17. Holden
SEVENTEEN
Holden
INDECENT PIPERPOSAL
“Are you sure you can’t leave?” Piper asks, dreamily, as she wanders over to the window beside the front door. “Oh…” she says as she sees how much snow has accumulated. “Gosh. It’s really coming down, huh?”
I shake all thoughts of coming and going down out of my head, but I cannot stop staring at her bare thighs. From the hem of her short skirt to the top of those over-the-knee socks. That is where I want to be. Between those thighs. “Yeah. I mean, if we really need to get somewhere nearby it would still be possible if we drive really slowly and if it isn’t downhill. But there’s a severe weather alert on my weather app, so it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“So…” Without turning away from the window, she says, “You don’t want to go anywhere nearby?”
“I don’t. Do you?”
She shakes her head.
“Did you bring anything? For an overnight stay? Besides charcuterie for Shay?”
She turns to face me, grinning. “Lainey packed me a weekender bag. In case I decide to stay with Journal Guy.”
“And you’ve decided to stay with Journal Guy?”
She nods, staying over by the window.
I clear my throat for effect, cross my arms in front of my chest, and say, “You mentioned something about a lot of things you want to do? Are these New Year’s Eve related activities, or…?”
And there are those pink cheeks again. “Ummm…” She self-consciously buttons her white blouse all the way up and smooths the fabric down at her waist. “I would propose…” she continues as she looks all around the room, everywhere except my face. “I would propose that we do the things I haven’t done yet. I mean…” She laughs at herself. “I mean, I haven’t done most things yet. With a guy. But what I would like to do tonight is all the things that lead up to the main thing.” She waves her hand around. “Y’know. All the bases. Starting with the basics.” She wrinkles her nose and finally meets my gaze. “Would that be lame and boring for you?”
“No. I’m in. When do we start?”
She covers her face and giggles. “Um. I don’t have anything else to do, so…now?”
“I accept your proposal.” I clap my hands definitively and then go over to the big screen to change the cable channel. “Should we put on a movie? I like a good thriller or horror film in the background when I’m trying to get to first base.”
“I have gone to first base,” she clarifies. “I’ve just never really gone through the whole sequence, you know? With one guy.”
“Got it. Well, like I said: I’m in.”
“Not until we go through all the bases,” she quips. “Wocka wocka.”
I slowly look over my shoulder at her.
She’s scrunching up her adorable face and grimacing. “Please tell me you didn’t hear that.”
“I definitely heard you quote the catchphrase of my favorite Muppet.” I find Scream on a movie channel, which is perfect. I turn the volume way down. Rolling up my sleeves, I turn around and find Piper sitting on the sofa, crossing her legs and tugging her skirt down. “Can I get you anything? You good?”
“I’m good. I do kind of like this movie.”
“Great.” It’s the middle of the afternoon and I don’t expect anyone to walk by the cabin, but I close the living room curtains anyway. There’s just the one table lamp on in here, dim enough for movie watching and a make-out session. Then I mosey on over to take a seat next to her, leaning back to stretch my arm across the back of the sofa.
Piper shifts around a little, leans back for a second, then gets up to grab the open bottle of champagne and takes a pull. “Ahhhh.” And then she takes another pull and smacks her lips together. “Did you want a glass?” she asks sweetly.
“Later,” I say. “I’m good.”
She takes one more sip, puts the bottle down, arranges the big vase of flowers just so, then turns around and climbs onto my lap, straddling me. Which is not what I was expecting, but I have zero complaints. “Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
She combs her fingers through my hair, and there is nowhere else for me to put my hands other than on her ass—over the skirt. “I really like your hair and your eyebrows,” she tells me, and then she kisses me, very demurely.
“Thank you. So this is first base?”
“Yes. I mean, I know there are wildly different definitions, but you may proceed to second base.”
“Which is?”
“Hands under the shirt.”
“You got it. Second Base mode activated.” I kiss her as I slip my hands under her blouse, brushing my fingertips ever so gently across the skin just above the waistband of her skirt. On the big screen, Deputy Riley is questioning Sidney, and I question Piper silently.
