“No.” My answer came out sounding like a plea, and that’s exactly how it felt.
The pressure of his swollen tip at my opening was sending signals to my brain that I couldn’t ignore. I wanted him so badly. My body craved him. These past weeks hanging out in the friend zone had been miserable for me. Knowing that he’d been wanting me as much as I’d been wanting him was more of a turn-on than anything I’d ever felt before.
“Ah,” I whimpered as he began to push into me, and I braced myself for the force of his thrust.
But instead of continuing to push in, he stopped. I felt his forehead rest on my shoulder. His breaths were shallow, and I immediately grew concerned. Had he hurt himself when he’d been on his knees going down on me? Was standing up like this too much for his back? Should I take over again? I wanted to speak up and say something, but I didn’t want to kill the mood, so I waited.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He finally gritted out as his fingers tightened their grip around my wrists sending a signal down to my core causing it to clench with need. “You feel so good. Too good.”
My hips rolled of their own accord, pulling him a fraction deeper and he sucked in a hissing breath.
“Don’t.” The bravado of his deep-voiced command vibrated through me causing a shivering thrill to run from the top of my head to the tips my toes. “Don’t. Move.”
“I didn’t mean to.” I hadn’t voluntarily moved a muscle.
He lifted his head and removed his hand from my hip. The next thing I felt was my hair being brushed off my neck to the side. A cool burst of air and the touch of his lips softly grazing along the newly revealed area made the tiny hairs on my arms stand up. As he placed soft kisses up and down my neck, his hand reached around and cupped my breast.
With each press of his lips, each squeeze of his hand, he pushed into me in incremental measures. It wasn’t inch by inch, it was millimeter by millimeter. Pressure built low in my belly as I surrendered to all of the sensations I was experiencing.
His unhurried tempo was its own form of sensual torment. When he’d said that nothing he wanted to do to me was nice, I’d expected him to take me hard and fast. I’d braced myself for rough and dirty and this was gentle and intimate.
Slow swirls of pleasure began to build low in my belly causing my thighs to tremble. In the back of my mind, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to stay standing. My legs felt like noodles as all the strength drained out of them. I tried to use the wall as leverage to brace myself, but my knees still buckled.
Holden must have sensed the shift in my bodyweight because the next thing I knew, the hand that had been kneading my breasts was back on my hip and he was steadying me. He let go of my wrists and my arms dropped. They didn’t fall down beside me, instead my hands were now flattened on the wall on either side of my face. His arm snaked around my waist and his hold caused my hips to tilt up. The new angle allowed him to drive deeper inside of me.
My inner walls stretched to accommodate him, and I cried out. After just a second of pain, the sting of intrusion dulled into heavy, pulsating pleasure. As soon as the sharp tension eased, he pulled out and pushed into me again. Once again, I felt a sting which was immediately followed by a deep, aching pleasure.
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Yes.”
The next thrust was a little harder and made a slapping sound. I’d never really paid attention to sounds before. But this encounter had built up at such a slow pace that I was hyperaware of everything I was experiencing.
I’d heard theories that when one of your senses were deprived, the others would overcompensate and become even more heightened. That was what I felt like, except none of my senses were compromised. The slapping sound was added to the soundtrack of our synchronized breathing and the pounding of my heart. The aroma of his musk surrounded me, cocooning me in his masculine scent. My mouth watered with the taste of his tongue still fresh in