers like he was starving for her, like he was aching for her, like she was water and he was lost in a desert. His hands kept her face pulled to his and his body pinned her back against the couch, his heat radiating against her and his hardness pressing into her softness. She could feel his heart hammering like a drum in his chest, as if he was as nervous as she was. Her hands, clenched in his sweater at his chest, uncurled and slid up, wrapped around the back of his neck and feathered in the soft black hair at his nape. She lifted up on her toes and deepened the kiss, gasping into his mouth as his tongue slashed between her lips.

  Declan’s hands left her face and went to her shoulders, and then down her arms, and then to her back. His fingers danced over her bare skin where it was revealed by the opening of the dress, and toyed with the tab of the zipper. Pulling her a step forward, his hands now explored downward until they came to a hesitant stop at the upper swell of her hips, and then his mouth left hers, left her gasping and staring up at him with parted lips and hammering heart.

  “Tell me if this is okay, Holls. I don’t want to push you. I just…I want you. I can’t help it.”

  She felt her blood rushing hot and wild, felt a frenetic need for him, a burning hunger. She stared up at him and felt courage gathering in her belly. “Dec…I don’t want you to be able to help it. I want…”

  He dipped and nipped at her lower lip, kissing her as if sipping at a fine wine. “What, Holls? What do you want?”

  “Push me, a little. Be gentle, but…Declan, it’s been so long and I’m scared, and I want you to…lead us…I guess. That sounds stupid, maybe. I just want you kiss me and not stop. I’m here because I want this, Dec. So…don’t stop.”

  Declan backed away from her, tangled his hands with hers, and led her around the couch, walking backward to the spiral stair. He nudged her up the first step, and then she had to focus on navigating the steep spiral upward. She felt his gaze on her ass the entire way, and felt herself unconsciously putting a little extra sway in her hips. She glanced down at him, and saw that his eyes were indeed glued to her backside. So focused was she on the hungry, needy, appreciative look on his face that she missed a step, tripped upward, and felt her skirt fly immodestly upward, her hands catching the tread of a step.

  Declan’s hands caught her hips, trapping the material of her skirt around her hips, baring her legs to the thigh, and the lower edge of her bottom. “Okay?” Declan asked.

  Holly could only nod and straighten, brushing her skirt down automatically. But then she remembered why she was here, and what was about to happen. Before she could second guess herself, she shot Declan a sly smirk and lifted the back of her skirt up past her waist, flashing him her ass, and then let the fabric fall back down.

  Declan groaned. “Jesus, Holls. Are you trying to kill me?”

  She smiled at the heat in his tone, and then focused on making it the rest of the way up the stairs without further incident. At the top, she discovered a nook with a king size bed, a single nightstand on the right side of the bed, and a doorway leading to a walk-through closet and a bathroom beyond. It was, like the loft in general, small and comfortable, luxuriously appointed but not ostentatious. As she cleared the top step, she turned to face Declan.

  “I like your apartment,” She told him, by way of conversation to cover her nerves. “It’s comfortable. Inviting.”

  He grinned. “It’s perfect for me. I had a bigger place, but it felt…empty. It’s just me, and it’s always been just me, and I just…I hated feeling like a marble rattling around a big old box. So I downgraded.”

  “It suits you.”

  Declan grinned, but the expression resembled the predatory smile of a cat closing in on an unsuspecting mouse. “You know, I have a minor in architecture, if you wanted to discuss the style of the building, or maybe the weather?”

  She felt something clench in her belly as he approached her, took her hips in his hands. “Are you making fun of me, Declan Montrose?”

  He pulled her body flush against his, and she felt the thick ridge of his arousal between them. Her cheeks heated, but her body trembled and her core went hot and damp.

  “Maybe just a little?” He bent and his lips touched her throat.

  “Not…not nice…”

  “I’m just teasing, Holls,” he murmured, and then his mouth stuttered over her skin as he bent and kissed the valley of her cleavage, his hands cupping her hips. “God, your skin tastes like fucking candy.”