Is this slow enough? I ask with my hands as I caress the warm skin of her waist. Sensing a shift in her, I pull back from her lips so I can watch her face. Her eyes are closed; she sighs. She’s sitting on my thighs between my crotch and my knees. Lowering her hands from my hair to my shoulders, she starts swaying her head and torso, ever so subtly at first. My fingers travel up her back. Her blouse is loose enough that I have room to maneuver, but I already know the answer to another question— Are you wearing a bra? The answer is no. I could tell when she walked out of the bedroom. Her nipples have been flirting with me from under this white blouse for what feels like forever, and I can finally start flirting back.
Piper’s eyes are still closed, lightly, not squeezed shut. Her head tilts back a little and then to one side, as if she’s focusing her attention, like someone trying to meditate for the first time. She isn’t tense. I can feel her body relaxing into this. The hunger she had on the phone last night, all that frantic energy she had earlier…it’s still in there somewhere, but she seems to know that she has time. That we have time. And it’s not restraint so much as patience and trust, and I have no idea why that is so sexy but I want to make her feel good in a way that I never have with another girl. Not for my own ego, but for her.
My hands encircle her rib cage, and my thumbs stroke the bottom flesh of her breasts as delicately as I can. Piper exhales and places her hands behind herself, gripping my knees as she arches her back a little and opens her heavy-lidded eyes to meet mine. Inviting me to touch her more, and I accept this invitation. I cup her breasts with both hands and watch her head fall back as she sighs and slides down my thighs to my crotch, bearing down on me. I watch her eyes flutter open as she realizes how hard I am between her legs. She gasps, and I kiss her again. Her hips start rocking back and forth, and I groan into her mouth and stroke her hard little nipples. I want so fucking badly to put my mouth on them, but I will keep my hands under that blouse and massage her tits for as long as I can without losing my mind.
I’ve got over a decade more experience now than I did when I had teenage girls dry humping me in cars and on sofas when their parents were out, but this is a thousand times hotter.
She fills my hand—I can feel her swelling up as she presses herself into my palms. Kissing me deeper and deeper, her tongue is getting more confident. She is slowly becoming a goddess beneath my touch. Her breathing is heavy and womanly, but her sighs are high-pitched and it’s a song I haven’t heard before. The sound of something she’s sharing with me and only me, and I hear it in my cock and in my soul. I break the hypnotic, very stimulating flow of massaging her tits to squeeze her hips, just once, and it triggers something amazing.
She starts grinding down on me. The friction is fantastic and terrible, and it’s a good thing I’m an actor because I’m starting to lose my cool, but I will control myself for Piper. She breaks our kiss and starts unbuttoning her blouse, struggling with the buttons. But I’ll let her handle that because I need to stroke her thighs under her skirt. “Third,” she says, breathless. “This is third, I guess? Or is this still second?”
“What are we talking about here?”
“Tops off. Kissing everywhere.”
“Yeah, good—second, third, whatever.”
She’s still struggling with the buttons. My hands slide up to her ass. She’s wearing cotton panties and I want to see her in them, but when I give her plump ass cheeks a squeeze, it elicits a little squeal and then she gives me the most pleasant surprise ever. She tears the top of her shirt apart, exposes her full, beautiful tits, and pulls my head toward them.
I eagerly lap and suck and swirl my tongue around and flick at her nipples, and her joyful gasps and moans are the sound of a naughty angel singing. I pull apart the rest of the buttons and help to free her from her shirt. Her tits bounce around as she wriggles out of it, and they are exactly as pretty and full of life and love as she is. I just want to hold and kiss them and rub my face all over them forever and ever.
My hands explore every inch of her naked torso, and I’m aware of her watching me now, the way I was watching her before.
“Holden,” she whispers.
“You are so fucking beautiful” is all I can say. My eyesight is blurry. This is more than lust. It’s possible this ache I’m feeling isn’t just the blood rushing to my cock, it’s a full-body need to be with this person.
She isn’t grinding down on me anymore; she’s found a slow, rocking rhythm.
My next silent question for her as my hands travel south again, under her skirt: Is your pussy ready for my fingers? Because I need to feel how wet you are.
She nods, understanding what I’m asking. “Yes. Yes.”
I rub her clit through the soaking wet fabric of her panties, and the way she shudders and catches her breath is exquisite. Just that. So responsive to my touch. It’s thrilling. I feel like a fucking god, and I still have all my clothes on. Slipping my fingers under the loose waistband of her panties, I find her so slick with arousal, my groan fills the room. “Jesus. Fuck.” She rubs her clit against my hand, and I just let her do that for a little while before slowly, slowly curling my index and middle fingers and sliding them inside her.
