Chapter Five
Jamie
Marceline and Bubblegum were losing their minds at our feet as we kissed, wiggling and yipping for attention.
Holden just stepped over them, walking me backward toward the hallway without breaking the kiss.
His hands moved from my waist to my hip to the small of my back, and I couldn't think past the solid wall of his body pressing me into the wall.
“Dogs,” I managed against his mouth.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His breathing was ragged, pupils blown wide, dark eyes almost black in the dim entryway. “What?”
“They need—” Marceline was pawing at my leg, her whole body vibrating with the need for acknowledgment. “Give me two minutes. Let me get them settled.”
Holden stepped back. He dragged a hand through his hair, watching me with a hunger that made my knees weak.
“Bedroom's down the hall,” I said, pointing. “Go. Get comfortable. I'll be right there.”
He nodded once and headed down the hall while I turned to the girls.
“Hey, babies. I know. I see you.” I scratched behind their ears, my pulse still hammering. “You're such good girls, yes you are. But Daddy needs some alone time right now, okay?”
I filled their water bowls, gave them each a treat, and made sure they were settled on their beds in the living room. Marceline circled three times before flopping down with a dramatic sigh. Bubblegum was already curled up, watching me with those patient brown eyes.
“Don't judge me,” I told her, then I walked down the hall to my bedroom.
Holden stood by the window, silhouetted against the streetlight coming through the thin curtains. He'd taken off his jacket and boots but nothing else, like he wasn't sure how far he was allowed to go. When I stepped through the doorway, he turned, and the look on his face made my breath catch.
Want. Pure, undisguised want. And underneath it, something that looked almost like fear.
I crossed the room and walked straight into his arms.
He caught me like I belonged there, one big hand spanning my lower back, the other cupping the back of my head. I looked up and he bent down, and when our mouths met this time it was slower. Deeper. Like we had all night.
We did have all night.
“Hey,” I said against his lips. He looked nervous. “You okay?”
His jaw tightened with something that looked like embarrassment. “It's been a while.”
“How long?”
Holden swallowed hard and shook his head. “I don't—I'm not good at this. At letting people in.”
Oh. Oh, my heart. My gentle giant.
“That's okay.” I cradled his face in my hands, made him look at me. Really look. “We can go slow. We can stop whenever you want. I just want to make you feel good.”
Something cracked open in his expression. The guardedness he always wore, the careful distance—it slipped, just for a moment, and underneath I saw longing so raw it made my chest ache.
“Jamie.” My name in his mouth like a prayer. “I want—”
“Tell me.”
“You. I want you.”
“You got me.” I pulled him down and kissed him until we were both breathless.
Holden was careful at first. That was the thing I noticed as we undressed each other, the way his hands moved over my body with a kind of reverence that made my throat tight.
He tugged off my shirt like he was unwrapping something precious, then stopped to just look at me in the low light from the window.
His calloused fingers traced my collarbone, my chest, my torso.
“You're beautiful,” he said as we stood, shirtless.
“I'm average.”
“You're beautiful.” No room for argument. Just fact.
I reached for his flannel, worked the buttons free one by one.
He let me, standing still while I pushed the fabric off his shoulders and let it fall.
Underneath, he was everything I'd imagined and more.
Broad chest covered in dark hair, stomach flat and firm, wide shoulders that led to long arms that I wanted wrapped around me all day. Every day.
“You good, Big Guy?”
Holden let out a shaky breath. “I'm terrified.”
Not what I expected. “Of what?”
“Of wanting this too much.” His hands found my waist, thumbs sliding up to flick over my nipples. “Of fucking it up.”
“You won't.” I lifted my head and kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, the hollow of his throat. “I've got you.”
His whole body shuddered under my touch.
That's when I understood what I was dealing with.
This wasn't just nerves about a first time with someone new.
This was years of isolation, of keeping everyone at arm's length, of not letting anyone close enough to touch him.
The way he trembled when I ran my hands down his chest—that wasn't inexperience. That was starvation.
Touch-starved. The word surfaced and stuck.
This man, this huge, gruff, guarded man, was starving for contact. For tenderness. For someone to put their hands on him and mean it.
I was going to give him everything.
“Bed,” I said. “Now.”
He let me push him backward until his knees hit the mattress and he sat down hard. I climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs, and his hands came up to grip my hips like I might disappear if he let go.