  “Peppermint lotion…” Holly muttered.

  Declan laughed, and then resumed his kissing, his lips touching the slope of one breast. Her hands went to his head, threaded through his thick, soft hair and petted down to his neck, to his shoulders, over his hard, muscular back. He was so broad, so powerful…Holly’s breath caught when his lips paused at the edge of the dress where it covered her breast, all thoughts driven from her mind when his fingers trailed up and curled into the cup of her bra. Her heart stopped when he tugged, tugged…

  “Dec…” it wasn’t a protest, just a sound of…need, and nerves.

  He still hesitated, though, and glanced up at her. She stared down at him, sucked in a deep breath that swelled her breasts against the fabric. Her eyes remained fixed on Declan’s as he tugged at the neck of her dress and the cup of the bra, her heart hammering madly as the upper edge of her areola was bared, and then a bit more, and then she wasn’t breathing and her heart was crashing in her chest so hard it almost hurt, because her nipple was freed now, her entire breast bare to the air, and to Declan’s gaze. He slid his finger along the edge of the bra, to the other side, tugged slowly and inexorably at the fabric as he had on the other side, gradually baring her areola and then her rigid nipple, and then her whole breast was resting heavily on the outside of her dress.

  “Jesus, Holls.” His voice was a low murmur.

  She wanted to cover herself, felt self-conscious explanations bubbling at her lips. She’d had two children, had breast-fed both of them. She was past thirty, and her tits weren’t as high and tight as they used to be. She felt her brows tighten with the effort to keep it all back, to just let Declan look at her.

  And if he saw the stretch marks, if he saw the sagging…he didn’t show it. His glance went to hers, and he must have seen something on her face. “Talk to me, Holly.”

  She forced her arms to remain at her sides, rather than covering up. She inhaled and let it out in a sigh. “Dec, I just…I feel self-conscious a little, is all.”

  “Self-conscious?” He sounded genuinely baffled. “What in the hell could you possibly have to feel self-conscious about?”

  She frowned at him. “God, you’re so sweet. Either you’re totally oblivious, or you’re a good dissembler.” She shrugged a shoulder, and her breast lifted and fell with the motion; Declan’s eyes followed the gesture. “I’m a mother of two, Dec. I’ve nursed two children. I’m thirty-four. I’ve got stretch marks, here and on my belly. I’m just…I’m not—”

  Declan cut her off, but not with words. He touched a finger over her mouth. “I could tell you you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and it would be true. I could tell you I don’t see any of that, because I don’t. I could tell you I’m so hard for you right now it legitimately hurts, because I am. I could tell you all the ways I’m planning on making you come, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” He took his finger from her mouth, replaced it with his lips, and then pinched the tab of the zipper at her back, slowly lowering it. “I could tell you all that, but I’d rather show you. I just have one question, Holly.”

  She could barely breathe as he slid the dress off one shoulder, and then the other, and then she couldn’t breathe at all as the material slipped free and fell to pool around her feet, leaving her standing in her underwear, her breasts draped over the cups of her bra, eyes wet with tears of nerves and desire and amazement.

 
“Wh-what, Dec?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Y-yes.” She forced her voice into firmness. “Yeah, I trust you.”

  “Then let me show you how sexy I think you are.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  She nodded, and held her hands out at her sides. “Okay. I want you. I want this. And I trust you.”

  He smiled at her, and the look in his eyes was rife with sensual need, yet also soft with affection. With one finger Declan traced the circumference of her breast, and her nipple hardened into a diamond point. He did the same to the other side, and now her nipples were both so hard they ached, yet when he bent and lapped at the rigid nub of her left nipple with his soft wet tongue, she felt herself harden yet further. She had to press her thighs together to stem the ache down there, yet that only worsened the ache, heightened the pressure. His mouth covered her breast, his palm cupping under the heavy weight and lifting it to his mouth. She had to breathe, yet it was impossible; all she could do was gasp for air and clutch at the back of his head as he sucked and licked at one breast and then the other. While his mouth was busy, Declan’s hands found their way to the clasp of her bra and made short work of opening it. Holly felt no hesitation as she let the undergarment fall from her arms. She stroked her hands through Declan’s hair, and then found a slice of skin near his shoulder, dug her hands under the neck of his sweater in a search for more of his flesh, more of his heat. She tugged at the downy cashmere, gathering it in her hands so the hem rose up his back, and the Declan reached up with both hands and tore the expensive sweater off his head and tossed it aside, along with the plain white T-shirt he wore beneath it. His bared torso was a wonderland of sculpted male perfection, broad shoulders and hard slabs of muscle at his chest and ridged, furrowed abs.

