by Jayne Rylon
“Go ahead, Sabra,” Holden rasped. “Come on me. I want to feel you shatter around my cock.”
As if she could resist his dirty talk.
The next time his balls tapped her clit, she lost the battle, succumbing to mind-numbing pleasure. Yet through the haze of rapture, she didn’t hear his answering cries. In fact, he stopped moving altogether instead of ramping up the intensity of his lunges.
“You don’t think I’m done with you yet, do you?” He chuckled when her stiff spine loosened and she understood that he meant to keep fucking her. Give her more pleasure than she’d dreamed of. More than he already had. “You’re not the only one around here who knows some tricks.”
Holden began to move once again. The motion rejuvenated her orgasm, sending sparks along her nerves and igniting her passion once more. He fucked into her hard enough that he nudged them both forward.
Sabra wriggled her fingers free of his grasp. She braced her hands on the floor and grinned over her shoulder at him. “Don’t hold back on my account. Here, is this better?”
When she rotated her hips, his cock slipped free and nudged her mound on his next pass.
“No, definitely worse,” he griped.
Until she kept her forward momentum, going into a handstand. Then she bent her knees. He took the cue, stepping into the embrace of her legs, which wound around him like a boa constrictor that hadn’t had a decent meal in years.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t. Not if this was what it felt like to feast.
Holden wrapped his hands around her waist, his thumbs nearly touching in the small of her back. He drew her to him, hardly allowing her to hold any of her own weight as he plowed into her. Ass bouncing on his abs, she rocked to his beat, taking all of him and helping him nudge the wall of her pussy with the thick cap of his cock.
Right. There.
Again.
And again.
He fucked her until her eyes crossed and they both sounded as if they’d run a marathon, their breaths loud in the quiet apartment. As she felt herself climbing toward the summit of her pleasure, she knew she didn’t want to crest without him again.
More than the physical release Holden could grant her, she wanted the emotional closeness of sharing the experience with him.
“H-holden,” she stuttered as she attempted to gain his attention.
“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response had her certain he concentrated to keep his own rapture at bay. Exactly what she didn’t want.
“Let go. Come with me this time. Please. Show me how much you like it.” She would probably hate herself later for adding, “Me.”
A roar left him as his willpower fled. He jackhammered into her, moving fast and furious—if not far—on each stroke. The precision of his spearing hips directed his cock to the place she loved it most. She stood no chance. Hoping the wringing of her pussy was enough to trigger his orgasm, she surrendered.
He cried out her name as she gave herself to the moment, and to him.
Thrilled, she felt his shaft thicken, the veins caressing her swollen flesh and adding another dimension to the cacophony of sensations swarming inside her. Heat burst from her core as he pumped into her, spraying his release into the condom that constituted the only barrier between them.
Sabra concentrated on milking him dry, hoping she imparted a sliver of the joy he’d given her. Arms shaking, she sighed when he lifted her, supporting all her weight and his even as he erupted within her. He stood, with her legs clasped backwards around him, his chest pressed to her back and his arms around her middle.
When they’d finished quaking, he carried her to the bed and tipped onto the mattress with her. Their bodies stayed connected as they recovered, his frame covering hers. Protecting her and smothering her with his warmth.
“I think I’m going to need another shower,” she mumbled.
Holden laughed, rich and deep, the sound making her happy places tingle even more than the proper fucking he’d given her. “I’ll take a hundred a day with you if they all end like that.”
Chapter Six
“Jesus, Sabra.” Holden flopped onto his back and drew her to him, arranging her like a blanket over his chest. “I can’t believe we just did that. It was so fucking good. I hardly know you and we wandered straight into circus freak territory.”
“It felt right,” she admitted, though her cheeks turned a pretty shade of salmon. “I kind of assumed you were no stranger to stuff like that. I was playing it cool to keep up with you. At least one of us should have some experience in hookups considering how easy—and not awkward—that was. Besides, it seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”
“Seriously? Is there any doubt? That was in no way a complaint.” He nuzzled her neck, thrilled when shivers ran up her spine, her nipples scrunching where their bodies pressed together. “You were spectacular. And so is whatever this is between us. Irresistible. You’re not pissed, are you? I usually at least take a woman out to a nice dinner before we get to the down and dirty. I couldn’t help myself. And I’m so glad I didn’t. Believe me, the only time it’s ever been that a-fucking-mazing is…”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he’d almost admitted. Sabra was no dummy. She guessed, “Is when you’re with the Hot Rods?”
“Yeah.” He refused to meet her gaze, staring instead at the serene ink drawing, which hung on the wall opposite her headboard, of a monastery in the mountains surrounded by tiered farmland. Time for some levity. He didn’t do serious with women. Or anyone, really. “Please tell me you don’t mind if I brag about you. In detail. Especially about the contortionism. They’re going to be so jealous.”
Her shy smile did funny shit to his gut when he caught sight of it in his peripheral vision. “Sure, go ahead. I’m not going to lie. Your friends are hot and I don’t mind them thinking I deserve to be with someone like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He tipped his head, frowning at her implication. “I don’t know you that well, but everything I’ve learned…and seen…and felt, I liked. A lot.”