I watch as her mouth opens.
Her muscles tense around my fingers.
She is so warm and wet and swollen down there, and I want to be inside her. Not just my fingers and my cock and my tongue—I just want to live up in there.
“Holden!”
“You feel so good.”
“I like it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, stay there.”
“I’m going to.”
My left hand is squeezing her round ass cheek. Her breaths have become so ragged and her voice is getting hoarse. She groans. I don’t know if she’s ever groaned like this before, but I know I’m the first guy to make her groan—I just know it—and I like that. She starts clenching and releasing around my fingers. This is what your cock has to look forward to, my brain tells me. Get me in there now! my cock is yelling. Silky nectar spills out into my hand as she slowly moves up and down and around—testing out this feeling, I suppose, and she definitely likes it.
She reaches down, takes my left hand out from under her skirt, and presses it flat against her stomach. Encircling my wrist, she guides my hand up between her breasts, up the front of her neck, under her chin, and then she kisses the tip of my thumb and sucks it into her mouth.
Jeeee.
Zus.
Fuck.
Fuuuuck.
She takes my index and middle fingers into her mouth now, holds my hand with both of hers and slides my fingers in and out of her mouth the way I’m sliding the fingers of my right hand in and out of her pussy.
Her moans are otherworldly, and I am fascinated but I am also losing my fucking mind.
I don’t know what's happening to me, but it’s intoxicating.
I am so into this girl—I want to make her come and protect her and buy her a house, and I will ride dragons for her and star in a fucking rom-com if that’s what it takes to make her happy.
She gasps, as if realizing something. Releases my fingers from her mouth, looks down at me, and places both her hands on my chest. “Can I take this off?” she asks as she reaches for the bottom of my shirt.
“Thought you’d never ask.” I slide my fingers out of her slowly and raise my arms so she can pull my shirt up and over my head.
She tosses it aside and smooths her hands over my pecs and abs, my biceps, eyes wide and smiling like this is an even better present than the stuff I ordered from Amazon or the sandwich. All the overhead squats and mountain climbers and Russian twists and no refined or processed foods I’ve endured for the past month have been worth it in this moment as she traces the outline of my abs with her fingertips. I just don’t know how much longer I can wait to slide on home.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, marveling at my upper body in awe.
Nobody has ever said that to me before. People have made that comment on my Instagram posts, of course, but this is the first time a woman has said that to me while looking at me like this. Really looking at me.
I slide two fingers up inside her again and curl them toward myself, finding her G-spot. Her eyes widen even more and then squeeze shut at the same time as she clenches her pussy. She arches her neck, her back and finally makes that sound I’ve been waiting for when I gently stroke her there—a deep, low groan. So sexy and earthy, and there is still so much more I want to do for her. So many more ways I want to make her feel.
She raises her head again, slowly, like it’s heavy, as if she’s awakening from a dream. And she holds my gaze as she reaches between my legs. She looks surprised. Maybe a little scared by how big and hard I am for her. It’s deeply satisfying. But I don’t want her to be scared.
I slide my fingers out of her, drag the palm of my hand down the inside of her thigh, let her feel her own elixir on her skin. Then I cup her face with both hands, something I seem to want to do a lot—cup her face and drink her in. I devour her lips with mine, so she understands how much I want her, that the manhood beneath her hand is filled with desire for her .
She massages my erection over my jeans, then unbuttons and unzips them so fast I don’t even realize what’s happening. She reaches between my jeans and boxer briefs, stroking me. It is the best kind of torture. “Wow, it’s so big,” she says into my mouth.
“Don’t be scared, baby, okay?” I kiss along her jaw, kiss her neck, take her earlobe between my teeth. “We can wait until you’re ready.”
Her hand finds its way inside my underwear, and she gasps when she grips the shaft. “It’s so hot! Holden. Your skin is hot .”
“I burn for you,” I say into her ear. It isn’t until after I say it that I remember how every female I knew kept quoting “I burn for you” when Bridgerton came out, and I don’t know who said it or if this is what they meant, but it’s not a line.
She exhales a little laugh, and I know she thinks I’m quoting a Netflix show now, so I say, “This is me wanting you, Piper. You tell me when you think you’re ready, but I think your body is ready, and I just want you.”
She stares down at my mouth and then down at my erection, and God help me, she licks her lips and swallows hard and then says, “I think I’m ready, Holden… Take me to the bedroom.”
And I do.