Unlike me, Olivia seemed determined to cross double yellow lines. Hell, she seemed determined to hop medians. As much as I knew that we needed to stay in our own lanes, I didn’t stop her when she began to lift my shirt up and off. I even assisted her by lifting my arms and finishing the job.
Before the shirt even hit the ground, Olivia’s hands were on me. She ran them over my shoulders, my chest, and my abs. I watched as she explored my body, loving the visual of her touching me almost as much as I loved her gentle but firm caress.
I could feel my pulse racing as arousal rushed through me with white-rapids force. I could feel myself trembling with unleashed desire. I’d never been so turned on in my life. My self-control was hanging on by a thread.
But when she leaned forward and began pressing soft kisses to my chest, shoulders, and neck that thread snapped, and I gripped her hips. She rocked into me and her body moved against mine. I worried that the friction of our bodies rubbing together would cause me to blow my load.
I knew that there was no way I could let this lead to sex, and if one of us was going to get off, it wasn’t going to be me.
As she kissed my neck, I kept one hand on her hip and moved the other between our bodies and down the front of her shorts. The second I slid my fingers beneath her panties she spread her legs giving me access to her sex which was slick with arousal.
She whimpered as I intimately grazed her damp folds. I teased her body by pressing my fingertips against the seam of her entrance, massaging her passage but never penetrating her as my palm ground into the swollen nub at the top of her sex.
Her hips began to roll faster and faster, grinding into my touch.
With each pass of my finger along her seam, I was coated with more and more of her juices. When I could feel her body begin to tremble, nearing release, I shifted my fingers to her clit and began to flick the tip with my middle finger.
A moment later her hands gripped my shoulders and she cried out.
I’d always enjoyed foreplay, but this was something that was on an entirely different level. It was more than just pleasure, I felt connected to her as I touched her most intimate place. Olivia coming in my arms was better than any sex I’d ever had.
And that was enough for me. It had to be.
Chapter 18
Olivia
“Once you become fearless, life becomes limitless.”
~ Maggie Calhoun
My entire body was still shaking from the after-effects of my orgasm. I’d always loved Holden’s hands. Even when we were kids, they were so large and strong. I’d wondered what they would feel like if he was touching me. Now I knew, they felt amazing.
When I was finally able to open my heavy lids, I lifted my eyes to Holden. I was expecting to see the same need, desire, and want I was feeling reflected back at me. Instead, his jaw was clenched, and his mouth was flat and serious.
“What’s wrong?”
He rested his forehead against mine, his breath fanning over me. He cupped my face with the hand that had just been between my legs and traced my lips with his thumb. “There are a lot of things I want to do to you right now, but I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You can do anything you want to me.” I could hear the eagerness in my tone. With anyone else, I might be embarrassed about my shameless enthusiasm and willingness. But not with Holden. He made me feel bold in ways I’d never felt before.
He exhaled through his nose and I could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. “No, I can’t. I can’t pick you up. I can’t hold you up against this wall. I can’t carry you up to my bed… I can’t.”
“Oh…” Shit. I’d completely forgotten about his accident. How could I have forgotten that?
I remembered that after my dancer friend’s husband had a back injury, she’d said the only way they could have sex was with him sitting down and her straddling him and doing the heavy lifting, so to speak. I knew that not all back pain was created equal, but I figured I might as well give it a try.
“Well, then let’s focus on what I can do.”
A low groan rumbled from his chest as I took his hand and led him to the couch and backed him up to it. When his legs hit the edge, I pulled his sweats down. I’d known that he was going commando, but that didn’t stop me from sucking in a startled breath when his erection sprung up. I continued sliding his sweatpants down his legs.
As he stepped out of them, I reached behind him and put a pillow against the back of the couch to give him lower lumbar support. Then I pressed my hands on his bare chest and gave him a playful shove. It wasn’t with enough force that it would have budged him if he didn’t want to move, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, but he played along and sat down.
My pulse raced wildly, and my sex clenched, still tingling from my climax, as Holden stared up at me. He sat there, gloriously naked and I could honestly just stare at him all night and never get tired of looking. But from the predatory look in his eyes, I thought he might have other ideas. As I stood in front of him, goosebumps broke out on my bare skin. It was raw, powerful, and focused solely on me.
I’d witnessed the same level of intensity in his stare when I’d watched him compete in rodeos, but I’d never had it directed at me. It was a heady sensation and I could easily see myself getting addicted to it. I’d never experimented with drugs, but I couldn’t imagine anything feeling better or more euphoric than the way I felt at that moment.
With confidence I’d never felt before, I pulled my shirt up and off my head. Since I wasn’t wearing a bra, my breasts bounced slightly as I lowered my arms.
Holden sat silently, watching me undress. The only evidence that he was affected was the tension in his jaw, the rise and fall of his chiseled chest in labored breaths, and the twitch in his manhood as it swelled even larger before my eyes.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he spoke with awe.
