11. Holly
Chapter 11
Holly
I glare down at the box I’ve just dug out of the trash as if my frustration alone can change how infuriating it is. Who knew making a casserole from a box could be this difficult? I forgot how long to set the timer, which led me to rummage through the bin for the instructions in case I’d missed anything else. At home, I never had to cook. Holidays meant catered feasts, glittering dinner parties, and expertly set tables. But now, standing in this simple, cozy cabin, making a meal for Jack, I experience a sense of accomplishment.
It’s Christmas Eve. A Christmas tree Jack chopped down our second day here stands in the corner of the living room, the tinsel and lights he found in a storage closet twinkling merrily, a spark of hope in the darkness.
We’ve been here for a week. Seven days of lying low, hiding in this safe house nestled deep in the mountains. Seven days of quiet punctuated by moments of sharp awareness, as if we’re both waiting for the other shoe to drop. And despite the tension, or maybe because of it, I’ve come to love this little bubble we’ve created.
My gaze drifts around the cabin as I take in its charm. It’s a simple structure built more for function than style. The front holds the kitchen and living room, made cozy by the fireplace’s heat. A short hallway leads to the bathroom and two bedrooms, both with king-sized beds neatly made with patchwork quilts and thick blankets. The dressers hold a few clothes for us, nothing fancy, just practical items, likely from a basic department store.
The contrast is stark. A week ago, my closet was full of designer labels, but I’m so much happier now, without the weight of luxury and expectation, than I ever was surrounded by excess. Being here with Jack fills me with a kind of peace I’ve never known.
My lips curve into a soft smile as I glance over at him. He’s sprawled on the sofa, one arm draped over his head, the other resting across his chest. His face is relaxed, illuminated by the glow of the fire. It’s rare to see him this at ease. Even in sleep, there’s usually a tightness to his jaw, a readiness in his posture. But now, he looks peaceful, and it stirs something warm and protective inside me.
Jack has refused to let me do anything that might strain my injury, so I’ve spent most of my time on the sofa while Jack played nursemaid. My thigh twinges faintly at the thought, but it’s nothing compared to what it was when we first arrived. The pain has lessened, and the wound itself is closing nicely. Still, Jack insists on inspecting it daily, changing the bandages with a care that’s equal parts tender and maddening.
Because while his hands are gentle when tending to my injury, they’re infuriatingly distant the rest of the time. He’s even insisted we sleep in separate rooms so he doesn’t accidentally jostle me in his sleep.
I get it. I do. He’s worried about hurting me. But after everything we’ve been through, the physical distance is unbearable. Every lingering glance, every accidental brush of his hand, sends a current of frustration zipping through me, a frustration he doesn’t seem to share—or at least pretends not to.
The problem is, I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to tiptoe around each other, pretending this fire between us doesn’t exist. I want him desperately, and I’ve run out of patience.
Time to take matters into my own hands, so to speak.
I put the casserole in the oven and set the timer—I have an hour to seduce the man I love.
I move quietly to the sofa, sitting on the edge as I watch him. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the firelight dancing across the planes of his face. Even in sleep, he exudes strength, his body honed for protection, for action. My fingers itch to trace the softness of his beard, to savor the warmth of his skin.
As if sensing me, he shifts slightly, his eyes fluttering open. They’re unfocused for a moment before they land on me, and then they soften, a slow smile tugging at his lips.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. “What’s got you staring?”
“Just thinking,” I say lightly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “You look… peaceful.”
His smile fades slightly, replaced by a hint of self-awareness. “I shouldn’t. I should’ve been watching you.”
“You’ve been watching me all week, Jack. You deserve a break.”
He sits up slowly. “You’re not a break, Holly. You’re my priority.”
Something tightens in my chest at his words. “And you’re mine,” I reply softly, my hand finding his. “But you don’t have to protect me from everything, Jack. I’m not as fragile as you think.”
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “I’ve been resting for a week. I practically grew roots into the sofa. Besides, I’m only making dinner.”
His gaze flicks to my injured leg, still wrapped in bandages beneath the soft joggers I’m wearing. He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he shifts his position to sit fully upright. “You’ve been through hell, Holly. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“I’m not proving anything,” I reply, my tone softening. “I wanted to do something for us. Something normal.”
Jack’s expression shifts, his usual sternness giving way to something tender. He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against my knee. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know. That’s my job.”
I smile, covering his hand with mine. “And who’s supposed to take care of you, Jack?”
His lips twitch into a faint smile, though a shadow of worry still lingers in his eyes. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”
“Pot, meet kettle,” I tease, earning a low chuckle from him.
Our mutual stubbornness is becoming a familiar dynamic—one that feels more like a bond than a battle. Jack’s protective nature and my determination to reclaim some control over my life are constantly at odds, but they’re also what keeps us moving forward.
