9. Holden
9
HOLDEN
T he ocean felt like my mind—wild and unruly, full of currents I couldn’t control. Folly Beach was supposed to be my escape, the one place I could strip it all away—the weight of Moon, Conrad, and Hendrix, the mess they’d tangled me into. But today, the waves felt more like a trap, shoving me back into the shit I was trying to swim away from.
I paddled further out, the salt biting at my skin, my arms aching, but none of it dulled the image burned into my brain: the three of them naked, piled into Hendrix’s bed, Moon’s wild curls a messy halo around her face, her laugh low and wicked. Conrad beside her, stretched out perfectly at ease, his hand trailing up her thigh, his grin easy. Hendrix leaned back against the headboard, his broad chest bare, drinking coffee like he didn’t have a care in the world.
They were tangled together, bare skin and easy touches, like they’d been doing it forever. The sheets barely covered them, giving up any pretense. And Moon—Moon had looked like she belonged there, pressed between them, her body too comfortable, too inviting. She didn’t look conflicted, didn’t look guilty. She looked fucking radiant.
They’d been laughing. That’s what gutted me. Like it was all so natural, so effortless. They weren’t hiding, weren’t worried about being caught. I wasn’t supposed to be a factor. I was just some outsider, standing there like an idiot while they shared something I wasn’t part of.
Conrad—my best fucking friend—had been so in his element, like he didn’t even realize what it meant for me to see him like that. Hendrix—my stepbrother, my infuriating, carefree stepbrother—had only added to the punch. And Moon? She wasn’t just chaos; she was the storm itself, all wild energy and unapologetic beauty. She’d torn through me without even trying.
Maybe it was simply jealousy over Moon, or maybe it was the idea of Conrad slipping out of reach, finding connections I couldn’t touch. It was Conrad and Hendrix sharing something that didn’t include me. It was all of it, tangled and knotted into something I didn’t want to name.
The waves slammed against me again, knocking me sideways, and I let it happen, the saltwater burning in my eyes. I wanted to lose myself in it, to let the ocean strip away the mess, but it wasn’t enough. The truth was too loud: they were all mine, in different ways, for different reasons. And I hated it. Hated that I cared, that I wanted to belong in their cocoon, even though I knew I didn’t.
It hit me now—how much I was into her, how much I wanted her to be mine, and how fucking foolish I’d been to think she could feel anything close to what I felt. She’d been with them—while I was writing poetry about her. The anger boiled again, but it mixed with something else—embarrassment. Because deep down, I knew I was the one who’d been too damn invested, who’d let myself fall for a girl who probably never thought about me past the brief entertainment of our banter at Press.
Nothing had happened, not really. They hadn’t crossed a line. It’s not like they were supposed to notify me to hook up with someone or ask me for permission.
I turned back toward the shore, my chest still raw, my arms burning. I should’ve stayed longer, let the water drag me under until I couldn’t think anymore. But as I approached the sand, I saw her.
She was standing by the water’s edge, watching me with those eyes that saw everything I wanted to hide. My blood pulsed with a mix of desire and frustration.
I should’ve kept paddling. I should’ve turned back before she saw me, before she could get close enough to make my heart race and my fists clench.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Instead, I moved toward the shore, fighting the pull of my own confusion.
This was it. The moment I had to face it all. To confront the way she made me feel—and the way I couldn’t fucking escape it.
I dragged my board up the sand, the cool water dripping from me as I made my way toward her. Moon stood there, her silhouette framed by the mid-morning light, and I could see the tension in her posture, the way her shoulders were pulled tight, like she was preparing for a blow.
I didn’t know what I expected—maybe for her to apologize, maybe for her to defend herself—but when she looked up, her eyes met mine with a mix of vulnerability and uncertainty, and it threw me off.
"You’re here," she said, her voice almost too soft, like she was testing the waters.
"Yeah," I muttered, standing a few feet away from her, still wet from the surf, my muscles tight. I felt awkward, like I didn’t know how to approach her, like every word that came out of my mouth might be the wrong one. "What are you doing here?"
