Chapter 23 Hollis
Hollis
I’m not stupid enough to believe him, but the moment his lips touch mine, I stop caring.
I know better. This can’t and won’t change anything. But come on! Why can’t a girl fully give in for once? I’m tired of pretending there isn’t some strong magnetic pull between us, and I’m exhausted from fighting a battle that so clearly doesn’t need to be fought.
If he’s not worried about the possible fallout, why should I be?
Plus, who wants to worry about consequences when his mouth is just that good? This man’s talents aren’t solely limited to baseball, and I have first hand experience on just how skilled those fingers and lips are.
Long forgotten is the adorable camp setup with the fire and s’mores. Fletcher’s the only sweet treat I crave as his arms tighten their hold around me. His palm sinks lower, grazing my jean-covered ass, as my hand gets lost in his hair before giving it a light tug.
“Damn,” he chuckles into our kiss, not breaking the connection.
I, on the other hand, can’t keep this up and pull away.
“Up there.” I nod toward the tailgate.
He doesn’t hesitate. His hands sink lower toward my thighs and I jump, trusting him explicitly as he scoops me up effortlessly. I loop my arms around his shoulders and he turns, setting me gently on the bed of the truck.
Shifting backward, I finally get a moment to take in the set-up. The entire bed of the truck is littered with pillows and blankets, but it's him who pulls back my gaze as a shiver races through me.
He lifts himself up with ease, and it’s hard to ignore the devilish smirk lighting up his face. Maybe that look should scare me, but it’s the exact opposite. It only makes me want this even more. I’m finally ready for this—for him.
“Crawl to me,” I challenge.
He’s already on his hands and knees, so why not?
My demand doesn’t shake him, and like the good boy he is, he does exactly as told. His eyes lock with mine, his hands pressing into the soft blankets, his movements slow and steady with a look that’s absolutely primal.
It’s almost too slow. By the time he’s only inches away, my breathing has completely stopped in anticipation.
I’ve never been this ready as I wait for him to pounce.
My entire body aches for him to press my back into the pillows, to finally give in and give us both what we so clearly and desperately crave, but instead, he stops.
He hovers, so close his warm breath caresses my skin—and still—despite the fire raging between us, he doesn’t give in.
Instead, his hand trails slowly down my thigh, heat following in its wake.
His fingertips drag across the denim, following the line of my leg until he reaches the top of my white, sparkly cowboy boot.
He leans back on his heels, his fingers wrapping around the worn leather.
With a gentle tug, the boot slips free. He peels off my sock next, then repeats the motion with my other foot.
Rather than reaching for another piece of clothing to discard, his hands linger on my bare foot, his thumbs pressing into the soft arch.
My head falls back, eyes closing as a soft moan slips free. Am I really about to come this undone over a simple foot massage?
“How does that feel?” he asks, his voice gravely and low.
“Amazing,” I sigh, his fingers still working slow, perfect circles. “But you know, when we climbed up here, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“What can I say? I enjoy taking care of you.”
“I can’t say I don’t appreciate it.” I sink even deeper into the pillows as my body truly relaxes for the first time in, well, a really long time. “But is this really how you want to spend the rest of our night?
“You mean getting intimately acquainted with every single inch of your body?” he asks, carefully setting my foot back down onto the blankets.
“Because yes. That’s exactly how I want to spend it,” he whispers, finally crawling so his body hovers over mine.
“Plus, we have all night. I’m not in any rush. ”
There may be the sounds of rushing water from the creek, the crackle of the fire, and the distant chirp of the cicadas, but it all fades into the background. The only thing I can truly hear is the wild pounding of my heart.
It’s almost too much to think about the weight of his words or consider how good they make me feel—so I don’t.
Instead, I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him down toward me.
Our lips meet, and everything feels right, only making me crave even more control.
In one smooth motion, I shift and guide him backward, flipping things around as I swing my leg over his until I’m on top, straddling him.
“Fuck, Holls. That was hot,” he tells me, his hands landing on my hips.
I could, and should relish in the way he’s staring at me with those adoring eyes, but my heart can’t handle it. So instead, I silence him with my lips.
Unlike him, I don’t go slow, and I don’t take my time as my hands frantically work at the buttons of his shirt. It may not be my smartest move, but the view is far too tempting as I pull back and take in the sight of his now bare chest, his plaid shirt hanging open.
“Really?” I ask, probably shattering the mood, but come on. How is this fair?
I’ve seen him shirtless before. Multiple times, actually. But there’s a huge difference between seeing him half-naked at practice, surrounded by his sweaty teammates, and seeing him half-naked here, with me in his lap and our bodies pressed together.
“What?” he asks, clearly amused as he glances down at himself. “You don’t like what you see?”
“Oh, hush.” I push softly on his chest as I guide him into a laying position. “You know I like it.”
“Then show me,” he demands, and I do.
My hands glide across the grooves of his muscles, all the way up until I reach his equally toned pecs.
His body may be firm, but I’m obsessed with the way his skin feels under mine, only making me need him even more.
My fingers sneak under the leftover fabric on both his arms, capturing the shirt as I yank it downward.
He thankfully lifts his body before I toss it aside.
