Hold Me Close: A Cinnamon Roll Box Set

by Talia Hibbert

  She was beautiful. She rolled her lips inward, frowning ferociously, her expression pained. She wrapped a hand around his wrist and nodded, breathless, while he tried not to smile. Apparently, Hannah wouldn’t say anything so human as More. That was just fine. That was just perfect, since it was her.

  He wanted to taste her. Badly. And since it had been decided that, for just this one time, they’d both get what they wanted…

  He released her, leaving her shirt slightly dishevelled. Her nipples, hard and dark, were visible through the white fabric now that her bra had been made useless. He left that single button loose, so that if she bent or turned or made any sudden movement, he’d see exactly what he wanted to see.

  “Hold up your skirt.” Firm words, so she wouldn’t hesitate, because if she did, he might die. When she gathered up the fabric with eager, efficient hands, he closed his eyes for a moment, just to thank his lucky stars. When he opened them again, he found heaven.

  Hannah’s tongue darted over her lower lip before she said, “Can I kiss you?”

  Nate’s blood pounded through his ears. He ran his hands over her thighs, tracing whisper-fine ridges that might be stretch-marks, then sharp, raised lines that were definitely scars. “You can do whatever the fuck you want. Always. Please.”

  A slight smile tilted her lips before she leaned forward and cupped his jaw. He hadn’t expected that. If he looked down, he’d probably see her tits spilling out of her shirt, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from her face—from those electric eyes, sending a shot of pure power through him with every glance. He was hypnotised by the soft pressure of her hand and the way she frowned when she was turned on. Then she kissed him, and all he could think about was touching and tasting and drowning in her.

  While her lips branded him, while she ruined him with nothing but the heat of her tongue and the feel of her palm on his face, Nate’s hands roamed from her thighs to the curve of her arse. It was covered in ordinary, sensible cotton, completely expected and impossibly arousing. He could feel his cock leaking pre-come even though she’d barely touched him. It was just that hand, the hand she was using right now to stroke his cheek, and… fuck.

  He pulled her underwear down, and she let him—or maybe she didn’t notice, because this was the kind of kiss that distracted people thoroughly. But, no, she knew, because she lifted each of her feet in turn to help him ease off the fabric. He put them in his pocket. Once might be enough for her, but he knew that he wouldn’t stop needing her. He’d still lie awake at night thinking of her. And when that happened, he wanted her fucking underwear.

  She pulled away, breathless, and said, “Kissing you is unbelievable. Why is that? Why have I never kissed anyone like that?”

  “Maybe you’ve never kissed the right person.”

  She blinked slowly. “Maybe I haven’t.”

  He wanted to kiss her again, but he wanted something else more. The sharp, sweet-edged scent of her arousal was sending him out of his mind. He pressed the heel of his hand against his dick, as hard as he could, but it didn’t help. Slinging her legs over his shoulders and spreading her open and licking her clit until she screamed, that would help.

  So he pushed her toward one of the stools at the kitchen island, and she sat. His hands shaking, Nate grasped her thighs. They were so soft, so different to his own lean muscle; he wanted hours to drown in her, but this would have to be enough. He’d make it enough.

  She resisted a little when he tried to push her thighs apart, so he kissed the side of one knee and murmured, “Spread your legs for me, beautiful. I want to see.”

  “Is that all?” she asked, her voice shaky, her smile somewhere between sweet and nervous. He didn’t want her to be nervous. He didn’t know she could be nervous. His heart clenched like a fist.

  “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Just tell me.”

  “I know,” she said. “I know. You… you can do whatever you want.” It was almost the same thing he’d said to her. Nate wondered if she’d experienced this sharp zing of satisfaction at the words. Did she feel even half of the things he felt?

  Doubtful. She was too perfect for emotions this messy. She was too sensible to let need and adoration spill all over an impossible situation like theirs.

