I help Holly off my bike and walk her to the door with one arm around her. I do this partly because now I don’t trust her not to flee again, and partly because I just fucking love the feel of her in my arms. We barely make it inside before I slam the door and spin her around so she’s pushed up against it. My lips find hers, my tongue thrusting into her mouth, desperate for another taste of her. She’s pure sweet nectar, her flavor bursting in my mouth and making me groan as our tongues fight with each other for dominance. Her hands push at my cut, pulling it from my shoulders. I help by letting one arm go outwards and pulling it free, then copying the action with my other arm. I can’t use both at once; I have to touch her, keep contact with her.
My hands immediately go back to her body, holding onto her hips and pulling her against my cock because even covered up, the fucker wants her close. Her sharp little claws bite into my sides when her hands sneak under to pull my shirt up.
“Your shirt… take your shirt off,” she mumbles against my lips when we break away to drag oxygen into our lungs.
I growl because I don’t want to stop touching her. I do, but grudgingly. I throw my shirt to the floor. My reward is when her sharp little teeth bite into my stomach. She sucks the abused skin in her mouth, letting her tongue pet it, all while her nails dig into my back. Jesus. Fuck. She’s so hungry for it, she’s on fire. She kisses up to my shoulders, then bites me, my dick jerking in reaction. Her hands go down to the button on my jeans. They give, and then her hand slides inside to wrap around my cock.
That’s my cue to remind her who’s in charge.
I pull her arms up, capturing both wrists in one of my hands, then pin them above her head. My other hand wraps around her neck and I force her head back against the door. I don’t squeeze, but I exert enough pressure that she opens those emerald green eyes and stares at me. Her sweet, pink tongue that I’ve been playing with comes out to lick her lips. Her breathing is hard and ragged when I give my order.
“You don’t touch my cock until I give you permission.”
In response, she tries to pull her body away from the door, pushing against me. I tighten my hold on her neck to stop her.
“Quit teasing me!” she huffs, and that’s just further proof that this little girl has no idea who she’s dealing with tonight.
“You want it all, baby? You can have it. Just remember, you asked for it.” That’s the only warning she’s getting. Too bad it’s too late for her to do anything about it.
Do I want all of it? Is that really a question? I want to tell him to quit talking and show me more action. I don’t get the chance because he grabs the bottom edge of my shirt and pulls it over my head. Cool air meets my heated flesh and chills of excitement break out over my body.
“Take off the skirt, Holly. Leave your boots on,” he orders, his voice dark. At the mention of the fake name, my excitement cools, but I do my best to block it out. I push my nerves—and my skirt—down. I can’t exactly shimmy out of it. My leg doesn’t allow for that, and I don’t want Torch to see my injury—my weakness. My father and grandfather spent way too much time finding my weaknesses and using them against me. No man, no person, will ever do that to me again.
Torch has his zipper undone and his cock out, stroking it as he watches me. The sight makes heat run through me and it feels like every female part of me might spontaneously combust. I may not be as pure as my sister, but I’ve not exactly been with a huge number of men, either. Six, in total. Seven if you count Torch, and he should most definitely count. His dick is a work of art. It’s large, though not huge. Still big enough that it will take effort to work him inside of me. And he’s wide. He’s so fucking thick and wide that being with him may destroy me. He’s more beautiful than any work of art. As he moves his hand back and forth stroking himself, I pull my eyes up to take in his face. The obvious pleasure he gets from it and the lust in his eyes make my knees weak. Praise Jesus, I want to get down on my knees and worship at the altar of Torch. No wonder he’s a cocky asshole; women probably throw themselves at him for just a small taste once they see him. Who could blame them?
“You’re fading away from me, Holly. Eyes and mind, on me. Get rid of the bra,” he orders, and it may be my imagination but his voice seems darker and huskier than before. I don’t think to question him. My hands go immediately to my bra to do as he orders. “Stop. Turn around. I want to see your ass.”
I look up at him questioningly. I mean, that’s fine, it’s even kind of hot, but is there a problem with the rest of me? I ignore the voices in my head that tap into my own insecurities and turn from him. Then I take off my bra. I hold it away from my body, looking over my shoulder at him as I drop it to the floor.