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I’d done that. Fuck yeah, I still had it. I was some kind of handjob wizard. And blowjobs. Honestly, Holt made me feel pretty amazing about myself. I hadn’t had that in a really long time.
Peppering kisses over his neck and shoulder, I reached for the coffee table and grabbed one of the napkins that had come with our breakfast sandwiches, using it to wipe up his stomach and the thread of cum dangling from his cockhead. He shuddered again, his thigh muscles jumping against my palms as I stroked and massaged them soothingly.
“Fuuuck.” Holt let out a slow breath and lifted his arms to wrap them loosely around the back of my head. “You make me come so hard, Taylor.”
I smiled into his neck, feeling lighter. Dropping another kiss there, I eased his sweats back up and tugged down his T-shirt for him, then rubbed my hand over his stomach. He covered my hand with his, threading our fingers together.
“Sorry if I, um, said some weird stuff. About fucking you in front of hundreds of people.”
I chuckled. “I liked it. I mean, I like you talking about it… I don’t think I actually wanna do it though. If that’s okay,” I added nervously.
He laughed breathlessly, squeezing my hand. “Of course it is. I like talking about it too, but I’m not really an exhibitionist. Much.”
That “much” was very intriguing and a little intimidating, but I didn’t ask him to elaborate, because he was blinking drowsily as his head lolled on my shoulder.
“Wanna suck you off,” he mumbled sleepily. “As soon as I can move.”
I chuckled, shifting beneath him. “I’m okay. I’m really comfortable right now.”
“Me too.” He yawned, then twisted around and groaned in pleasure as he smushed his cheek into my chest, going completely lax.
My whole body went all warm with happiness. I played with his hair as his breathing evened out, trying to gently comb out the fuck knots with my fingers. Within minutes, he was snoring.
Pretty loudly, actually. Like a jet engine. But the sound of it made me grin.
Chapter Twenty
Questionable Suggestions for Moussaka
Holt slept for a couple of hours while I watched TV, trapped beneath him. I was totally fine with that, even though I could feel a puddle of drool soaking through my T-shirt.
When he eventually woke, he smacked his lips and rubbed his nose against my chest, then settled again with a groan.
“Sorry,” he croaked. “My sleeping pattern’s all… I tend to sleep for a few hours at a time throughout the day.”
“It’s okay.” I smoothed my hand through his hair. “Is that an empyn thing?”
“Kind of, but also because of the club and having to be around in the day for other business stuff. Running the office buildings, blah blah.” He snuggled deeper into me. “You’re so warm.”
I chuckled. “Well, that’s because you’ve been sleeping on top of me.”
“You smell really good.”
I flushed. “Thanks.”
“I’m kinda hungry.”
I paused, then laughed again. “Um, there’s some roast chicken in the fridge. And ice cream in the freezer.”
His head popped up. The look of surprised pride on his face made me pathetically happy. “You got yourself ice cream? Fuck yeah, Taylor.”
“I know, I’m living on the edge.” I hesitated, then leaned in and kissed him. Holt immediately kissed me back, reaching up to cup the side of my neck, his thumb smoothing over my jaw.
His tongue slicked into my mouth, softer and slower than all the other times we’d kissed with frantic desperation. I shivered, sinking deeper into the couch and tangling my legs with his. My libido was roaring back to life after going into hibernation for so long like a depressed bear. I could easily do this all day. I didn’t want to stop.
Eventually, though, the kiss ended when Holt’s belly rumbled loudly and I chuckled against his mouth. He grinned at me, pressing one last kiss to my cheek before bounding up from the sofa, suddenly full of energy again.
“Chicken and ice cream. The major food groups.” He made his way toward the kitchen, and my eyes were glued to the words emblazoned across his ass. “Mind if I get it?”