She hesitated, then let out a shaky breath, like she’d been holding something in for far too long. "I…I needed to talk to you."
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to appear indifferent even though my heart was pounding in my chest. The cool air felt too sharp against my skin, making me feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I wasn’t ready for. "About what?" I asked, my tone colder than I meant it to be.
Her lips parted like she was searching for the right words, and then she exhaled slowly. "About what happened. About everything."
I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I took a step back, staring out at the water, trying to focus on anything but the way my chest felt tight. "You don’t owe me an explanation. No one did anything to me.”
Moon shifted, a frown pulling at her features. "But I do,” she said quietly. "Conrad and Hendrix and me. I wasn’t—I didn’t want to hurt you. But…I don’t know what I was doing. I definitely didn’t want to make you feel like you didn’t matter." Her eyes were full of something raw, apologetic, and it made my chest tighten again. "I just…I don’t know where I stand with you. We had just hung out the one time. I don’t know how to feel about this."
I turned to face her, trying to read her expression, but all I could focus on was the way her voice cracked at the edges. It was too honest. Too real. And I had no idea what the hell to do with it.
"You think I don’t know that?" My words came out harsh, jagged with bitterness. "You think I’m not sitting here, thinking about how I caught you in bed with my friends? But also that I have no claim to you. They’re fair game. You can do whatever you want.”
She stepped back slightly, her hands nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt, her gaze dropping to the sand for a second. "I didn’t know what a fucking mess it was going to be," she said, her voice quieter now. "I didn’t know, Holden. I didn’t know that they were connected to you in any way. They’re just guys I met."
I raised an eyebrow in question, not fully understanding. "What do you mean? Just guys you met last night? How the hell did that even happen?"
She let out a soft sigh, her eyes meeting mine again, full of something that looked like regret. "I met them at an open mic night at Press. Hendrix was going to perform, and we ended up doing this song together. The connection was immediate—just this wild energy between us. He’s so intense, so present, and we both just got lost in the moment. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I didn’t expect to feel so crazy connected to him. And then after the performance, Conrad came up to us. He was so easy to talk to, so fun and…elusive but alluring, you know? I wasn’t expecting anything serious. I thought it would just be a night of drinking, playing a silly game, maybe a little flirting, but?—"
The weight of her unspoken implications—how she truly saw my friends, how her feelings for them ran deeper than drunken fun—pressed down on me. I clenched my jaw, forcing back the words I wanted to spit out.
"I didn’t know they were your friends," she continued, her voice almost pleading now.
I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. "And now? What does all of it mean to you?"
Moon took a deep breath, her gaze softening as she looked at me. “Honestly, I don’t know. We had a lot of fun together. I’d be sad to give up the creative vibe I have with Hendrix. Or the way I feel when Conrad turns his attention on me like I’m a mystery he’s meant to solve.”
I felt a sting in my chest as she spoke about them, and I tried to push it down, tried not to show how fucking jealous it made me.
"And with me?" I asked, my voice quiet but edged with something raw I hadn’t meant to let slip.
She smiled faintly, her fingers grazing my arm in the lightest touch, as if testing the space between us. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our coffee date.” Her voice was soft but deliberate, each word landing with a quiet weight. “You didn’t just look at me. You saw me—like I was something worth really seeing.”
Her gaze held mine, unwavering. “You made me feel like living art—something raw, untamed, but worthy. It’s the way your words wrap around a moment and distill it into poetry. It terrified me and drew me in.”
She paused, her fingers curling slightly against my arm. “And the way you look at me, Holden, even now,—it’s like a caress and a challenge all in one. Like you’re daring me to be better, while making me believe I already am. You’ve studied the greats. You know what beauty is, what greatness looks like. And somehow, when I’m with you, it feels like you see some of it in me.”
Her voice softened, the weight of her words settling between us. “You make me feel like I’m not just some impulsive, messy person, but that my messiness is splattered with instinct and intent—like a Jackson Pollock painting.”
