Page 44 of Sunday's Best

“Then be a good girl for me and grab the toy.”

Without a word, I obey. For a moment, the only sounds are the pad of my bare feet on the hardwood floor, the slow drag of my suitcase zipper, and Holden’s lumbering breath when I pull the massage wand from its sheath.

He’s sitting at the foot of his bed, watching with an expression that’s equal parts lustful and pained. And I settle into the throne of pillows, letting my oversized T-shirt pool around my hips, exactly like I was before he caught me.

“Show me how you touch that pretty little pussy.” His voice is low and obscene. “I’ve been fucking suffering—dying—since that night. Show me what I was missing.”

My thighs fall apart. My neediness is on display for him. The way I’ve soaked through the cotton underwear.

Holden clutches at the bedding, knuckles nearly white against the dark green comforter. His cheeks are flush, swallow audible, body visibly rigid.

The vibrator comes to life, a loud purr filling the small, dimly lit bedroom.

“You weren’t wearing panties,” he notes.

Right. I wasn’t. And of course he remembers that.

Slowly, I pull my underwear down my bare legs, watching his eyes as the light pink cotton slips off my feet. Clearly mesmerized, he runs a hand through his still-damp hair.

Then I press the vibrating toy against my pussy, moaning.

“Fuuck,” he groans. “That’s it. Take care of that beautiful little clit for me. How good does that feel?”

I respond with a needy noise low in my throat, chasing the throbbing need between my legs, the heat knotted in my core threatening to unfurl already. Wanting turned into needing. I’ve never been this close, this fast.

A rush of pleasure heats my legs, and my thighs slam closed around the toy instinctively as I writhe on his bed. Muscles straining, head thrown back, I’m barreling towards⁠—

Holden wrenches the toy from my grasp before I come. I let out a desperate whine, sounding like the air has been choked out of me.

Leaving the wand humming on the bed, he grabs at my thighs, dragging my body toward his. Forceful and demanding. So fucking hot. His nails dig into my flesh as he manhandles me, placing my feet on his shoulders, hoisting my ass off the bed.

And when he shoves his cock deep enough for his balls to slap against my wet skin, I cry out his name.

“This is what I should’ve done that night. I should’ve made you mine right then and there.”

“You did.” I belonged to Holden from the moment he made me come without even touching me. Before that, even. From the moment he started invading every thought, turning them salacious.

Now he’s here, filling every part of me.

“Finally, you’re mine.” He punctuates each word with a thrust.

Finally, I’m his.

Holden moves inside me, and his fettered breath blows hot against my ankles. Wet, slapping skin fills the room, tangling with our low, primal moans. It all echoes, against the walls and in my chest. Finally having the space, the freedom, to be together is ecstasy.

“You’re mine, angel. And this pussy is my heaven.” One of his hands leaves its position on my hip to reach for the still-buzzing wand. “Come, baby. Let me show you heaven, too.”

“I thought hell was more your vibe,” I tease, breathless and wanton. I rake my nails down his chest, stopping briefly to feel his thunderous heartbeat against my palm.

“It was.” He punishes my pussy with a deep, powerful slam. A tiny squeak slips from my lips. “Before you.”

“Holden,” I whimper. “More. Please.”

The vibrating head of my toy presses to my sensitive clit. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to wriggle out from under his heavy body, away from the callused hand holding tight to my hip.

But I also want to come. And that’s quickly escalating to a painful need to come. I need to let go.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” I moan.