Page 52 of Stroked Hard
I blame it on the lack of shirt, and the way his long fingers run through his thick hair. I also blame it on the absurd amount of time I spent on the Internet last night, looking at pictures of him while blaming it on my raging libido . . . the whole time.
I’m just going to say it. I’m horny. Yup, I’m that person. I haven’t had sex in a very long time and my vibrator just isn’t doing it for me anymore. Combine that with Hollis pestering me constantly and I’m struggling, I’m struggling terribly. Especially when he said what he’d like to do to my boobs.They wrote me a letter the other day, asking if I would finally squeeze them, flick them, pull on their little nipples with my teeth.Internally, I was saying—no, chanting—Yes, please, yes, please. Right. Now.So, I ran.
Regardless, I’m struggling so badly that I wouldn’t be opposed to giving in to Hollis. If he made a move on me, asked to go inside my apartment, I don’t know if I would actually say no.
At least, I’d put up a pretty huge fight.
Still holding my hand tightly, Hollis says, “You might not play by the rules, but I do, baby, and to hell if I will get away with you cashing in on our bet.”
His smoldering gaze eats me alive, the sun finally disappearing, leaving the moon and street lamps as our only light, casting an almost sinister look on him. Sweet Jesus, he’s hot.
He’s so effing hot.
The scruff.
Those eyes.
Those abs.
His cologne.
Even after a little jog he smells like heaven. How is that possible? How can a man smell that good? When I perspire I swear I smell like a cat peed on me. Not Hollis, nope, he smells like a freaking man carved out of Irish Spring soap, with a touch of sex.
Not like the gross sex smell that permeates the room after penis twists and turns inside vagina. The kind of sex smell thatleadsto sex. Leg-humping smell, lose-all-control smell, the smell you inhale that makes your leg bounce, your tongue hang out, and a disgusting amount of drool slop around your chin. That smell. It’s the only way I know how to describe it.
That’s Hollis. I literally want to stick my head in his armpit and take a deep breath, maybe rub my cheek in it, bury my nose deep in the depths of that pit . . .
Christ. I really am horny.And I hope he doesn’t realize this.
Instead of answering him, I allow him to walk me to my door, too scared I’ll say something stupid if I open my mouth. Something like,“Take your pants off. Sparkle Nips wants a pony ride.”
Sparkle Nips . . .
I kind of like that one only because I like the image of it all, but I’ll never tell him that.
“Giving me the silent treatment again?” he asks, nudging my shoulder, smiling down at me wickedly.
“No,” I answer even though it’s a lie. “Just trying to figure out what you plan on doing to me with your win.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He winks, making my entire body heat up.
That’s what I’m afraid of. It is obvious.
Walking up the stairs to my apartment, it almost feels like I’m walking the plank to my inevitable doom. This entire latter half of my day has been a ticking time bomb since Hollis interrupted my much-needed, planned-out exercise. When I got home from dusting Bellini’s face with powder, I needed some kind of energy release thanks to the built-up tension Hollis has caused within me, and Iwasgoing to do that with a nice run along the beach. What I didn’t need was him interrupting me and throwing me for another loop.
Finally reaching my apartment, we stop in front of the door where Hollis turns me to face him. His eyes are heated, his hair is perfectly messy from our run, and that body of his is sun-kissed and muscular. The light of the hallway bounces off every contour of his chest.
This is not faring well for me.
He lets go of my hand, and grips my hips instead, slowly pushing me against the wall.
Nope, this isn’t good at all.
“Do you remember what I told you the other night?” he asks, leaning forward, his body heat turning the temperature up between us.
I take a second to swallow before nodding. “Yeah.”
“And what was it that I said?”
