Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Maple
I feel so dizzy the only thing keeping me up is the bracket of Holt’s hands on my hips. “What are we doing?” I gasp, trying to catch my breath.
Holt’s breathing just as hard, his forehead pressed to mine after making out against the front door. “I like you, Maple. I like you very much.”
My lips tilt up into a smile hearing his confession. “I like you too.”
Holt pulls back just enough to grin down at me, his eyes sparkling. “Say it.”
I tilt my head. Maybe I’m lacking blood flow to my brain because I don’t know what he wants me to say. “Say what?”
He leans down and rubs his nose against my cheek. His whisper fans across my ear. “Say you have a crush on me again.”
A giggle threatens to burst the mood, and I desperately want to do more than just kiss Holt tonight. “I have a crush on you, Holt McGrath,” I whisper back.
His smug grin is the last thing I see before his hands are in my hair and his mouth is devouring me once again. Just as quickly as they threaded into my hair, his hands are rough on my hips, pulling me upward. Instinctively, I know what he’s asking. I jump and wrap my legs around his waist. His hands smooth over my ass, kneading and soothing. He spins us away from the door, our lips still sealed together.
I figured he’s moving us into his bedroom and get a surprise when he slowly squats down, placing me on the couch. He untwines my legs from around his waist and stands up. His half-hooded gaze traces up and down my body like he can’t believe I’m real.
“Stay right there.”
Holt grabs the stack of blankets on the floor between the chair and the wall, unfurling them to make my makeshift bed. My heart melts, knowing he remembers that I don’t like real beds and isn’t going to pressure me into going into his. When the blankets are in place, he pulls his shirt over his head and stalks back over to me like a superhero about to turn to the dark side.
I hold up one hand, palm forward. “Wait!”
He stops on a dime.
“I need you in your glasses. My crush has the hottest glasses.”
Holt’s expression goes from surprise to a level of heat and want that takes my breath away. He runs back into the kitchen and jams a pair on his face. Yes. There it is. The awkward cute guy from my youth, all grown up and hotter than any summer bonfire. He stops on the way back to get Mookie settled on her doggie bed and then slides it into the kitchen where I can’t see her.
I sit up on the couch and Holt positions himself in front of me. Ever so slowly, he reaches down and pulls me to my feet. His hands fist my shirt and tug it up and over my head, careful not to pull on my hair. Cool air brushes across my heated skin and puckers my nipples.
“Fuck, Maple,” he breathes, his hands immediately coming up to cup my bare breasts.
“Need a second?” I tease, feeling his stare.
His gaze comes up to meet mine, his pupils blown wide. “Your breasts are incredible. I’m officially obsessed.”
He sweeps his thumbs across my nipples, and I feel the electric pulse all the way into my toes. My eyes flutter closed as he kneads and thrums them in an intoxicating rhythm. Shitting shiva, I could come just from this alone. My eyes fly back open as his mouth latches on to one nipple. His teeth scrape just to the edge of pain, his tongue coming along after to offer relief. Damn. The man knows his way around a pair of breasts. My hands land on his shoulders to keep me upright as he showers the other side with the same treatment.
“Holt,” I whisper, desperate for more. I need him naked. I need his hands between my legs. I need that talented tongue everywhere. Right. Fucking. Now.
He straightens, blinking several times. Then he drops to his knees and unbuttons my shorts. He pulls them down my legs, dropping his forehead to my hip bone when he sees I’m not wearing underwear.
“I, uh, need to do some laundry,” I offer as an excuse for not wearing any.
Holt doesn’t answer, he just growls as he rips the shorts off my legs. He pushes his shoulders between my knees and kisses my pubic bone, just above the light patch of hair I keep trimmed.
“Standing or sitting?” he asks.
I don’t have an answer because looking down to see this specimen of a man between my legs is stealing every brain cell I have.
“Sitting it is.” He reaches up and pushes my hips back down to the couch, abruptly pulling me to the edge of the couch cushion. He flops my legs over his shoulders, looking down at me like Mookie looks at a treat. He dips his head, uses one hand to spread me apart, and dives in with his tongue and teeth and lips. The edges of his glasses gouge into my thighs.
I cry out, tipping my head back against the couch. I could swear I see stars on the ceiling instead of wood slats. Holt flicks my swollen clit over and over, then changes it up at the last second to lick from stem to stern, all the while his other hand is twisting my nipple. My fingers thread through his hair and I hold on tight, anchoring myself to this man, knowing he’ll safely see me through to the end. Holt’s too nice of a guy to not let me leave this nest on the floor without an orgasm or two.
A thick finger slides inside of me, right as he goes back to flicking against my clit. Tingles shoot from my legs to my nose, then back down to my pussy. Everything is trembling. I’m chanting nonsense and breathing erratically. Holy fuck, did someone light a bonfire in here?
