Page 65 of Stroked Hard
“How was your day?”
“Fine,” I reply stiffly, reaching to unlock the door. Making quick work of it, I open my door and step in, disengaging myself from Hollis, who doesn’t seem too happy about the move. Clearing my throat, I hold out my hands. “I can take my stuff now.”
A deep furrow forms in Hollis’s forehead as I reach for my things. He steps back, not allowing me to grab anything. “You’re not going to invite me in?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I answer honestly.
“And why not?”
Sighing with defeat, I lean against the doorframe and say, “We want different things, Hollis. I don’t want to lead you on.”
“And what exactly is it that you want?”
One night.
One night where I forget about everything in my life and just enjoy your lips, your touch, your smell. Just one freaking night where I can dream of the perfect man Iknowdoesn’t exist.
“Not this,” I answer, hating the way it sounds so harsh coming out of me.
I wait for a reaction, for a smart-ass comment but nothing comes. Instead, Hollis studies me, his eyes full of concern. Defeat sags in his shoulders finally when he hands me my bags that I set on the ground in the entryway. With no passing words, he takes one last look at the flowers he bought and gives them to me, a note planted firmly in the middle by a plastic stick.
I can’t read it.
I know it will break me.
“Thank you,” I say on a whisper, not able to look into his eyes. They’re too hurt. The hope once springing from them has been extinguished . . . by me.
Isn’t this what I wanted? For him to finally get a clue?
If so, then why does it hurt so bad?
“Sure,” he answers, his hands in his pockets, a strand of his hair falling over his forehead.
“Okay, well, have a—”
My words are cut off by Hollis. His body moves so quickly, I don’t even see him coming. Maneuvering inside my apartment, he presses me up against the wall of my entryway, the door still wide open and my hands pinned above my head by one of his strong ones.
My breathing is heavy from the sudden movement and before I even have a chance to catch it, Hollis has his lips on mine in a feverish attempt to keep me still.
It works.
His hips lean up against mine, his spare hand gripping my ribs and his mouth working mine thoroughly. I get lost in the taste of him, in the weight he’s pressing against my body, in his scent and the small moans coming deep within his throat.
God, he’s so damn sexy.
I love how he wants me, desires me.
Little waves of his hips against mine turn my core slick, sending butterflies through my stomach, and making my legs weak at the knees. The hand that grips my ribs moves up higher so it sits right below my breast, his thumb skimming the underside like the other night. The light caress creates a deep throb within me.
In the midst of him taking over my body with his mini thrusts and touch, his lips are demanding, taking more than I’ve ever planned on giving him in the entryway of my apartment. With precision, his tongue breaks the seal of my lips and explores my mouth, tasting every inch of me.
All I can do is settle into the wall and let this all-consuming man turn me into mush with each thrust of his hips, every caress of his thumb, and every lick of his tongue.
My heart is beating out of my chest as my tongue plays against his, begging for more. I want so much more. My body wants to connect with his in every way possible but my brain knows it’s a bad idea, knows I’m only bound to get hurt. Too bad for my brain, my body is winning out, shoving any internal dialogue right out the window.
Moaning, I try to remove my hands from his grip but he holds on strong, using his weight to pin me down. I want to touch him. I need to touch him. I want to feel his abs, feel the well-defined divots, the velvet-soft skin I stare at when he’s dressed in only his suit. Is it as soft as it looks? Would he like my tongue running all along it?
Moving a little deeper, he matches each thrust of my tongue, exploring wildly. His demanding approach is not what I expected from this smart-ass of a man, but hell if it doesn’t turn me on even more.