  That depressing thought was easy to ignore when Hannah spread her legs, though. Mostly because he nearly died at the sight. The only reason Nate’s soul didn’t leave his body was that, if it had, he’d miss this: the sight of those plump, pouting lips, the way they parted to reveal that hint of pink, deep inside. He spread her wider with his thumbs, his touch gentle—he made sure—but so obviously eager, he was surprised she didn’t laugh at his desperation.

  Instead, she slid a hand through his hair and arched her hips towards him, murmuring something that might have been his name. He decided to pretend it was, because the idea felt pure and perfect as a cloudless summer sky. She was so wet and swollen and open, her clit begging for his tongue, but he wanted to tease her first. He would have, too, if she hadn’t tightened her fingers in his hair and said, “Please. Please. I can’t breathe.”

  Nate knew exactly what she meant. So he bowed his head and dragged his tongue over her sweet cunt.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed, her voice low.

  He did it again, so fucking slowly, lapping up her juices as if he’d been dying of thirst. She was intoxicating. He couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t involve his head between her thighs. He’d live and die here and consider himself blessed.

  Nate slid his tongue into her fluttering entrance, caressing the hidden flesh, tasting her. Then he moved on to her clit, swollen and stiff and demanding attention. She clenched her thighs around his head so fucking tight, it felt like she was trying to suffocate him. Was it bad that he wanted her to? He felt his cock leaking against his belly, felt his balls ache, and thought that if he didn’t come soon, he might die. He might actually fucking die.

  But, despite the desperation heating his blood, Nate kept his pace slow. He stiffened the tip of his tongue and flicked delicately at her swollen nub—and when she ground against him, seeking more pressure, he wrapped an arm around her hips to pin her in place.

  “Fuck, Nate,” she gasped. “Oh my God oh my God please don’t stop.”

  There. That was what he wanted; for her to fall apart the way he was. For her to come undone. He didn’t speed up, but he did ease a finger inside of her, nice and slow. She was so fucking wet, so ready, her cunt gripping the single digit. So he gave her another, and another, and fucked her hard, even as his tongue worshipped her softly. God, she’d take his cock so beautifully. He could almost feel it.

  And he could feel her getting close, too, closer to the edge. He didn’t falter, because he wanted, needed her to come. And she was going to. She was. Until, all of a sudden, the hand in his hair began to push him away, and her moans turned into a hoarse, “Wait, wait, wait—”

  He stopped, his heart racing. “What? Are you okay?” She didn’t sound okay.

  But she said, “I’m fine.”

  He studied her face. She was biting her lip, white teeth sinking into smudged red lipstick, her frown too deep, too serious.

  “Hannah,” he said, “you’re not fine. If I did something wrong, tell me. Please tell me.” His hand found hers, their fingers twining together. Just touching her like this made his heart beat twice as fast, which was… concerning, to say the least. But he couldn’t think on it too hard, because he was more worried by the look on her face.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” At least she seemed to mean that. “It’s me.”

  “What’s you?”

  “I don’t—I can’t…” She released a heavy sigh and sat up straighter, her skirt falling down over her thighs. “I’m sorry. Oh, God. I don’t know why I can’t just lie to you.”

  “Lie to me?” Nate stood, his near-painful erection softening with alarming speed. He’d been wondering what it would take to make his dick relax around Hannah. Apparent
ly, the possibility that he’d just committed some unforgivable act worked just fine. “Sweetheart… could you explain this like I’m five?”

  She laughed, which made him feel a bit better—even if she clamped her lips together immediately after, like she regretted releasing the sound. He sat down on the stool beside hers, and held her hand, and waited.

  Eventually, she said, “I get kind of self-conscious sometimes. During… you know, stuff. Things.”

  He arched a brow. “Stuff and things.”

  “Sex,” she whispered with a glare.

  “Did you just whisper sex?”

  “Piss off. I’m trying to explain, here.”

  “Okay, okay.” He held back his smile. “Sorry.”

  With a haughty sniff, she continued. “I’m just going to be blunt. Blunt! It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s perfectly normal. I’m just going to come right out and…” She eyed him warily. “You’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

  He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but he said, “Nope.”