  Holly felt her mouth go dry at the sight of Declan without his shirt, and her gaze raked over him, down his abs to the trail of dark hair leading between the V of muscle that disappeared under his slacks. She had to touch him, had to reach out and run her palms over his shoulders and down his chest, caressing his ribs and then his stomach, but then touching wasn’t enough either, no, she had to taste his skin, had to press her lips to his pec and run her palms around to his back.

  Declan stood still and let her kiss and touch his torso for a moment, but then he was pulling free and burying his mouth against hers, inhaling her breath and tangling his tongue with hers, kissing her until she was faint and dizzy, and his hands were scraping down her sides to the elastic of her panties. She gasped when Declan sank to his knees in front of her, pressing kisses down her front as he went. His palms laid warm and strong against her calves, and then skated slowly upward as his mouth kissed her diaphragm and then her belly and her sides, kissing over the marks left from carrying children, kissing them as if they were part of her beauty rather than detracting from it. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, paused, and then he palmed her ass, cupping and kneading over the silk of her underwear.

  Holly wasn’t breathing, could only gasp for breath now and then and try to remain on her feet as Declan’s hands and mouth put paid to his promise to show her how beautiful he found her.

  She felt beautiful; she felt sexy and desirable.

  So caught up was she in the elaborate web of kisses Declan wove across her belly and hips that she almost missed the moment when he removed her underwear. His mouth was skating featherlight kisses across her thigh and his big hands were exploring the generous swell of her bottom, but then she felt him tug and felt cool air on her skin, and realized only belatedly that she was totally naked now, standing nude in Declan’s bedroom as he knelt before her and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. His head tilted up to regard her, a smile on his face, and then he traced a line with his finger from her ankle to her calf, from her calf to her thigh, and now she was gasping nonstop, holding on to his shoulders and shaking all over. His finger slid around her thigh, teasing the edge of her opening. She saw the gray silk of her underwear on the floor near Declan’s knee, and somehow, seeing the garment on the floor had her shaking at the stark reminder that she was naked, that there was nothing to cover any of her flaws—

  Declan’s mouth covered her core, and her capacity for thought was erased. She had to grip the cords of muscle at his shoulders to stay upright; her head fell back on her shoulders and her breath left her in ragged gasps as his tongue flicked at her opening. His thumbs held her open and his tongue lapped at her, flicked at her clit, sending blasts of heat through her. She felt her knees weaken as pressure mounted in her core, building and going hotter. When he slid a single thick finger inside her, the pressure turned to a volcanic upsurge, and when the finger curled in to scrape against a spot high on her inner wall, she whimpered and her grip on his shoulders was all that kept her upright.

  “Dec, oh my god Declan, I can’t—I can’t stand up any—anymore…”

  His tongue slid up the damp seam of her opening, and then his gaze met her heavy-lidded eyes. “Yes you can. Just hold on to me. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

  His left arm wrapped around her ass, holding her tight against him, his hand cupping her right hip while the fingers of his right hand worked inside her, curling and spearing, withdrawing and pulsing, and his tongue slid against the rigid, buzzing nub of her clitoris over and over and over, flicking and circling and flattening against it until she was leaning over him, her weight pressing down onto his shoulders as her knees grew weaker and weaker. It felt like something was boiling inside her, it felt like some white-hot wire was tightening and coiling in her core, preparing to snap; every sense and nerve-ending she possessed was focused on Dec’s fingers and mouth, and now she felt an edge approaching, a chasm rising up to claim her.

