I pull her into my arms, bringing her mouth to mine, my tongue thrusting past her lips, tasting her, making her taste herself. It’s raw, desperate—exactly what I want her to feel. I wrap her legs around my waist, lifting her with ease and carrying her down the hallway.
I throw her onto the bed, my weight pressing her into the mattress as I continue kissing her, devouring every inch of her mouth, every gasp, every sigh.
“Holt?” she whispers, her voice filled with need.
“Hmm?” I murmur against her skin, my lips trailing down to her cleavage. I tug her bra down, exposing a perfect nipple, and I capture it with my mouth, sucking hard, flicking my tongue over the sensitive peak.
“I—” Her words falter as she watches me, her chest heaving. “Holt, I?—”
“Tell me anything, precious,” I say, my voice low and rough. I smile at her—a slow, crooked smile that I know drives her wild—before returning to her breast, sucking and licking, my other hand sliding her panties off completely. I hike her skirt higher, exposing her bare heat to the cool night air.
“Holt—” she moans, as my finger slips into her slick folds, stroking her. I add another finger, pushing deeper, feeling the way she clenches around me.
“Yes, baby?” I tease, my voice a slow, deliberate drawl. I keep thrusting my fingers inside her, making her body sing.
“I’m a virgin.”
As soon as she says the words everything in me shifts.
“What? Are–are you sure?” I manage, but my mind spins. There’s a swift, sharp ache in my chest, like I’ve been hit by a blunt force. I can’t stay still. I jump up, pacing, my body still humming from her touch, but my thoughts are a tangled mess.
I look back at her, my eyes locking onto hers. Her irises are glazed with the aftermath of lust—raw and real, a look I know I put there. It does something to me, knowing I’m the one who’s made her lose control like this. But then I register what she’s just said, and the gravity of it sinks in.
She’s a virgin.
How? She’s so goddamn beautiful, so perfect. She could have any man she wants—yet, she’s here with me, a man who’s fucked up more times than he can count. A man who doesn’t deserve this gift, but wants it more than anything.
“I think I’d remember,” she mutters, shifting awkwardly. My heart pounds harder, my hands starting to tremble. I hate the doubt that’s crept into her eyes.
I know I should let her go—she deserves someone better, someone good—but I can’t. The second I saw her, it was like the ground fell out from beneath me. She’s in my blood, running wild through my veins.
“I’m sorry–it’s just…I did not expect that,” I blurt, my voice raw. I grab her, cupping her face between my hands, forcing her to look at me. “I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in my own head–you’re the only thing that matters to me. Protecting you is all I care about.” My voice softens, but the urgency is still there, real and honest.
Her eyes well up, and she squeezes them shut to keep the tears from falling.
“I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” she finally says, her voice stubborn but shaky.
“Not a chance in hell, baby. I’m glad you told me.” I press a soft kiss to her forehead. “It’s good you told me. Now I can do this right.” I thread my fingers through her hair, guiding her closer for a gentle kiss that’s more apology than passion. “Holttiful Lila.”
I take her hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “Have you ever slept under the stars?”
I unroll my sleeping bag as I speak, eyes never leaving hers. She laughs softly, the sound warm and genuine, easing some of the tension between us. “I don’t even have a change of clothes.”
“You won’t need any.” I grin, laying the sleeping bag out for us and settling down on it before pulling her back to me with a new kind of intent. This time, it’s not just about desire. It’s about giving her what she deserves—something sweeter, more meaningful.
I lay her down gently, slipping the pants down her thighs and then threading my fingers through her hair, my lips brushing along the soft curve of her shoulder, then trailing down the hollow of her throat. She’s so goddamn beautiful, and she’s mine.
“Panties down,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. “Touch yourself for me.” Her eyes widen, uncertainty clear on her face, but I can see the curiosity there too.
“Show me how you get that pretty pussy off.”
Her breath catches, and she hesitates, her hands shaking slightly. She’s pure, untouched—not just by other men, but by herself, too. My heart tightens at the realization, and I feel an overwhelming urge to protect her, to cherish her.
“Take it slow,” I whisper, guiding her hand with mine down the soft skin of her thigh, my fingers brushing lightly over the waistband of her panties. Her breathing quickens, and I watch, my gaze fixed on her face. “Slide your fingers over your clit,” I instruct gently.
She follows my lead, her fingers moving tentatively at first, then more confidently as she feels the pleasure building. She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut, and I feel a surge of pride and possessiveness.
“Good girl,” I murmur, my voice thick with lust. “Keep going, baby. Keep swirling those fingers until you can’t take it anymore.”