Sinking down, I press my lips onto the skin of his chest, letting myself fully explore as I kiss, lick, and suck at his sun-kissed skin until I reach the top of his pants.
My hands reach down for his belt, and once it’s undone, I sit up, and give it a strong yank as he lifts his hips, the leather pulling free. It’s hard not to feel triumphant as I sit above him, still wearing his cowboy hat as I hold his belt high in the air.
Looks like I’m doing exactly as promised as I ride my cowboy.
It’s exactly why I thrust my hips down, letting my body press into something incredibly large and hard.
“Fuck,” he softly curses, and I moan at the exact same time. I knew my body needed him, but damn, I never realized how much until now.
I’m still fully dressed, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he’s staring up at me. “Come here, beautiful.”
As much as I enjoy being in charge, I don’t mind giving up a little control as he places a hand on my cheek and meets my lips with his.
We become a tangle of needy hands, his tongue sweeping against mine as I moan again into his mouth. Seeming to want us on a level playing field, his hand snakes between us as he works on the buttons of my shirt. Equally as needy, I wiggle my arms out the second he’s finished.
He tosses it to the side, and the cooling Texas air brushes against my practically bare chest, now left in only a lacy, red bra.
As much as I’d told myself to be good, I hadn’t been naive either.
I’d come prepared for this exact situation, wearing a matching bra and panties set.
Given the fire simmering in those chocolate brown eyes of his, it’s clear I made the right decision.
“Do you even know how perfect you look right now?” he asks, his face one of pure awe as his hands immediately get to work on the button and zipper of my jeans. “Sorry, but I need you to sit on my face right fucking now. I need to taste you again.”
“What?” I ask, my eyes widening. “But you did that for me the other day. Shouldn’t it be your turn?”
“Do you not understand how badly I crave you?” he asks, his hungry eyes finding mine.
“I’m never not going to want to taste that sweet pussy of yours,” he says, and the ache between my thighs intensifies.
“Plus, the other day was about helping you feel better, and I had to hold back. This time, I get to truly feast like I want to,” he says, his voice growing more husky.
I don’t fight him, not that I want to. I’m just as eager as he seems to be. I lift my hips and twist as he free me from my jeans.
“As pretty as these are, they have to go too,” he says, somewhat regretfully, linking his fingers through the sides of my panties before sliding them down as well. “Now. Sit on my fucking face, Hollis. Don’t make me say it again.”
My pussy clenches at the demand, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. I’m just about to follow his orders when I reach up to remove the hat, but he shakes his head.
“No, keep it on.”
I smile, and he leans back against the blankets.
I’ve never done this before, so as I crawl up and over him, I move self consciously while lining my pussy just above his face.
“Like this?”
“Just like that.” His hands skirt over the outer part of my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh before his tongue darts out. I gasp as it runs along my soaked core.
“Fuck you’re drenched for me, baby” he says, his hot breath against me only adding to the experience. “You taste so fucking good.”
“More,” I whimper.
Him calling me baby does things to me, as does the way he circles my clit with his tongue. I’m beyond needy, my body seemingly giving out, but thankfully I have the back truck window to lean on.
I’m a mess of loud pants and moans, especially when he wraps his lips around my bundle of nerves and sucks. He wasn't lying when he said he knows how to make a woman feel good, and I’m experiencing it all now as bolts of electricity course through me.
My entire body is humming, and every sweep of his tongue pulls me closer, bringing wave after wave of pleasure. My hips thrust toward his mouth, taking whatever he’s willing to give me.
Something builds inside me, and just when I’m sure this is the best it can get, I’m taken even higher. Even he can’t seem to get enough, his hands sliding from my thighs to my ass as he pulls me down, even closer.
My head falls back as a powerful orgasm rips through me. One that I can feel all the way from my head down to the tip of my toes, and I fully surrender myself to it and let out a loud, guttural cry. Fletcher continues to work me through it, coaxing out every last bit of pleasure.
My body finally relaxes, and I’m ready to collapse. Luckily, I remember that I’m practically sitting on him, and use my last bit of strength to lift my leg and slide down to lie next to him.
He pulls me close, and I curl into his side. “So, that good huh?” he asks, his voice playful, though I can tell he’s feeling pretty full of himself.
“Don’t get too cocky,” I warn, my voice still breathy.
“Why?” he asks, turning to face me while dragging his fingers slowly down my arm.
I try not to get distracted, especially as his fingers continue their trail from my shoulder, toward my collarbone, and down to my bra-covered chest.
That familiar ache forms all over again between my legs. God, how does he do this? How do I already need him again this badly?
“What if I like a man with a little humility?” I suggest, my eyes following his ghost-like touch as I press my thighs together to soothe the building pressure.
“I’m starting to suspect I just might know what you like and want more than you do. And you like it when I speak the truth, even when you pretend not to,” he states, his tone as cocky as ever, and given his most recent performance, I think he deserves to be.
“Maybe we should test that theory and see if you really do know what I want,” I whisper.
“You know, you shouldn’t say things you might regret...”
“Well, if you know me so well, you should also know I have no plans to regret anything that happens tonight. So come on, Fletch. Show me,” I push, and given the fire burning in those eyes of his, I have a feeling he’s going to do just that.