The weight of her words settled in my chest, warming me with how she saw herself reflected through my eyes. But my jealousy still simmered beneath the surface. I clenched my fists for a moment before relaxing them.
"So, you have feelings for all three of us?" I asked, my voice tight with something I didn’t want to face.
She nodded, her eyes full of sincerity. "Yes. I didn’t expect it to happen like this. I didn’t expect to have feelings for you, or for them. But I do. And I can’t just turn that off. I can’t just pick one of you."
I stared at her, feeling a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something I didn’t have a name for yet.
"I get it I guess," I said finally, my voice low. "I’m just fucking jealous, okay? I have feelings for you too, and yeah, it’s hard seeing you with them. They’re my best friend and my stepbrother, Moon. And I don’t want to just be some guy in your rotation. I can’t pretend to be okay with it."
Her expression softened, and she stepped closer, her hand gently resting on my chest. “I’m not trying to make you just one of the options. I just—I need some time to figure out what I’m feeling. I’m usually so cautious to care, barely dipping my toes in, but the three of you have just hurled me into the deep end.”
I took a deep breath, the tension in my body finally starting to ease, though the knot in my stomach still hadn’t fully untangled. "So, what now?"
Moon looked at me, her eyes filled with something real, something that felt like a beginning. "We figure it out. Together. I can’t promise I’ll stop seeing them. But I just—I don’t want to lose you."
I nodded slowly, the truth sitting heavy in my chest. But standing there with her, the sound of the waves crashing behind us, it felt like maybe we could find a way through it, messy and complicated as it was.
I threw my surfboard on top of my Jeep, the sun now higher in the sky, casting a warm, lazy glow over the parking lot. The breeze was still cool, but it felt good, like the kind of day where anything could happen. Moon walked up beside me, her hands in her pockets, and that damn smile of hers was back, like she knew how much she had me tangled up in her.
"You want a ride back?" I asked, keeping my voice casual, even though I could feel the tension between us like a live wire.
She nodded, her eyes sparkling in that way that made it hard for me to focus on anything but her. "Yeah, sounds good. Want to stop by Press and I’ll grab us some coffees to go?"
I nodded and opened the passenger door for her. She slid into the seat, kicking off her boots before pulling her legs up. I couldn’t help but glance over at her as I slid into the driver’s seat, the space between us feeling both familiar and foreign at the same time.
I started the engine, and we rolled out of the parking lot, the tires crunching on gravel as we hit the road. The warm air came through the open windows, and the smell of the ocean still clung to the air, mixing with the faint scent of salt and sand that followed us.
For a while, there was just the sound of the engine and the hum of the wind. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something unspoken in it, like we both knew there was more we needed to say.
Finally, she broke the quiet. “I went out to your room earlier.” Her voice was soft, careful, like she was stepping over broken glass and unspoken boundaries.
I glanced over at her, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Oh yeah? What were you looking for?"
I could see her hesitating before she answered. "You, but you obviously weren’t there."
I raised an eyebrow, keeping my eyes on the road. "And did you find anything interesting?"
She shrugged, but there was something in her eyes—something playful, teasing. "Maybe."
My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t ask outright if she’d read my journal, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she had. I knew it was sitting right there by my bed, ripe for the reading. And I thought about what I had written—about her. I shifted the Jeep into a higher gear as we sped down the winding road, the tension between us building again in the quiet moments. My mind kept drifting back to how her body had felt against mine when we’d talked earlier, how every word she said felt like an invitation.
"So," she said, her voice low, like she was divulging a secret, "what if I told you I liked the idea of exploring things more? Between us, I mean."
My pulse quickened. "You like the idea?" I repeated, glancing at her quickly. "Or you like me ?"
She laughed, a soft, seductive sound that made my dick pulse. "I think you know the answer to that."
I couldn’t help but smirk, feeling the shift in the air around us.