Putting stage one of my seduction plan into place, I lean forward, capturing his mouth in a kiss and swiping my tongue over his bottom lip.
Jack groans, his hand sliding through my hair to cup the back of my head as he deepens the kiss. “You’re healing,” he says, breathing heavily as he pulls back. “I’m not risking setting you back.”
“You won’t,” I insist, frustration creeping into my tone. “I know my limits. And I know yours.”
He looks at me for a long moment, his jaw tightening. I can see the war waging inside him. “I don’t want to hurt you, Holly?—”
“I’m already hurting, Jack. I ache here”—I cup my breasts—“and here”—I slide one of my hands between my legs. “Ivy is empty and lonely.”
Jack’s brows pull down in a frown. “Ivy?”
I nod. “My vagina. If I’m Holly, she should be Ivy, right?”
A grin tugs at his mouth. “By that reasoning, are you saying my cock should be called Frost?”
I purse my lips, pretending to think about it. “Jack Frost. I like it. Although, Ivy recalls that there’s nothing ‘frosty’ about him. Beanstalk would be more appropriate.”
Jack’s shoulders shake with laughter. The sound is warm and rich, making me ache for him.
“Beanstalk, eh?” His grin widens as his hands find my hips. His touch is firm, and sends a delicious shiver through me. “Is Ivy ready to climb Beanstalk?”
“Oh, she’s ready,” I counter, my voice sultry as I lean closer, letting my lips graze his ear. “She’s been ready since the last time Beanstalk gave her a ride.”
“Hollyberry,” he murmurs, his tone half warning, half plea. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
“Oh, I do,” I counter, brushing my lips against his. “I’m asking for you.”
I see the second his restraint finally snaps, when he wants me too much for anything else to matter. With a low growl, he pulls me into his lap, his hands firm but careful as they settle on my hips. His mouth captures mine in a kiss that’s fierce, consuming, and leaves no doubt about how much he’s been holding back.
“I’ve missed this,” I whisper against his lips, my fingers threading through his hair as he presses me closer.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed it,” he rasps, his hands sliding up my back, holding me like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded. “But if we do this, I’m in charge. We go slow. I mean it.”
I nod, breathless. “Slow is fine. Just… don’t stop.”
Jack’s lips twitch into a grin, his resolve clearly crumbling. “Slow it is,” he murmurs, and his mouth finds mine again, the promise of what’s to come making my heart race and my body hum with anticipation.
For now, the world outside doesn’t matter. It’s just us—Holly and Jack finally giving in to what we need.
Jack stands with me in his arms, his mouth still on mine as he stumbles toward the bedroom I’ve been sleeping in. He sits me gently on the bed, his hands going to the hem of my T-shirt. I lift my arms, and he pulls it over my head, a deep groan emerging from his throat when he sees I’m not wearing a bra. My joggers are next, eliciting another growl at my lack of underwear. The only piece of material covering me is the bandage around my thigh.
It suddenly dawns on me that this is the first time he’s seen me naked. Our first time together at his cabin was under a blanket, and I was wearing his shirt. I’m overweight with big boobs and a soft stomach, but Jack looks at me like I’m the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen, like every curve and dip of my body is a treasure he’s desperate to explore.
“Fuck, you’re killing me, Hollyberry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust as his hands settle gently on my hips, his thumbs brushing over my skin like he’s committing every inch to memory. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
“You make me feel beautiful,” I whisper.
Jack whips his T-shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor before removing his sweatpants. Like me, he’s not wearing underwear, and my mouth waters as I look my fill.
His body is stunning, with long, efficient lines, every inch packed with tough muscle. A light trail of hair narrows down his midriff, thickening between his legs where erect his cock angles away from his body.
Still standing by the side of the bed, Jack reaches out to gather me against his chest. I shiver at the sensation of so much bare skin, so much hardness. I’m a jumble of nerve endings held together with a blush.
“Did you ever imagine we would be doing this?” I ask in a wondering tone.
“About two seconds after we met,” Jack says roughly. “And I haven’t stopped since.”
A grin tugs at my lips as I lean forward to kiss his bare shoulder. “Me too.”
Jack’s head lowers, and the light, erotic pressure of his mouth sends pleasure coursing through me, his beard a delicious abrasion against my skin. Every time I think the kiss will end, he finds a new angle, a deeper taste. My body heats from the inside out as if he’s pouring sunshine into me. Dazed with pleasure, I slide my arms around his neck, sinking my fingers into his thick hair.
He eases me back on the bed and climbs beside me, one hairy leg settling carefully between mine. “If anything hurts, tell me, and we’ll improvise.”