Even though his compliment had technically been about my appearance, it felt personal to me. A rush of sexual power raced through me at the knowledge that I was turning him on. My core tingled with anticipation as I lowered down to my knees between his legs. I placed my hands on his powerful thighs and when I looked up at him I felt powerful and desired.
He was still watching me with that fire in his eyes. Not breaking our stare, I slid my hands up his inner thighs. He sucked in air through clenched teeth when I reached his straining erection jutting up from his body.
Keeping one hand on his thigh, I moved the other to the base of his shaft. He pulsed against my palm as my fingers wrapped around him tightly. My mouth watered at the thought of having him in my mouth. Needing to taste him, I sucked the hard column of his flesh into my mouth.
I sealed my lips around him, making sure to keep the suction tight as they moved up and down his shaft. Each time I tried to take more of him, but he was too large. So I used my hand to stroke his base as I continued to pull him in and out of my mouth.
“Olivia,” Holden growled as he fisted my hair.
My eyes lifted to his as he tugged me up. There was a pop sound from the suction of my lips as it sprung from my mouth.
“You need to stop. This is going to be over if you keep doing that,” he explained as he traced my lips with his thumb once more.
It was the second time he’d done it and it was just as potent as the first. It wasn’t something I’d ever known would be a turn-on, but it was. My inner walls tightened in anticipation of what I knew was to come, pun intended.
With the other guys I’d been with, I’d never felt particularly bold. If I wanted to do something or keep doing something, I never spoke up. I don’t know why I hadn’t. I’d always been comfortable and in a relationship with everyone I’d ever had sex with, but I just never had any motivation to say or do what I wanted. If I was enjoying myself, that had been enough for me.
Things with Holden were different. Even though he was the first person I’d ever been with who I wasn’t in a relationship with, I felt like I was in more c
ontrol, and more myself than any other time. Or maybe it was just that I was so much more turned on than any other time.
Either way, I was enjoying the brazenness I was experiencing.
“I’ll stop when I’m done.”
His eyes flared with burning hot intensity at my rebellion. Not breaking eye contact, I lowered my head as my fingers flexed around his throbbing member. With the most delicate of care, I placed an open-mouth kiss on his bulging mushroom head. My lips licked along the tip and tasted the salty evidence of his arousal.
I then proceeded to trail kisses along every inch of his thick, rigid shaft, keeping him firmly in the grasp of my fisted hand. I maneuvered his manhood so that I could shower equal attention on all sides, licking and kissing him with tenderness that I was fairly certain wouldn’t take him over the edge, just bring him right to it.
It wasn’t long before his body began pulsing heavily against my fingers and palm.
“I’m going to come and I want to do it inside of you,” he gritted out.
His statement shot straight to my center and my inner walls started to spasm. I wanted him inside me, too. Desperation raged in me and I stood, my legs feeling like jelly as I straddled him. Reaching between us I took hold of him once more and positioned him at my opening.
He gripped my hips, lifting me up a few inches. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m on the pill,” I said through labored breaths.
That was all the green light he needed because he relaxed his hold and I sank back down. We both watched as I slowly lowered down on him. His thick girth stretched my body, nearly to the point of pain, as he entered me. He squeezed his fingers into my flesh, pulling my body down until he filled me completely.
I lifted my eyes to his and what I saw stole my breath away. I saw him, the real him, maybe for the first time since we were kids. I realized then that he’d had walls up with me, but they were down now. I saw my best friend staring back at me.
“I missed you,” I said as I began to roll my hips, careful to move smoothly so that I wouldn’t injure him.
His hands moved to my breasts and I almost came apart when he began to knead them, teasing my nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. Pleasure exploded through me and I grasped his shoulders, bringing my chest close to his face. He didn’t miss a beat before he started kissing, licking, and sucking each of my hardened buds.
I could feel my release building as pleasure began to whip through me. I continued rolling my hips and I felt like my orgasm was a roller coaster and I was slowly climbing to the top of the big drop.
The first time he’d made me come, it had hit me fast and furious, crashing into me like a freight train. This time it was building momentum. I wanted to tell him that I was almost there, but when I opened my mouth no noise came out except unintelligible sounds of satisfaction.
Then, before I was able to speak, his teeth sank into my nipple. I gasped as the sting from his bite caused me to reach the top of the drop and shoot down into the fall. After that, I was powerless to do anything except hold on and surrender to the ride.
It went sideways down a corkscrew, sped around sharp turns, and even went upside down in a loop-di-loop. When it finally came to a stop I realized that I had a ninja grip around his neck. I released my hold and started to get up, not wanting to hurt him with the weight of my body. His fingers dug into my flesh, keeping me in place.
“Thank you.” The earnestness in his tone was not what I’d expected. “I didn’t know if I would ever do that again.”
“Do what? Have sex?”
He nodded.
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t sure my dick worked anymore.”
“Well, it does. It works very well.”
“Maybe now, but it was dead for a while.” He smiled. “The first time I got it up after my surgery was the morning I saw you doing yoga naked.”
“Really?”
“Yep. You brought him back to life.”