At first he didn’t think she planned to respond, and when she did it wasn’t a straight answer.
“I guess I have a lot of respect for people who work their way to something from nothing. If it makes you feel better, I don’t think we’re as much strangers as you believe. I wonder if that’s why I felt this instant connection to you and why I don’t regret—” She sighed and he’d bet she was remembering how hard and how many times she’d come for him, surrendering completely to their passion. He was. “Well, anyway, we have kind of a lot in common.”
Holden held his breath as he waited for her to recant her mumbled confessions. Disappointment zinged through him at the thought of her denial. Certainly not because he cared, but because it had been phenomenal.
Instead, silence lingered.
When she didn’t backpedal, he focused on what seemed important to her although her dewy skin tempted him to distract them both from somber topics by practicing their freak show tricks.
“Like what?” He shifted, relaxing as his fingers combed her damp and snarled hair.
“For starters, we’re both adopted.” The click of her teeth after she blurted the factoid made him wonder if she’d meant to spill that juicy secret.
“You are too?” He levered onto an elbow to peer into her eyes. “Wait, how do you know I’m—?”
“Journalist, remember?” A grin tugged her mouth upward as she pointed to her smoking rack. At least until she realized he didn’t share her amusement.
Why had she reminded him? Was this a heart-to-heart or some kind of twisted interview?
“Yeah.” Holden crashed onto her pillows once more, deluding himself into believing she gave a shit about him personally instead of as some footnote for her show. “So you have the dirt on my mom?”
“No.” Sabra hesita
ted as if she chose her words carefully. “I didn’t dig into records that weren’t public and accessible. Your juvenile documents are protected. I know about Tom London, though, and his family. Their work with the shelter. And there are newspaper articles about how he took you in—all of you—after his wife died. I wouldn’t have been doing my job if I hadn’t checked that stuff out.”
“That better not be pity I hear.” He counteracted her pats on his chest with a snarl.
“Not from me.” It didn’t seem like a lie, especially when she smacked his abdomen for the thought alone. “You found a good man who built a strong family for you. There are so many kids who aren’t half as fortunate as us.”
He didn’t ask her to continue, but he stayed quiet, hoping she’d spill more.
“I don’t remember much from the time before my parents—the real ones, not the birth ones—found me.” If his arm snaked tighter around her shoulders, they could chalk it up to post-sex snuggling, right? Trapped against him, she nudged his biceps with a hint of a shrug. “I was three when they discovered me playing with a toy pony in the corner booth of the restaurant they own. They hunted for my parents, thinking they’d be frantic with worry over losing their daughter. Clearly not, though. More like they pulled an epic dine-and-dash.”
“Ah, damn.” Holden knew better than to waste meaningless words on trying to erase the hurt of abandonment. He held her tighter and rocked them both in time to his pounding heart.
Swallowing a few times, she continued. “After a while, they gave up. Officially adopted me when I was six or seven. They never have treated me like anything other than their own kid. My dad says it was fate. My mom says I liked her cooking so much I never wanted to leave. She’s right about that.”
Sabra offered him a smile. It was weak, though genuine.
Whether the afterglow of their superb sex or this surreal connection between them lubricated her vocal chords, he couldn’t say. Still, he’d bet his lucky wrench that she told him things she’d never spilled before. So he zipped his lips and let her get it all out. Vent.
That was what he would do for one of the gang.
“It’s weird, you know? My parents are my world. I’d forget I was adopted if they weren’t so different from me.” She did beam then. He understood why, as he thought of his own deliberate family. No oopsies there. They’d chosen her. Like Tom had picked him.
“How so?” Holden rubbed her back, slow and gentle, drawing circles on her as she confided in him.
“Well, they’re kind of homebodies. I like to travel. And they’re very…content…with their small-town ways. I’ve always been super ambitious.” Tears prickled her eyes and he felt like shit guessing she scrambled to avoid thinking of the position she’d lost. In part because of him.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Sabra.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I know you did your best to keep your promise. And while I’m having a hell of a time with you, I can’t help but wish we hadn’t run into you that day in the park.”
“Then none of this would have happened.” She wiggled her finger between them. “I have to focus on the new opportunities blossoming now.”
Holden admired her resilience. “I’ll do what I can to make up for my part of the shitstorm.”
“You’re a great diversion so far.” She winked at him and squirmed a bit, aligning them more completely. Practically purring, she seemed to shake off the clouds over her head, then jumped back to their previous train of thought. About the differences between her and her family. He followed right along, totally in tune with her reasoning. “Plus, you know, my parents are Italian and I’m Asian-American.”
Holden grinned, glad to talk about something happier. Tears in a woman’s eyes—hers doubly so—were a dangerous weapon that had the power to destroy his defenses. “I like the way you’re made. You seem delicate on the outside, but you’re fierce on the inside.”
He traced her cheekbone then easily encircled her wrist, where it rested on his sternum.
“My dad calls that my warrior spirit, courtesy of my heritage. Randomly, sometimes, I’ll be looking at something and know the word for it in Khmer.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s weird, but I’m used to it.”