“Improvise, huh?” I waggle my eyebrows, my playful tone masking the nervous flutter in my chest. “You have a plan for that, too, Mr. Always Prepared?”
Jack’s lips curve into a wicked grin as his hand slides up my thigh, stopping just shy of where I want him most. “Holly, I’ve spent the last week imagining all the ways I could make you feel good without risking this beautiful leg. Let’s just say my ‘improvise’ game is solid.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks, but I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “Is that so? Well, show me what you’ve got.”
His deep chuckle vibrates against my skin as he leans down, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Challenge accepted.”
His mouth trails a line of soft, teasing kisses down my neck, each one lighting a fire beneath my skin. His hand shifts, gripping my hip with gentle strength, and I arch into his touch, every nerve alive and reaching for him.
“Jack,” I breathe, his name a plea on my lips.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs, his lips skimming my collarbone as his fingers trace slow, maddening circles on my uninjured thigh. “I want to hear it from you, Holly.”
My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. “I need you,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “All of you.”
He pulls back to meet my gaze, his dark eyes burning with equal parts desire and tenderness. “You have me,” he says, his voice raw and certain. “You’ve always had me.”
And then his mouth is on mine, claiming and consuming, as his hands map my body with a reverence that makes me feel cherished.
Taking my hand, Jack guides it down to his groin. “Touch me,” he says hoarsely. “I need your hands on me.”
More than willing, I stroke the silky, rigid length of him, my thumb slicking over the slick of moisture at the tip.
“Fuck,” Jack curses, inhaling sharply.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, circling my thumb over the sensitive head.
“Yes.”
I wrap my hand around him and give him a few firm pumps. “And this is mine.”
Jack’s eyes close briefly. “Fuck, yes. All yours.”
I cup the heated weight of his balls, gently massaging them. My eyes fly to his face as he makes a rough sound like he’s in pain. A flush has spread over his cheekbones, his gray eyes dilated and darkened.
His hand slides into my hair, rubbing my scalp and sending tingles of awareness through every nerve ending. I moan and press my thighs together on the throb of arousal. His fingertips swirl over my stomach and down into the triangle of curls between my legs.
“Gonna make you tremble and beg,” he promises roughly.
“I’m the daughter of a soon-to-be-ex-mafia boss. I don’t beg,” I protest.
His dark head bends over my breast, his breath like steam against my sensitive skin. After catching the budded peak with his lips, he rakes his tongue over it and captures it gently with his teeth.
“Or if I do,” I add, squirming beneath him, “it’ll be more like a request.”
His laugh rumbles against my flesh, sending a spray of goosebumps over my skin.
He slides lower down my body, his mouth browsing in lazy paths, brushing, tugging, licking, tormenting.
Mindful of my injured thigh, he presses my legs apart and settles his shoulders between them. Every hair on my body lifts as his warm breath teases my stomach, his tongue touching the delicate rim of my belly button and tracing around it. Desire tightens my insides and coils my muscles until I draw my uninjured leg up to frame his shoulder. I gasp as he licks inside my navel in a hot, silky wriggle. His tongue swirls and stabs softly, making me squirm.
“Keep still, Hollyberry,” he orders, a trace of amusement thickening his voice.
But as his tongue flickers again, my body twists at the ticklish sensation.
Helplessly, I lift my hips to encourage his mouth where I need it most. But he makes me wait, his tongue dancing and tormenting without mercy, never quite touching the little peak that aches to be caressed.
“Jack,” I whimper, “I need more.”
He nips my inner thigh. “I’ve got you, baby girl.”
I stiffen as he finally parts the lips of my sex with a wet upward stroke of his tongue. “Oh, God. So good…”
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” Jack grunts, all his focus centered between my thighs, his restless tongue swirling through my folds as if he can’t decide where to settle.
He nibbles lightly on my swollen outer lips, tugging softly. I struggle to breathe, my hands clutching his dark head as his insistent exploration continues.
He finds the entrance of my body with teasing wet strokes, the brush of his beard prickly against my tender skin. A moan resonates in my throat as his tongue soothes the temporary irritation. He’s dismantling my self-control, seducing me into a mindless version of myself.
The length of his tongue slips inside me. Spearing me. Setting me on fire. Each time it thrusts in and out, a shot of pleasure travels up my spine. My inner muscles contract in a helpless rhythm, trying to catch and hold the slick intrusion.
I shiver as his hot breath huffs against the tender skin of my thighs, and his tongue grazes my sensitive peak. A sigh sticks in my throat as I melt like butter, every stroke of his tongue sending a delicious curl of sensation through my belly. It grows stronger as he licks at my throbbing clit, and the pleasure building inside me searches for release.
