Page 21 of Holden

Holden clears his throat. “I was right about you,” he says. I peer through my fingers, still red-faced with embarrassment. “You’re as sweet as sugar water.” He licks his lips as if to punctuate the sentiment and I want to fall through the floor to escape further humiliation.

This is so not me.

I’m not this girl.

But damn it, why not? I think of Lindsay and her complete lack of shame in bedding as many men as she wishes. I’m not like her—but what’s wrong with enjoying time with one man?

You’re not marrying the guy.

If only it were any other man…

The sound of Holden’s footsteps interrupts my thoughts. I sit upright, watching as he drags his office chair from behind his desk to the center of the room. With his eyes trained on mine, he unbuckles his pants, unzips his fly, and reaches into his slacks to pull out his cock. Even in his large hands, his dick is massive.

My mouth begins to water.

“It’s time for you to suck me off,” he says.

Any offense I should feel in his blunt instruction turns to lust. I practically fall off the couch in my haste to get to him. My knees dig into the plush carpet as I crawl across the room and kneel at his feet, and finally wrap my hand around his erect shaft. It is warm, and thick, and so hard—and for a second, I worry I won’t be able to fit it in my mouth.

I start slow, sliding my tongue across the tip, circling the ridge beneath the head. He smells like soap and cinnamon, a combination that seems to stoke my libido and provide much-needed courage.

My mouth lowers and eases over his cock.

He sucks in a sharp inhalation, and then groans with pleasure. “God damn it,” he murmurs. His hips slide closer, pushing himself further between my lips. I start to bob my head, each downward motion driving him deeper into my mouth. His fingers nestle in my hair.

“That’s it,” he says, a slight growl to his voice. “Suck that cock, sweetness.”

My hands cup his balls. I squeeze gently, eliciting another gasp, and adrenaline shoots through my veins. My lips curl up in a smile. I can tell that Holden is enjoying this, the way I’m touching him, and that shift in control fuels new confidence.

I put one hand on the floor and grab his shaft with the other, really leaning forward so I can take him all in. The head of his cock tickles the back of my throat. I close my lips tight against his thickness and suck as hard as I can while moving my mouth up and down the base of his shaft.

He reaches down to move my hair away from my shoulder. I glance up and meet his gaze. His eyes are hooded with desire. My tongue flicks back and forth over the tip of his dick and he moans deep, making known his pleasure. I lap it up.

“Fuck,” he says, through a grunt. “That feels so good, sweetness. What do you want me to do?”

“Come,” I whisper, and then take his entire length inside my mouth.

“Oh yeah, sweetness.” His hips swirl, lifting ever so slightly off the chair, pushing deeper inside me.

With one hand, I grab his cock just below my lips, and together, work my mouth and palm in a steady motion up and down. I am empowered by each grunt, every moan, and I pick up speed, drawing him closer to climax with each frenzied motion. My head is dizzy with power.

He thrusts once, and I take him all in. Slowly, I suck upward until I can feel his release building. When my mouth reaches the tip, he lets go. Hot, salty liquid floods the back of my throat.

Holden howls like a baying wolf, and then his entire body shakes. Goosebumps pimple his flesh, rough like sandpaper.

I slump against him, my hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, catching my breath. I am exhausted, but somehow exhilarated, glowing with ridiculous pride that I was able to satisfy him.

But the thrill lasts only a second before reality returns.

Holden shifts, signaling for me to get off him. I stand and tug my skirt all the way down to my knees, then adjust my blouse. Some of the buttons have popped loose, but there’s enough for me to cover myself. I’m suddenly grateful the office is empty so that no one will see me leave a wrinkled, just-fucked mess.

Holden carefully, methodically, pulls up his briefs, his pants, tugs on his zipper and buckles his belt, all without looking me in the eye. My stomach clenches. Have I done something wrong?

I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand and stare, blinking back the tears of what feels like rejection. Whatever tenderness Holden showed before he ripped off my clothes and brought me to orgasm is gone, replaced again with a coolness reserved for strangers.

Aren’t we more than that?

Why do I think that? Because he’s eaten my pussy? I shake my head with quiet humility. What a naïve assumption. If I’ve learned anything since meeting Holden, it’s that he’s unpredictable, moody, and conflicting—I should never assume anything.