  “Okay. Fine. Okay, so, I can’t… orgasm.”

  He was so astonished by that statement, he didn’t even make a joke about the fact that she’d whispered orgasm. “Um… Hannah… not to be a dick, but I’m pretty sure you can.”

  “Well, yes, I can,” she agreed. “Just not in front of anyone.”

  “What?”

  “I can do it myself.” Aaaaand now he was imagining Hannah doing it herself. Wonderful. “Although I don’t often bother. But usually—not always! Just, usually, when I’m with someone else, I get so anxious, and it just…” She shrugged. “Doesn’t work.”

  “But you were going to. Just then, you were going to come.”

  She stared at him. “I—well, maybe. Maybe. Maybe I would have.”

  “So why did you want to stop?”

  “Because I…” She broke off, her gaze flitting away from him, her lips pursing as if she were embarrassed. “I don’t know. I just get nervous. I don’t know. I mean, usually, when I’m with someone—well, mostly when I’m with a man—I fake it. Because people take it so bloody personally, and… oh, God, you’re not going to take it personally, are you?”

  “What? No, of course not. Don’t worry.”

  “Good. Some people are absolutely awful when they think their abilities in the bedroom are being questioned.” She rolled her eyes. “And they don’t seem to realise that sex can be perfectly enjoyable without all that fanfare at the end.”

  It was both alarming and not entirely surprising to hear Hannah refer to an orgasm as fanfare. In such disdainful tones, too. Nate knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he really couldn’t stop himself from asking: “Are you sure you know what an orgasm is?”

  She scowled. “Of course I do.”

  “So you’ve had one. You have had an orgasm.”

  “Yes.”

  “When? How? Tell me.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. I promise you, Nate, I have had an orgasm. I have had multiple orgasms. They are absolutely lovely, under the correct circumstances. I just think sex is so much less pressure when you take orgasms out of the equation. I hate it when people want to make me come. They get all insistent and militant, like there’s a goal to reach—and you know, usually I like goals, but sex is supposed to be…”

  “Easy?” he suggested. But no, that didn’t sound right. “Fun. It’s not supposed to feel like work.”

  “Exactly! Exactly. So, that’s that. No orgasms. For me, I mean. I’m assuming you’d like one, though.”

  “Ah…” This was really not going as Nate had planned. Actually, this whole day was like some kind of trip. He’d somehow gone from a hangover, to a haircut, to Hannah calmly ask him if he’d like an orgasm. “Well, no. I mean, if you’re done,” he began, but she gave him a pitying look and shook her head.

  “We’re only doing this once,” she said. “I’m certainly not going to stop before I get you naked. You don’t mind stripping off for me, do you?”

  And just like that, Nate was hard again. Fascinating.

  15

  Hannah hadn’t intended to make a fuss. She’d intended to take the edge off of this awful, intense arousal Nate sparked in her, fake an orgasm when she’d had enough, and be on her merry way.

  But she’d gotten carried away. And things had felt so impossibly, breathtakingly blissful that she’d thought, for a moment she might actually do it. Or rather, that he might actually do it—make her come. Which is when the icy fist of her inhibitions gripped her. Sigh. But at least he’d been so very reasonable about it all. And at least he was now ripping off the rest of his clothes, just for her. That more than made up for her annoyance at herself.

  When Nate shoved off his jeans to reveal thickly muscled thighs covered in sparse, black hair, Hannah was seized by the strangest urge to lick or suck or bite… something. She just needed something in her mouth. Preferably something that tasted like Nate. And then he dragged down his briefs, releasing the solid, ruddy length of his cock. It hit his stomach with a soft, rude sort of slap, and Hannah decided that the thing she needed in her mouth was right there, thank you very much.

  But she couldn’t do it in the kitchen. God, no. Because then she’d know exactly how it felt to kneel on the cold tiles and suck him, and she’d never get the memory out of her head. In fact, she decided, she couldn’t do it anywhere in the house. The desecration of this particular stool was bad enough. She’d have to bleach the damned thing to high heaven just to soothe her guilt.