He builds the tension slowly, relentlessly, while sensation washes over me until I’m shaking. The muscles of his arms and chest pressed against my bare leg keep me open, anchoring me. Sweat breaks on the surface of my skin. My breath exhales in broken cries as his finger enters me… No, two fingers…
Jack slides them deeper every time my flesh pulses and relaxes. I’m still new to this, so it’s a little uncomfortable, especially as his knuckles gently stretch my tight muscles. Finally, he suctions his mouth over my stiff bud, his tongue flicking softly, quickly… and then there’s only pleasure. I strain and pant, my hips riding upward on a flare of heat, my body clamping on his invading fingers. Again. Again. Each contraction is stronger than the last.
His tongue continues to swirl and circle my clit, driving me higher, higher.
“Jack, I’m close,” I pant as my nipples bead and pleasure coalesces in my core.
“Give it to me, Hollyberry,” he growls, renewing his efforts.
“Oh… I…” My orgasm floods me, shuddering through me in waves until I’m limp and panting.
His fingers withdraw, leaving my channel to pulse on emptiness. I make an inarticulate sound, reaching for him, and he gathers me against his chest, murmuring how much I please him, how much he wants me.
“Stay relaxed,” he whispers as he settles his hips in the cradle of my thighs.
“No choice,” I mumble. “I think my bones have liquified.”
His hand shapes over my pussy, stroking the quivering wetness. “My beautiful Hollyberry. Gonna come inside you now.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, please. Ivy is ready for Beanstalk.”
His husky laugh caresses my ears as he stares down at me, his strong body shaking a little. “I love you, Holly.”
My heart almost explodes with happiness. “I love you, Jack. I’ve loved you for two years. And I’ll love you for the next sixty.”
His forehead drops to mine. “Fuck, Holly. I can’t wait,” he says hoarsely.
I reach for him with a moan. The head of his shaft, the hard pressure I crave, enters me, stretching my wet flesh. Lifting my uninjured leg, he hitches it higher on his hip, spreading the lips of my sex against his invading cock.
Shaking with excitement, I run my hands over his naked body, loving the flexing strength of him over me, inside me, working deeper.
His hips rock and circle, his thickness caressing different places within me. He pushes deep in long strokes. It’s divine, each impact creating more tension, more pleasure, until nothing exists except the steady thrusting between my thighs.
He pulls out and thrusts deep, and I wince as my thigh twinges.
“Leg hurting?” he rasps, stilling his movements.
Of course, Jack notices. It’s one of the things I love about him, how he always puts my comfort first.
I nod. “A little. But?—”
Before I can finish, he coaxes me to my hands and knees. “This will be better. You can brace your weight on your hands.”
His big body is a sturdy frame around mine as the head of his cock centers against my opening again, thick and hard, easing forward by millimeters.
“Oh, God.” I gasp. “You feel so much bigger this way.”
“Easy,” he whispers. “Try to open for me.”
The pressure fills me with a slow, ruthless ache. Gently, repeatedly, he rocks his hips forward, easing deeper through the tight clasp of my inner muscles.
He presses forward an inch and holds, his clever fingers playing with the soft lips of my pussy. Moaning with frustrated need, I try to move closer to those tantalizing fingers, chasing every light caress.
Jack’s breath is a harsh pant at my ear as he surges forward, stretching and filling me to the hilt. His breath catches as I squeeze around him, a low, velvety growl humming in his throat as he pulls out and thrusts all the way home again.
“You good?” he asks huskily, checking in with me. “Not too hard?”
“No… no… just like that…”
“Fuck. Love the way you tighten on me… every time I go in.”
“More…please…” I whimper as he thrusts deeper.
His hands move to my front, cupping my hanging breasts, pinching and tweaking my nipples, teasing them into hard points. All the while, he thrusts straight into the core of my body in deep plunges.
It's primitive, being taken like this. Like I shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. My face is hot, my insides clenching with desire. His teeth clamp onto the muscle between my neck and shoulder in a love bite. His fingers massage my swollen clit, somehow knowing the exact pressure and rhythm I need.
“Jack!”
I shudder hard, my body squeezing powerfully around his as I climax. I bury my face in the pillow to stifle my sharp cries, lost in the pulsing intensity of heated bliss. My orgasm triggers his release. He pushes deep and holds with a guttural groan as he spills inside me.
We relax together slowly, still joined as the deep twitches and aftershocks of pleasure slowly fade.
Eventually, Jack eases us onto our sides, tugging me against him. I sigh and purr like a contented cat as his hands coast over my tired limbs.
“I think I begged near the end,” I admit.
Jack presses a soft laugh against the side of my throat and kisses my flushed skin. “Pretty sure that was me.”
The oven timer beeps, cutting through our quiet moment, and I laugh. “Dinner’s ready.”