Holt adds a second finger and that bonfire’s bright light is searing my eyeballs even with my eyes shut tight. I scream Holt’s name as the orgasm detonates and I clench my thighs around his head to try to contain it. The Fourth of July fireworks go off on the backside of my eyelids. My toes curl and I’m pretty sure I bruise his back as my heels bang against his thick muscles.
It takes years to come down from the orgasm, during which I’ve probably suffocated Holt. My eyes recover first, flipping open to see the ceiling, wood planks intact. I tilt my head down and find Holt gazing up at me, glasses askew on his handsome face. He’s grinning like I didn’t just try to murder him with my thighs.
“Oh good. You didn’t suffocate.”
Holt huffs out a laugh and lets go of my boob long enough to straighten his glasses. “Would have been my favorite way to die.”
He slides my legs off his shoulders and sits on the couch, pulling me into his arms to play with my hair. I catch my breath against his bare chest, embarrassed when I realize he still has his shorts and shoes on. He pauses.
“What, Maple? What bothered you just then? I felt you stiffen.”
I lift my head, suddenly feeling so embarrassed my cheeks go flaming red. Holt looks alarmed.
“Hey. Maple, honey? Remember what I said before? I want to know what you need. What’s got you embarrassed?” He reaches for me and smooths my hair away from my face so he can see me clearly.
I smile, but it’s hesitant. “I was just embarrassed to come all over your face and you’re still dressed.”
Holt’s face turns from worried to smug. “If I had my way, you’d come all over my face every day.”
He lets me go, standing suddenly. He kicks off his boat shoes in a flourish. They each clunk to the floor on either side of the room. Then he hooks his thumbs in his shorts and pushes them down his hips. A perfectly straight, long, thick erection bounces free. My mouth waters at the sight. He grabs ahold of the base and gives himself a slow stroke.
“The real question is how do you want this? What’s your favorite yoga position, moonbeam?”
I lift my face to his, a shocked laugh tumbling out of my mouth. “Yoga position?”
He smiles and steps toward me. “Yeah. What’s your favorite?”
I shrug, brain addled when what I want to do is drop to my knees and choke on the man’s dick. It’s like I’m front row to a Magic Mike show and instead of being able to touch the dancers, I’m being interviewed.
“Uh, the splits,” I finally answer, throwing out the pose I worked the hardest on when I first took up yoga in college.
Holt holds out his hand and I take it. He pulls me off the couch and points to the blankets. “Show me.”
I blink. “Show you? Like, right now?”
His smile drops and suddenly his voice hardens. “Show me right now, Maple.”
My insides quiver at his tone. Oh fuck, I kind of like it when he gives me orders. I give him a sloppy salute and saunter onto the blankets. I can feel his gaze on my backside as I move. I bend over as sultry as I can in my birthday suit and warm up my hamstrings, then I slowly lower into a front split. I flutter my lashes to Holt over my shoulder before pressing back up and attempting the much harder side split.
As soon as I get all the way down to the blankets, I feel the heat of Holt crouched behind me. His hand smooths down my spine.
“That’s sexy as hell, moonbeam,” he whispers into the back of my neck as he swipes my hair over one shoulder. “Can you lean forward and hold that position?”
I suddenly realize what he has in mind and it makes me wetter than the lake out the back door. I slowly ease my upper body forward until my forehead lies on the stack of my hands. Holt makes a strangled noise behind me.
“How are you this incredibly sexy, Maple?” His hands rub down my back, kneading my flesh all the way to the globes of my ass.
My breath hitches, heart rate sky high. Yoga always relaxes me. It’s a sacred hour where I can retreat from the world and focus on my body, turning stress into sweat that drips down onto my mat and is released forever. I met Dexter in a yoga class, even taught alongside him, and not once had I ever been so attuned to him instead of me.
Beyond the stretch in my thighs, all I can think about is the audible breathing behind me. The catch in Holt’s steady rhythm the second I eased down into the blankets in front of him. The rasp of his hands down my skin, the heat of him as he draws closer. And his gaze. Oh my savasana, can I feel his gaze lighting up every inch of my skin as he takes me in. I’m trembling, just waiting for him to take what we both desperately want him to take.
I hear a crinkle and it takes my addled brain longer to figure out what it is than it should. Belatedly, I’m relieved that Holt remembered to use protection when I didn’t. Then again, I trust him in a way I’ve never trusted anyone. It scares me a bit to even think about trusting a man again, but something about Holt makes the sleeping hope in my heart lift her weary head and sniff the air. I thought she was dead and buried the day I walked in on my ex with another woman in my bed, but leave it to Holt to nurse her back to life.
“If I hurt you, you have to tell me.” Holt’s hands wrap around my waist and slide down to my hips. My eyes flutter shut at his touch, every single nerve in my body holding its breath, waiting for him to fill me.
“Maple, sweetheart,” he says again, hands stilling. “I want to know.”