She turned toward me, her eyes darker now, more serious, but still full of the feistiness that turned me on. She put a hand on my thigh. "I think you’ve had me figured out since we met, Heathcliff."
I didn’t say anything, just kept my eyes on the road, letting the silence linger between us like a promise.
We pulled outside of Press a few minutes later, the familiar storefront humming with quiet energy. I let the engine idle while she opened her door and hopped out of the Jeep.
"How do you want it?" she asked me.
“Just like my soul,” I joked.
“Dark and hot it is then,” she quipped without missing a beat. “But I know your soul is secretly marshmallow soft.”
I watched her walk inside, and my mind kept wandering back to everything we hadn’t said, everything we were still dancing around. The way she made me feel like I was both at the edge of something and completely out of my depth.
When she came back, holding two cups of coffee, she slid into the passenger seat again, and I couldn’t resist. "Thank you," I murmured, letting my fingers trail up her thigh in a light playful dance. Then I leaned in and nipped at her ear.
“You’re dangerous.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them, hanging between us like a confession and a warning.
"I know," she whispered, leaning in just enough that her breath brushed against my ear. "But I think you like it."
I gave her a quick, sideways glance, my hand still resting on her leg, but the distance between us felt smaller now. Everything in me was pulling her closer, wanting to see where this would go, knowing we were both walking a fine line.
"You don’t even know how much I like it," I said softly, giving her thigh a final squeeze before I pulled away, taking the coffee from her hands.
She didn’t say anything else, but the look she gave me was enough.
I started the Jeep again, turning back toward my place. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but as I drove, the air between us was charged, like everything was up for grabs, and nothing felt off-limits anymore.
The steam from the shower still clung to my skin as I walked back into my room, dripping with water, my towel slung low on my hips. It felt like everything was charged—like even the air between us had a pulse, and I could feel it in my body as I moved. I wasn’t sure if it was the shower, the conversation we’d had, or just the fact that Moon was sitting on my bed, skimming through my copy of The Great Gatsby , but I was already half hard pressing against the towel. She didn’t miss it.
Her eyes flickered from me to the book in her hands, her finger tracing over my annotated notes with a soft laugh. "I didn’t take you for someone who thinks Gatsby’s that tragic," she said, her voice teasing, but there was something almost provocative in the way she spoke, like she was challenging me with every word.
I leaned against the doorframe, unable to take my eyes off her. "Really? You wanna debate Gatsby’s demise right now?" I asked, my voice huskier than I meant it to be, the heat between us rising in the space where we hadn’t even touched yet.
Her gaze flickered to mine then dropped to the bulge beneath my towel, her lips parting for a second as if she was taking in every detail of the moment. She smiled, her eyes darkening. “Yeah, we’ll save that for later. You’re kind of hard to ignore at the moment.” She looked at me like she was waiting for me to make a move.
“I won't write you a tragedy, baby. I've got a different kind of drowning in mind.”
Moon’s laugh was soft but knowing, and then she set the book down beside her on the bed, the weight of her attention completely on me now. "What does that involve?" she asked, a naughty gleam in her eye.
I reached for her, trailing a slow finger down her arm, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. “You’ve been torturing me all morning.” I let my hand slip lower, skimming over the delicate bones of her wrist. “Dragging me under with every look, every little tease. And now? I just want to drown in the taste of you.”
She leaned forward, her breath catching as I slid my hand down to her wrist, guiding it up my chest, feeling the way her pulse quickened beneath my touch. She was so close now, just a breath away, and I could feel the pull of her body, the way her warmth seemed to fill the space between us.
“It doesn’t hurt to torture you a little,” she murmured, leaning in just enough to brush her lips against mine—light at first, restrained, and then deeper, as if we couldn’t resist the pull of each other any longer.
I groaned softly, my hand cupping the back of her neck as I deepened the kiss, tasting the sweetness of her lips, the urgency in her movements matching mine. Her mouth molded against mine, our breaths in an intimate rhythm that left no space between us. My body was pressed against hers now, and I couldn’t ignore the way she felt—sexy soft curves over toned lean muscle. Her hands slid up my chest, fingertips grazing over my wet skin, and I pulled her closer, desperate for more.
