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I didn’t know how I managed to stay mostly quiet. I sucked in a strangled breath and held it, my hips jerking against Holt’s rubbing hand as my fingers dug hard into his thigh. Just as my body started to sag, I heard him cut off a strangled sound as he released my throbbing cock to grip my thigh tight with trembling fingers, directly over the wet patch now seeping through my jeans.
My chest was heaving as I looked over with dazed eyes and saw his cock buck in his pants while he shook beside me. Oh my god, Holt was coming. Just from aggressively rubbing my cock through my jeans. I mean, he’d barely even been touching his own dick, but he was breathing fast as his hips strained up off the couch and his head briefly fell back.
“You okay, boss?” Larkin suddenly asked from the other couch behind us.
“I’m fine.” Holt’s voice broke, going a little squeaky. He picked his head back up and blinked blearily at me, his cheeks flushed a darker grey and his eyes heavy.
God, I wanted to kiss him again so bad. Why had I insisted on staying here to watch the wrestling? I hadn’t even actually been watching it. Reluctantly, I tore my gaze from Holt and stared down into the arena, my heart still pounding from the brain-searing orgasm.
Val Kyl-More had reached the ring and was standing on the ropes in the corner as she pumped up the crowd. She was dressed in a pair of tiny gold shorts and a matching sports bra, her fiery red hair wound into braids that dangled in loops underneath her gold helmet. Small wings with white and grey feathers flexed on her back.
“Aaand making her way to the ring, taking on our favourite Valkyrie tonight, weighing in at two hundred pounds…” the commentator announced. “Don’t get too close, folks, or you might get a hoof to the face… It’s… The G.O.A.T!”
Pipe music played over a pounding drumbeat as tendrils of brown and green smoke crept out from one of the side entrances. A woman with furry brown goat legs, horns curling back out of her messy blonde hair and a brown leather crop top covering her chest ran out onto the walkway in a rush and stomped her hooves in time with the drums. Then, as the crowd screamed, she threw her head back and let out a loud, ululating scream that made me jump violently.
“Wha…?” I mumbled, my brain still not fully back online.
Holt cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the leg of his slacks. “She’s a faun. Half goat.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “But why did he spell it out?”
I heard Larkin snort behind us. “Taylor, you’re like, so old, man.”
“No he’s not,” Holt snapped, glaring back at him.
I chuckled. “I mean, I probably act older than I am. I’m definitely not down with the kids or anything.”
“Down with the kids,” Larkin muttered with a snicker. “You’re, like, kind of cool in that totally not-cool dorky way, you know? Like your sneakers. They’re so tragic it’s almost an ironic statement.”
I blinked down at my sneakers. Okay, yeah, they were pretty old, and not all that flattering or stylish, but they were comfortable. Weren’t sneakers supposed to be comfortable?
“I like your sneakers,” Holt said defiantly, his eyes flaring with heat as he glanced down at them. Side-eyeing Larkin to make sure he wasn’t still listening, he leaned in and whispered, “They turn me on.”
“R-really?” I breathed, hoping I didn’t look too adoring as I gazed at him. Holt, this beautiful, successful creature who was responsible for all of this, was turned on by me. Taylor Hough. Sad office worker, avid consumer of depressing British soaps, man who ironed his underpants and admitted to farting in his manager’s office.
Holt nodded, his hot gaze sliding over me. “And those dad jeans. God, Taylor.”
I gulped, feeling my cock twitch in the hot, wet mess of my pants. I couldn’t get hard again. I was pretty sure there might be friction burns on my dick.
Chapter Fifteen
The Tassels of Triumph
The orgasm had definitely helped with my mental state, even though my boxer briefs were now gluing themselves to my leg as my cum started to dry into a sticky mess. I could tell Holt was as uncomfortable with the sensation as I was, periodically shifting and fidgeting with the leg of his pants.
Aside from that, I was calm and pretty relaxed. I couldn’t stop smiling. Val Kyl-More and The G.O.A.T.’s match was entertaining as heck, and the most beautiful man—monster man—I’d ever seen had just made me come and told me he wanted me to dip my balls into his mouth.
I mean, this was a pretty awesome night, all things considered.
There was still a mild panic attack hovering at the edges of my consciousness as I watched an actual half-goat lady fly through the air and double-kick Val Kyl-More in the chest with her hooves. I caught sight of Lizard Granny in the audience and felt my pulse quicken. I didn’t know why she was a trigger for me. Maybe because she’d laughed at the frosting on my face before. Possibly because of the watching-her-transform-into-a-giant-lizard thing. Most likely a mix of the two.
Larkin fell quiet as he got engrossed in the game on his phone while we watched the wrestling. I took a long gulp of soda to replenish the fluids I’d lost, the ones currently drying in my pants, and settled back on the couch. Holt was still sitting fairly close, and without turning his head away from the arena below, he slid his hand back onto my thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.
My gut went all squirmy with pleasure. God, when was the last time someone had touched me like this—with just casual affection? Longer than four years. Marcus had stopped cuddling up to me on the couch or in bed way before he eventually left. I didn’t know how long he’d been cheating on me with Sage—I’d never asked, preferring to remain ignorant—but it had definitely been a while.
I hadn’t fought for him when he’d told me he was leaving me. Honestly, I hadn’t felt all that much. More than anything, I’d just been bitter that he’d shaped me into the partner he specifically wanted, then decided he didn’t even want that anymore. I hadn’t really been heartbroken, just resigned.
As The G.O.A.T. pinned Val Kyl-More to the mat and the ref dove into the ring to count, I licked my lips nervously and covered Holt’s hand with my own, curling my fingers into his palm. For a second, I wondered if this might be too much—hand-holding was a whole different kettle of fish to getting each other off—but he immediately flipped his hand to lace his fingers through mine. My belly fluttered again, and I tightened my grip, glancing down to look at his long, elegant grey fingers with their hot pink nails intertwined with my boring pale ones.