“O-okay,” I mumble back, determined to let him have his way with me no matter what. My yoga practice, along with surviving betrayal, has taught me I’m so much stronger than I think. Let Holt do his worst.
And then he moves, tugging up on my hips and pulling me onto the ramp of his thighs as he kneels behind me. The ache in my thighs instantly lessens. But in this position, legs flailed to the side, arms braced on the floor, I’m at his mercy. Exposed to his twenty-twenty vision, thanks to the glasses I insisted he wear. I try to remember the last time I shaved in earnest and come up empty.
Holt makes a sound, half growl, half whimper. “Dammit, Maple. So fucking beautiful.”
One of his hands leaves my hips and suddenly there’s a thick pipe at my entrance, insistent and hot. I tilt my hips back as much as I can and he slips inside me. We groan in unison.
“I should have known,” Holt grits out. “Best kiss, best pussy.”
Feminine pride warms me from the inside out. I preen, rolling my hips further to give him better access. Holt’s fingers grip me so tight I know I’ll sport bruises tomorrow.
“Breathe, moonbeam,” he orders. And I do.
On my exhale, and with another whimper-growl from him, he thrusts fully into me. My mouth drops open at the sensation. I’m probably drooling on the blankets and I just can’t seem to care. It’s all too much. The slight burn of my thighs in the splits, the feeling of being overly full, his hands gripping me as he grinds into my pussy.
“So good, so good,” I start chanting, absolutely mindless as Holt begins to move my body, pulling out and then sinking back in. The rhythm gets faster, but the stretch everywhere doesn’t change. Shivers track down my spine and Holt pauses long enough to bend down and trace kisses across my spine.
“Say we can do this again,” he says into my skin.
My heart is about to leap right out of my chest. The burn in my thighs and the fullness between them is making me feel like I’m about to leap right out of my brain. It’s a lot of leaping and not enough fucking.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant back quickly.
“Just this summer. You and me. We’re doing this.” Holt’s fingers tighten on my hips. I let out a mewl at the additional ribbon of pain.
“Yes!”
His heat leaves my back and suddenly he’s pounding into me, my body completely at his mercy. My face is going to be rubbed raw against the blankets by the time this is over and I don’t care. The angle is good. So fucking good. Each thrust has me grinding my clit against his thighs and I’m surely going to break in two at any second.
“Let go, Maple. Let me feel you pulse around my cock.”
Holt’s words are dirty. And fun. And so fucking perfect, I do just that. The world explodes into a kaleidoscope of colors and light. My body, overwhelmed with sensation, absolutely implodes. I cry out, shuddering and whimpering nonsense. Drool and tears mix to wet the blanket under my face. But Holt doesn’t stop, he just hammers into me over and over again until my tremors ease. And then he stills on a grunt, cock pulsing inside of me as he collapses some of his weight onto my back. He kisses my overheated skin, murmuring compliments I can’t make out, but instinctively know I like.
All too soon, he pulls out of me and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me backward so that my legs can release the splits. He leans against the couch and places my head against his chest. Then his hands reach around me to massage my legs. They’re screaming from the prolonged hold of the splits, but quickly turn down the volume as his fingers knead my tired muscles. Before I can thank him, I’m fast asleep in the cocoon of his arms.
Maple’s Journal - Year 26
(6 years ago)
“Good, Maple.” The reedy voice of the new yoga instructor flowed over my skin. He touched my back, pressing me further into down dog. “Come every day and you’ll soon master this position.”
He moved along to the next person in the yoga class, but he stayed with me. He stayed in my periphery as I rolled up my mat at the end of class. He crept into my mind that night as I reserved my spot in class the next day, making sure his name was listed next to the class time.
Maybe it was his physique. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and he was long and lean. Not bodybuilder strong, but clearly he kept in shape. Maybe it was the way he seemed to have an extra twinkle in his eye when he adjusted my poses. Maybe I just needed to get laid. Whatever it was, he positively beamed when he saw me in class this morning, sealing the deal on his position in my brain.
He walked barefoot into the studio and grabbed the edge of my mat, sliding it right behind his at the front of the class. I usually stayed in the back, wanting to focus on my practice and not on other people watching me or me watching them.
“Oh, I like the ? —”
His challenging eyebrow lift cut me off, while his hand intimately rubbed up and down my arm. “You like to be up here by me now.”
A thread of irritation slithered through me, but then he smiled and upped the ante by casually draping his arm across my shoulders, making me forget all about it. “You’re so good, Maple. The class deserves to see your poses.”
I soaked up his praise like a bone-dry sponge, along with his attention through the rest of the class. And before I walked out to my car, he’d asked me out on a date. I said yes, of course, because we had so much in common. He was a vegetarian. He liked yoga. He loved cats, not dogs, but that was close enough for me.
Maybe, just maybe, I’d found my person. The one person in my life who liked me for me, and not what they wanted me to be.