"Moon," I groaned against her lips, “you’re killing me here.”
She chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, like she couldn’t get enough either. "What a sweet death it’ll be though," she breathed. “I know all about it. I sat on your bed this morning, imagining your bite, feeling that velvet ache.”
So she had read my poetry. I sucked in a breath, even more turned on hearing her repeat my words.
It consumed me—mixed with the heat of her touch, the way her fingers trailed over the outline of my hardening cock, the towel doing nothing to hide the pulse of my erection against her hand. Her hands slipped under the towel tucked at my hips, pulling it down in one swift drop.
I stood there, watching as Moon’s gaze dropped lower, like she was drinking me in, and it made my skin flush, my pulse quicken.
She hesitated for just a moment before trailing her fingers down my ribs, over the tattoo on my side—a quote in a line of small script running up the side of my ribcage. She lingered there, her touch soft but purposeful and looked up at me questioningly.
“For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror,” I recited the quote for her. “It’s Rilke’s Duino Elegies .”
She nodded in recognition and then moved lower, her fingers tracing my V muscles, dancing through the short, trimmed hair at the base of my cock, teasing me with her fingertips, before brushing against the swollen pink head. I shuddered at the sensation, my cock twitching in her hand as she slid her thumb along the edge.
She traced the slit again, pressing just enough to make me twitch, a sharp pulse of pleasure shooting up my spine. “I could stroke you just like this, barely touching, teasing you with your own slick until you’re shaking for me—until you’re desperate enough to beg.”
My breath hitched as she continued to tease me, the pressure building with every slow stroke. "You feel so good," she murmured, her fingers moving with more confidence, rubbing the head of my cock in soft circles. “Like silk stretched over iron.”
I groaned, my hands instinctively reaching for her, pulling her closer, but she stayed just out of reach, her eyes locked on mine as she continued to explore.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she breathed out with awe.
“Hush,” I ground out, my voice thick with intent. “You’re the beautiful one. I’m the damned, remember?”
Her fingers lingered for a moment longer, feeling the weight of me, the heat radiating from my skin, before she slowly pulled her hand away. Her gaze never left mine, and I could see the anticipation building in her eyes, the way she was just as ready as I was.
I reached out, my hands moving to her top, and with a deliberate tug, I pulled it over her head, revealing the delicate lace of her bra—a pale lavender, barely containing the softness of her breasts. The fabric was sheer, revealing the slight outline of her nipples, hard and eager for my touch. My hands moved quickly to the clasp, undoing it in one smooth motion, the fabric falling away to leave her breasts bare.
She stood there before me, her body soft and exposed, the light catching the curves of her skin. I let my fingers trail down her sides. As I slid the lace panties down her hips, my eyes followed the motion, taking in the way her legs parted slightly, revealing her pussy, bare and smooth, soft folds hinting at secrets between them. And then I noticed it—the small birthmark on her hip, just a little above the lace, shaped like a star. I traced my finger over it gently, a smile pulling at my lips.
"You have a star on your hip," I whispered, my fingers lingering on the spot. “It’s perfect.”
Moon looked down, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she blushed slightly, her eyes meeting mine. "It’s always been there," she said softly, her voice a little breathless. “Fitting, right?”
I guided her down onto her back, my hands running over her skin. I could see the way her eyes fluttered, the way her body was so vulnerable and exposed. Her legs spread wider to make room, her pussy glistening, so ready for me. I moved above her, keeping my hand on her hip, adjusting her until her pussy was lined up with the edge of the bed. I stood at the foot, her legs bent and spread, as I slid inside her, the wet heat of her pussy swallowing me whole. I was aching, desperate to feel her in every way.