  She heard a sound, a loud, erotic, breathless moaning, and only when he sucked her clit between his teeth and the moan turned to a scream did she realize it was her making those noises. Holly was powerless to stop herself, though. She tried, attempting to clamp her teeth down on a shriek of ecstatic bliss and only succeeded in making herself sound even more wanton when the scream bubbled past her teeth and burst free anyway.

  She felt her hips moving on their own, felt herself grinding against Dec’s mouth, riding his face with her head hanging back on her shoulders, knees bent, only barely remaining upright as wave after wave of lightning and fire blazed through her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge she felt rapidly approaching now. Declan’s hands both went to her ass, now, cupping tightly, fingers curling into the bubble of flesh and gripping hard as she writhed against him. Now his grip on her ass seemed to be all that was holding her upright, and the chasm was wrapping around her, darkness reaching up to swallow her and pull her down into a lake of heat and detonating pressure.

  Wild, primal screams came from somewhere, but she barely heard them past the roaring of blood in her ears, and then she felt herself falling and falling and falling…into Declan’s arms, her face in his chest, the scent and the warmth of his bare skin an intoxicating cologne. She was twitching and writhing, legs sawing back and forth, waves of fire billowing through her, her nipples throbbing and her core aching.

  She felt something soft and thick absorb her weight, a down comforter, and then coolness of high-thread count sheets. Holly could do nothing but breathe, nothing but gasp for breath and try to keep the questions inside. She’d had orgasms, before…right? But whatever had just slammed through her had been so powerful, so all-consuming and potent it bore no resemblance to anything she’d ever felt before, whether caused by own fingers or by another person.

  Declan’s weight pressed into the bed beside her, and his mouth feathered kiss after kiss to her trembling flesh, to her neck, her shoulder, her cheek, her mouth, and then she was cracking apart with a sudden and ferocious hunger, overcome by need. She had to touch him, had to feel him. Her palms found Dec’s back, skated down and up and all over, tracing the contours of his muscles, and then she pushed him to his back and batted his hand
s away, laved kisses to his chest, tasting the dusting of hair and the salty tang of sweat on his skin, running her palms over his chest and stomach, into the grooves of his abs. She lifted her head to watch as she opened the fly of his pants, revealing black cotton stretched across the massive bulge of his erection. She felt her throat tighten and her mouth go dry, her hands shake, her belly twist…but felt no hesitation, no doubts, only ravenous need to taste and touch. She glanced up and met Dec’s hot dark gaze, and then pulled his slacks off, tossed them aside, and then hooked her fingers in the elastic of his underwear. His hands were clenched into fists behind his head, his abs tight; he lifted his hips as she tugged his underwear away from his body and slid them down past his thighs. He jerked one foot free and then kicked them away, and he was naked for her. She ran her hands over his thighs as they bunched with flexing muscle, and then over his hips and belly and chest, and then finally she found the courage to give in to her desire, curling both hands around his erection.

  Declan groaned at the clutch of her hands, but remained otherwise still, letting her explore his body. She stroked his length, admiring the way her fingers strained to close around his girth, loving the way he spilled up over the top of her upper hand, his glans bulbous and leaking clear fluid.

  “Holly…god, the way you’re touching me—I won’t last much longer if you don’t let go.” Declan’s voice was strained, and he jackknifed to a sitting position, pulling out of her touch.

  And just like that, Holly was on her back and Declan was on his knees between her thighs. “You’re beautiful, Dec,” she said, her eyes fixed on his. “I can’t help wanting to touch you.”

  He slid his palms over her thighs, teasing her core, and then reached over to the nightstand and withdrew a condom. “I need to be inside you, Holls. I can’t wait any longer.” He ripped open the foil packet with his teeth and rolled the rubber onto himself. “You can spend as long as you want touching me, later. You can do whatever you want, for as long as you want. I just—I need you.”