  “Let’s go outside,” she said.

  Nate squinted at her, as if he suspected he’d misheard. “Outside?”

  He was so gloriously naked, with all that taut skin and those lean muscles, Hannah felt like saying, Or here. Or the moon. Wherever you want, actually.

  But somehow, she stood firm in the face of disgraceful sexiness. “Yes. Outside.”

  “It’s going to rain, you know.”

  It was true that the air beyond the patio doors vibrated under the weight of an impending summer storm, and heavy clouds had covered the bright sun. But she didn’t really care. “Do you mind? You used to love the rain.”

  “How did you know that?”

  She shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t know. When we were at school, you always wandered around in the rain. And you always looked calmer. I thought you liked it.”

  “So you just… noticed,” he said slowly, with a look on his face she couldn’t quite decipher. One of his soft looks, the kind that made her uncomfortably melty in the middle, like a brownie. Hannah did not want to be a brownie.

  “Whatever. Just get outside before I change my mind.” She stood with a huff, marching off towards the garden. Bold move, considering she was worried about him changing his mind. But she had to leave first anyway, because if he led the way, she’d end up staring at his arse. That arse befuddled her enough fully clothed; Hannah didn’t think she’d survive seeing it naked.

  Nate followed her out, thank God, and didn’t even falter when she said, “Shall we sit down?” He just sat, right on the grass, as if it hadn’t been an absolutely ridiculous suggestion. Overhead, the sky darkened. Thunder rumbled. It kind of suited her suddenly dour mood.

  The problem, Hannah realised, was that she’d never… well, she’d never wanted anyone this much. And now she was overthinking things quite awfully, and she’d never snap out of it, would never get back to that lovely state of mindless lust—

  “Come here,” he said. He leaned back on one hand, and the other grasped his cock, stroking lazily. “You’re miles away.”

  “I…” She licked her lips, her eyes on the hypnotic pull of his cock. “I was planning on staying over here, actually.” Over here being three feet in front of him, where she had an excellent view. And he seemed to know that, because he spread his legs further, until she could see his heavy sac, moving with each stroke. The underside of his dick looked like velvet, but she knew, if she touched him, it would be iron-hard.
Would it be so bad, to touch him?

  No. No, it wouldn’t. This was an indulgence, after all. She was supposed to make the most of it. She would make the most of it.

  So, despite her words, Hannah moved towards him. Crawled, actually. Because she was teetering on the edge of that magical arousal, the kind strong enough to take away her constant gnawing worries. And then his gaze fell to her chest, and she realised her breasts had spilled out of her shirt and were swaying as she moved. Maybe it was the sensation that gave her a last little push, or maybe it was the way he groaned and stroked himself harder, his hips lifting, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.

  She crawled between his spread thighs, her eyes focusing on the flushed head of his dick, the way it leaked tiny beads of pre-come like slick jewels. He rasped, “You want me in your mouth.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “No.”

  “I know when you’re lying, Hannah.” Lightning flashed overhead like some kind of divine judgement, like punctuation to his gently teasing words.

  “You don’t know. You can’t know.” She pushed his hand away from his length and bent her head, running her tongue over the underside of his cock. Nate tasted of raw heat and skin and salt and desire.

  His head fell back as he groaned. “I do. I do. I think about you so much and I watch you so closely—”

  She slid her tongue over the tip of his cock, suckling the swollen head.

  “Fuck,” he spat. “Fuck. Oh, you look so fucking good. Jesus. Suck me. Touch me. Hannah, please, I need you—”

  She couldn’t let him finish that sentence, just in case that was the sentence. “Hannah, please, I need you.” So she sucked hard, taking his cock as deep as she could, cutting off his words and drinking in his ragged moans. He felt so thick, so hard and impossibly long, filling her mouth. When he grabbed her hair, she whimpered, the sound muffled. When he hit the back of her throat, she held him there, even though she couldn’t swallow. After a few seconds she had to release him, gasping for air. His cock gleamed, all wet from her mouth, and the sight was hotter than it should’ve been.