A smile spread on my face from ear to ear as giddiness blossomed in my chest and radiated through me. Holden truly did know how to give me compliments that were personal. Very personal.
Chapter 19
Holden
“Go the extra mile, it’s never crowded.”
~ Maggie Calhoun
“A little to the left.” Mrs. Nelson instructed me.
I moved the picture to the left.
“No, no, the other left.”
I shifted the large, framed sailboat painting to the right.
“Perfect!” she exclaimed. “Right there!”
I took the pencil I’d been holding between my lips and traced a line on the wall at the top of the frame before lowering the picture to the floor. I pulled out my tape and measured out where I needed to hammer in the nails.
“Oh, it’s so nice having a strapping young man around.”
I didn’t feel young or strapping, but I supposed that everything was relative. Mrs. Nelson was in her late eighties, so I guessed that even with my limitations I was still strapping and young in her eyes.
“I just can’t thank you enough for all your help.”
“No worries.” For the past couple of weeks, I’d been doing chores for Mrs. Nelson, Mrs. Higgins, and Mrs. Scoggs after yoga class. I’d somehow become their personal handyman, but I still wasn’t exactly sure how that had happened.
It just sort of evolved into a routine. I’d go to class, and then one of them would ask for my help after class. I wondered if they might be having some sort of contest to see who could get me to do the most work.
Even if that were the case, I wouldn’t care, considering they were pretty much the totality of my social life.
After securing the nails in place I bent and picked the picture up. I did feel a tiny twinge in my lower back, but that was it. My mobility and strength had been improving and I knew that I had my PT and Olivia’s yoga class to thank for my progress.
“Okay, is that all you needed?” I asked as I put my hammer back in my toolbox.
“I made some sandwiches to thank you for all your hard work.” Mrs. Nelson shuffled into her kitchen.
In the South, you never turned down a sandwich, sweet tea, or chili.
“The show’s about to come on. You can stay and watch.”
The show she was referring to was Sunset Bay. If someone would’ve told me six months ago that I’d be living in Wishing Well, hanging out with the Golden Girls, and addicted to watching a daytime soap, I would’ve told them they should seek psychiatric help because they’d clearly gone crazy.
But that’s exactly where I found myself. I had to find out if Xander was the father of Alexis’ baby. That was three weeks ago, and there’d been several twists and turns. Yesterday, the show had ended with a cliffhanger. It turned out that Trent had a twin brother he never knew, named Xander, who’d been living in Sunset Bay for a year, and no one knew about it. I had a feeling he was the one that had actually gotten Alexis pregnant.
I pulled out the TV trays and looked for the remote. I was still searching for it when Mrs. Nelson came in carrying two plates.
“Are you lookin’ for the clicker, because I’ve got it.” She set the plates down and pulled the controller out of a pocket in her muumuu. “Can you go grab the drinks?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When I returned to the front room, the TV—that had to be as old as I was—was flickering to life and the ominous music began playing as the opening credits rolled.
“Has Sasha said if Xander is baby Lana’s father?” I figured since I had an inside source, I might as well make the most of it.
“No.” Mrs. Nelson shook her head. “She doesn’t tell me anything. No matter how much I beg. I lost my privileges the first year she was on the show after I accidentally posted on Facebook that Alexis wasn’t actually dead, she just got amnesia when she was backpacking in Europe.”
I hadn’t been watching the show then, but it did sound like a pretty big spoiler.
“Why? Do you think that Xander is the father?”
“Yes. And I think that he’s also the one that is having an affair with the nurse to break up Trent and Alexis’ marriage because he’s always been in love with Alexis.” Even as I heard myself speaking, I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth.
Maybe Bentley, my brothers, my parents, and Olivia were right. I needed to get a life. I had spent significantly more time with the over eighty set than I had with people my own age since I got back to town.
As soon as the show opening was over and it went to commercial, Mrs. Nelson turned to me. “I heard that Kenna Rogers was sniffing around.”
Sniffing around?
I doubted Kenna would appreciate her behavior being classified as that.
“She’s a lovely girl,” she continued.
I knew a fishing expedition when I heard one. Since I’d got back home, it seemed all anyone was interested in was who I was going to date, and when I was going to ‘settle down.’
“I’m sure she is.”
“But you’re not interested.”
This conversation felt like déjà vu. It was almost exactly the same as the one I’d had with Bentley and Travis at the bar.
“No, I’m not.”
“Is she not your type?”
“I don’t think I really have a type.” That was a lie. My type was Olivia Calhoun.
But since I couldn’t have her, then I didn’t have a type.
“Did you know that if Kenna had been a boy, her mama and daddy were gonna name her Kenny?”
“I actually did know that.”
“Me and the girls were talking, and we were wondering if you would be interested if Kenna had been born Kenny?”
“You ladies were discussing whether or not I’m gay?”
“You never dated anyone growing up. And you never brought any girls home. It doesn’t make a difference to us which way your bread is buttered, and Edith has a grandson that is very handsome and single if you—”
Educating Holden (Wishing Well, Texas Book 11) Page 12