My hips began to move in a rhythm that kept the pressure constant—using the crown of my cock to drag against her walls, my body swiveling as I pushed deeper with each stroke, teasing and stretching her, pulling every sweet moan from her lips.
As I shifted my angle, the head of my cock pressed against her walls. Her breath caught, and I could feel her body respond, the ridged texture drawing me back to it with every thrust, like a hidden magnet pulling me deeper.
"Fuck, that feels good," she gasped, her voice ragged. I kept circling my hips, letting the head of my cock nudge against her sensitive spot, the sensation almost unbearable as her body reacted to every small shift. "Fuck, Holden, you’re…making me feel something…something different."
"Yeah?" I whispered back, my voice rough, my hands gripping the sides of her hips as I pushed harder, hitting that spot again and again. “Let yourself feel it all. You feel incredible, clenching me so fucking tight.”
Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper as she matched my rhythm, her breath coming in shallow gasps. I kept moving against her, letting the crown of my cock slide against her walls, each swivel making her shudder more, her pussy tightening around me with every thrust.
My hand moved between us, finding her clit, circling it with the same rhythm, the same force. Her hips bucked up to meet me, and I felt her body tense, a soft cry escaping her lips. "Holden," she moaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and disbelief. "I’m going to?—"
And then it happened. I felt the unmistakable pulse of her orgasm starting to build, and before we even knew what was happening, her body jerked violently beneath me as a wet surge rushed out of her, soaking me and the bed.
Her breath came in short, panicked bursts. “I—I didn’t know—I didn’t know I could do that. I haven’t before,” she gasped, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
I looked down at where we joined, mesmerized by the sight of her folds swallowing me. “That was incredible. You came so hard. Seeing you lose yourself like that—feeling your body give in—it was the sexiest thing ever.”
Her body trembled beneath me, her pussy still clenching around my cock, and I groaned at the sensation.
Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, her gaze flickering down to my chest as she hesitated. Then, in a voice so soft I almost didn’t hear it, she whispered, “Can you keep going? I think I’ve got…more.”
My cock throbbed at her words, the shy vulnerability in her tone igniting something feral in me. I leaned down, brushing my lips against her ear. “More?” I repeated, my voice rough with arousal. “Then let me give you everything.”
The way her walls gripped me so tight made it impossible to hold back any longer. My fingers tightened around her hips as I thrust deeper, feeling her pulse around me, the pressure building in both of us.
"I’ve got you," I whispered, pushing harder into her, my hand still on her clit, adding just the right amount of pressure, knowing exactly how she needed to feel me.
She gasped again, her back arching off the bed as her body trembled with another wave of pleasure. "Holden," she moaned, her legs wrapping around me as her hips bucked up to meet mine. The second orgasm hit her with even more force, a loud cry escaping her lips as her body tightened around me, her pussy gripping me so tightly I couldn’t hold out anymore.
I lost myself inside her, my cock twitching, and with one final thrust, I shot my cum deep into her, my release flooding through me. I buried my face in her neck, breathing hard as we both trembled in the aftermath, our bodies shaking with the intensity of the connection we’d just shared.
Moon’s breath slowed, her hands still on my chest as she caught her breath, her fingers tracing absentminded circles on my skin. "God," she whispered, her voice filled with awe. "That was—I didn’t know it could feel like that. You—" she paused, her body still shuddering from the aftershocks of her orgasm. "You just made me feel things I didn’t even know were possible."
I kissed her forehead softly, holding her close as the aftershocks of our pleasure faded. "That was mind-blowing," I whispered, my hands smoothing over her body, keeping her close.
She smiled, her lips curving into a sly grin. “Maybe next time I’ll blow your mind,” her voice light and suggestive as she wiggled her eyebrows.
I laughed, shaking my head as my hands slid down to rest on her hips. Before I could reply, her fingers lightly ran up and down my back, and her tone softened, dripping with satisfaction. "You sure know how to fuck a girl right, Heathcliff."
“It was my pleasure. And you can blow my mind anytime you want, baby,” my voice laden with innuendo and lust.