“What’s that?” He squinted as he concentrated. “Khmer?”
“Oh, it’s the language people speak in Cambodia.” Sabra smiled. “I guess that’s where my biological parents were from. Or maybe just one of them. No one saw who came into the restaurant with me that day.”
“Is that why you like living up here? I swear I can smell pizza every damn time I breathe. Not to mention all that crashing from the kitchen. How do you ignore that when you’re getting your Zen on?” Holden idly traced spirals on her spine with the tip of his index finger. His stomach rumbled and they both laughed.
“I never thought about it, but I guess so. It reminds me of home. It’s weird how we do stuff like that and don’t even realize what a big impact our parents have on us. Our upbringing. Nature versus nurture junk.” When he didn’t respond, she shut up.
He could have kicked himself for squelching her honest rambling.
Until she came clean, ruining everything.
“Holden?” Her voice quivered when she called his name. The thready sound had his cock perking up.
“Give me a few more minutes to recover. Five, tops.” He massaged her hips, hoping she wasn’t too sore after he’d practically tied her into a pretzel as he fucked her senseless. Himself too.
“Not that.” She giggled as she poked him in his abs. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“What for?” He couldn’t think of a single thing she should apologize for. He’d never been this content or satisfied. Something about lying here with her sated him. In a way not even sex with the Hot Rods had. He might have freaked out about that if she hadn’t ripped his attention away from the stray thought.
“For lying to you.” Sabra nibbled her lip when his gaze winged to hers.
“About what?” Please, don’t fuck this up for us. He’d let himself enjoy her too much. She was going to rip him apart and he knew it from her meek tone and the nip she gave her swollen lower lip before continuing.
“I do actually want to put some social commentary in the Hot Rods show.” She glanced away as he sat up in a flash, disentangling them as if she were a poisonous snake instead of a lovely bedmate.
“We’re not signing on to be some exhibit in America’s TV-land zoo!” At his roar, she flinched. Too bad. Her betrayal cut him unexpectedly deep. He’d started to like her. Not only the cute reporter, but the woman beneath the face on the news. “We do what we do for us, no one else.”
“I’m not talking about your sexuality.” Sabra’s spine stiffened as she prepared to fight. If they’d been in a ring, she’d have been taping her knuckles. Her determination turned him on. She wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue as she noticed his rejuvenating hard-on.
He whipped a sheet over his crotch.
“Then what?” Holden steeled himself for treachery. Why should it hurt so much? He’d only just met her. Fucked her once. He could walk away at any time. Should. Right then.
Sure.
“I want to highlight the benefits of adoption. Show some of the good work Mr. London has achieved through the shelter and his love for you guys, plus Sally. It’s an important issue to me and I think there’s enough meat in the garage to keep people interested while saying something meaningful too. Why not do both?”
“I—” Holden opened his mouth then closed it with a snap. Never had he imagined that was her angle. And try as he might, he couldn’t see any harm in it. Publicity for the shop and the shelter. It couldn’t get much better than that.
Unless people saw the relationship they weren’t planning to advertise and used it as a black mark against the foundation. Shit. They could end up doing more damage than good if people mixed up the two i
ssues.
“So, this…” He sliced his hand through the air between them, finally realizing why it had been so fucking good. So easy.
Because it hadn’t been real. She’d been buttering him up.
And it had worked.
“Hmm?” Sabra glanced up at him with lazy ease he might believe if he hadn’t understood how people used sex to play each other. To get what they wanted only to leave their partners behind after they’d sucked them dry. He remembered the pain in his mother’s eyes as she bled to death in his arms. After last night’s dream, it was hard to forget.
He swallowed compulsively.
Holden wrenched free of Sabra’s reaching hands, her warm sheets and the spell she’d woven around him. He rocketed to his feet beside the bed. “This was all some ploy to grease the wheels? To make me let down my guard? Did you expect me to cry for the cameras when we talked about our pasts? Screw you.”
“I may be a failure as a newshound. Washed up before I’m thirty. Hell, a lot of things…but I’m not a whore.” She climbed to her knees and chucked a pillow at his head. “I slept with you because I wanted to. Because there’s something crazy between us. I shared more of myself with you in one afternoon than I have with my boring ex-boyfriends in years. And I should have known better.”
Holden doubted it was healthy for a person to turn that shade of red.
It bordered on purple.
Another pillow flew at him and then another. She launched them all without pause. Why the hell did one person need so many anyway?
“Get the hell out of here, Holden, if that’s what you believe.” She wrapped herself in the comforter, then marched to the bathroom and retrieved his soggy clothes. They torpedoed at his neck, his jeans flopping over his head.
He wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Memories of his mother and the clients she’d taken assaulted him. Carver too had done unspeakable things to survive. Had he forced Sabra to sleep with him to get something she needed? It hadn’t seemed like it when he’d sunk into her moist pussy, but who was to say you couldn’t enjoy something you had to do? Past and present blurred. History either tainted what could have been a bright future or saved him from repeating his mother’s mistakes. He wasn’t sure which.