“Let me take care of you,” I said. “Can you do that? Just let me?”
He nodded, eyes dark and desperate.
I started slow. Kissed his mouth, his jaw, the side of his neck. Found the spot below his ear that made him shiver and stayed there, licking and sucking until he groaned. His hands tightened on my hips, pulling me closer, and I could feel how hard he was through his jeans, pressing up against me.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Jamie—”
“I know.” I kissed my way down his chest, my tongue tracing the line of muscle, the scatter of dark hair. He watched me the whole time, like he couldn't believe this was happening, like he was afraid to blink and find it was a dream.
I slid off his lap and knelt between his legs.
His breath caught. His hands came up like he wanted to stop me, then fell back to the mattress, fingers curling into the sheets.
“You don't have to—”
“I want to.” I looked up at him, held his gaze. “I really, really want to.”
His cock was straining against his jeans, the outline of it thick and obvious. I pressed my palm against it and he made a sound like I'd punched him, hips jerking up into the contact.
“Easy.” I worked his belt open, popped the button, eased down the zipper. “Lift up.”
He lifted his hips and I tugged his jeans down, then his boxers, and—
Oh.
He was big. Proportional to the rest of him, which meant he was really fucking big. Long and thick, flushed dark with blood, already leaking at the tip. My mouth watered.
“You're huge,” I said, because I'd lost all brain-to-mouth filter.
His ears went red. “You don't have to—”
“Shut up.” I wrapped my hand around the base, felt him pulse in my grip. So fucking hot”I said I wanted to. I meant it.”
I leaned in and licked a stripe up the underside, base to tip, and Holden's head fell back with a groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest. He tasted clean, like soap and skin and something musky underneath that made me want more.
I wrapped my lips around the head and sucked.
“Fuck—” His hips bucked, and his hand flew to the back of my head, then jerked away like he'd been burned. “Sorry, I didn't mean—”
I pulled off just long enough to grab his wrist and put his hand back. “You can touch me. I want you to.”
His fingers threaded through my hair, tentative at first, then tightening when I took him deeper. I couldn't fit all of him—he was too big for that—but I took as much as I could, hollowing my cheeks, working my tongue along the underside while my hand stroked what my mouth couldn't reach.
“Jamie—” His voice cracked. “That's—fuck, that's so good—”
I hummed around him, and his whole body jerked. His fingers tightened in my hair, not pulling, just holding on. I looked up at him through my lashes, watched his face as pleasure took him apart. His jaw was clenched, his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed shut like he couldn't handle looking at me.
I pulled off with a wet sound. “Look at me.”
His eyes opened. Dark. Desperate.
“Watch me.” I licked the tip, tasting the salt of his precome, then took him back into my mouth. Deeper this time, until he hit the back of my throat and I had to close my eyes, blinking fast.
“Jesus Christ…” His hips stuttered, and I could feel him trying not to thrust, trying to hold back. “Jamie, I can't—I'm gonna—”
I pulled off, wrapped both hands around him, and stroked fast. “Then come. I want you to.”
“Not like this.” His hands found my shoulders, pulled me up. “I want…inside you. Please.”
That word again. Please. From this man who never asked for anything.
“Okay.” I kissed him, let him taste himself on my tongue. “Okay. I've got you.”
I stripped off my jeans and briefs while he kicked his pants the rest of the way off. Then I straddled his lap again, both of us naked now, nothing between us. His cock pressed against my ass and I rolled my hips, grinding against him, and the sound he made was almost pained.
“Nightstand,” I said. “Top drawer.”
He reached over, fumbled the drawer open, came back with lube and condoms. His hands were shaking.
I took the lube from him. “Let me.”
I slicked my own fingers first—he looked like he was barely holding on, and I wanted to make this good for him.
Wanted to give him something worth remembering.
I reached behind myself, worked one finger inside, then two.
Holden watched with dark eyes as I opened myself up, his cock twitching against his stomach every time I gasped.
“That's the hottest thing I've ever seen,” he said, low and rough.
“You want a turn?” I reached for his hand, dripped lube over his thick fingers. “Slow. You're big.”
He was careful. God, he was so careful. One finger first, thick enough that I felt the stretch immediately. He watched my face the whole time, reading every reaction, adjusting his angle when I gasped.
“Good?” he asked.
“So good. More,” I groaned, head rolling back.