Chapter 30
My fingers slide inside my panties, two of them sliding easily into me, my clit already swollen and throbbing.
Circling it once, twice, my breath comes in sharp little gasps as I imagine his hands on me, his weight pinning me down, his cock thick and heavy against my stomach as he whispers every filthy promise into my ear.
Me
Fuck, you’re an asshole.
Satan’s Spawn
And you love it. Admit it.
You’re touching yourself right
now, aren’t you? Thinking
about how I stretched you
open, how you screamed
when I finally gave you what
you begged for.
I am. God, I am. My fingers move faster, my hips lifting off the bed as my fingers move in and out, my other hand squeezing my breast hard enough to bruise. The phone buzzes again.
Satan’s Spawn
Send me a picture. Let me see
that pretty pussy, all wet and
messy for me.
My breath hitches. I should say no. I should tell him to go to hell. But the idea of him seeing me like this—spread open, glistening, my fingers buried inside myself—makes me whimper.
Oh, for the love of God. I can’t believe I’m actually considering this. Not only considering, but I’m doing it.
Propping my phone up against the pillow, angling it just right, I hike my tank top up to expose my breasts, my nipples pink and stiff. I spread my thighs wide, my fingers still working their magic, and snap the shot before I can second-guess it.
My heart pounds as my thumb hovers over the send button.
Am I really going to send him a picture if me like this?
It’s a terrible idea, and I know it. I’ve never sent a nude, not even in high school.
I’ve seen too many horror stories of women whose nudes end up on the internet without their consent.
I do not want to be part of that statistic.
But here I am. About to do something I’ve never done for this man. Who the hell am I?
My eyes squeeze shut as a press send. The response is immediate. Not just a text, but a phone call.
Holland’s name flashes across the screen, and I answer on the first ring, my voice thick.
“You’re a fucking tease,” he growls, his voice rough. “Look at you. All pink and swollen, just begging for my cock.”
A moan escapes my lips. My fingers continue their movement. “Then come get it.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then…
“Open your door.”
My heart freezes its rapid beating, and my breath stutters. “What?”
“I’m outside your room, Lainey. Let me in before I kick the fucking thing down.”
Holy shit, he came to my room?
My phone clatters to the bed as I scramble up toward the door. I don’t even bother fixing my shirt or anything.
When I reach the door, I hesitate for a moment before taking a deep breath and slowly opening the door to reveal Holland standing there, his dark eyes burning as they rake over me, lingering on the way my panties are still twisted to the side, my fingers glistening.
He's already hard, the outline of his cock straining against his jeans, his jaw tight with restraint.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s on me.
His mouth crashes into mine, his tongue forcing its way past my lips, tasting like mint and sin.
I gasp into the kiss, my hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he backs me into the room, his body pressing mine against the wall.
His hands are everywhere, palming my breasts, pinching my nipples through the thin fabric, then sliding down to grip my thighs, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
“You’re a fucking menace,” he growls against my lips, his hips grinding against mine, the thick ridge of his cock rubbing against my stomach. “Sending me pictures like that. You trying to kill me?”
“You asked for it,” I say breathily. His grin is almost intimidating.
“You’re right, I did,” Holland groans, his teeth sinking into my bottom lip before he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.
He lifts me, his hands under my ass, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me to the bed, tossing me down onto the mattress. I bounce once, my breath leaving me in a rush as he follows me down, his body covering mine, his weight delicious and heavy.
Tugging at his shirt, I whine, “take this off, now.”
Holland smirks, but he doesn’t argue. He strips his shirt over his head, his muscles flexing with the movement, then pops the button on his jeans, shoving them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, the tip already wet, and I swear my mouth waters.
“Fuck,” I breathe, reaching for him.
He bats my hand away, his eyes dark with promise. “Not yet.”
His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, yanking them down my legs before tossing them aside. Then his hands are on my thighs, spreading me wide, his breath hot against my skin as he leans in.
“I am gonna eat this pretty pussy until you’re sobbing, baby. Then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t walk straight for a week.”
“Please, God,” I moan as my back arches off the bed. His tongue drags over me, slow and deliberate, before circling my clit. My hands fly to his hair, my hips jerking up as pleasure lances through me.
“Holland, fuck—”
He chuckles against me, the vibration making me whimper, before his mouth seals over me, his tongue working in deep, relentless strokes. Two fingers press inside me, curling just right, making me cry out, my thighs trembling around his head.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to speak. “Take it, baby. You’re mine, aren’t you? This tight little cunt is all mine.”
“Yes—god, yes—” I can’t even believe the words coming out of this man right now.
His fingers crook harder, his thumb pressing against my clit, and I fucking shatter, my orgasm crashing over me in waves, my nails raking down his back as I ride his face, my moans filling the room.
Holland doesn’t give me time to recover. He crawls up my body, his cock dragging through my wetness, before notching at my entrance.
“You ready for me, baby?” he growls, his voice rough with obvious restraint.
I meet his gaze, my lips parted and chest heaving. “Fuck me.”
And then he’s inside me in one thick, relentless thrust that stretches me open, filling me so completely I swear I see stars.
We both groan, Holland’s forehead dropping to mine as he bottoms out, his breath ragged.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he gasps, his hips already rolling, each thrust deep and measured, like he’s savoring the way my body clenches around him. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his ass as I pulled him deeper, my nails scoring down his back.
“Holland,” I say breathlessly, my voice a broken whine. “Fuck me harder.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
His pace turns brutal, his cock pounding into me with a force that has the bed creaking, the headboard slamming against the wall. Every thrust hits that spot inside me that makes me see white, my moans turning to sobs as pleasure coils tight in my belly, my body winding tighter and tighter.
“Come for me,” Holland growls, his hand slipping between my legs to rub my clit in rough, demanding circles. “Now, Lainey. Come on my cock like a good girl.”
And I do.
My second orgasm rips through me, my back bowing off the bed as I scream out, my pussy clamping down around him so tight Holland groans, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own release.
“Fuck. Fuck, baby-”
He buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he comes, filling me in hot, thick spurts, his breath ragged against my neck.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our combined panting, the slick, obscene noises of our bodies still moving together in slow, lazy rolls.
Holland’s lips find mine, his kiss softer now, almost tender, before he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.
His expression is unreadable. Something dark and hungry lurks beneath the surface, but also something else. Something that makes my chest tighten. Then he rolls off me, his cock slipping free, and the moment shatters.
The air between us shifts, thick with the weight of what just happened and what might come next. Holland lies on his back, one arm slung over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.
Propping myself up on one elbow, my fingers trace idle patterns over his stomach, my mind racing.
Was this just another night? Another stolen moment before we go back to pretending we’re nothing? Or is it the start of something more?
Holland’s hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with mine before he brings my knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss to my skin.
The problem with pretending is it never lasts. You can only pretend for so long, and eventually, the truth comes out. And the truth is, I am falling for the boy next door. I am falling for my best friend’s brother. I am falling… for Holland Monroe.