Maryanne #2
Hollis was a man who knew what to do with a woman.
He didn’t need or want some girl who wasn’t sure of what she was doing.
My eyes skated over his body, the broadness of his shoulders, the thickness of his neck, and the biceps that stood out under his sleeveless tank, some old shirt he’d cut the sleeves off he looked really good in.
Oh yeah, Hollis would definitely know what to do with a woman.
“You’re twenty-five.” We’d talked over pizza, sharing things like our age and our likes and dislikes. “How the hell is that possible?” His eyes followed my tongue as they swiped over my lips. “You have to be kidding me.”
“I’m not. I just… it just never happened.” I shrugged. Both his hands cupped my face, and I was almost positive he was trembling.
“The men who have come into your life are fucking idiots. One look at you, and I knew.”
“Knew what?” I asked, swallowing hard.
“That you’d be mine,” he said like he was decreeing some kind of law.
“You can’t mean that. There’s no way…”
“I do, little flower.”
“But… I mean… we just met.”
“I mean it, Maryanne,” he rasped. “Fuck.” His eyes shut tightly as he rested his forehead against mine. “We do this, we need rules. You can’t be the sweetheart you are and just give me what you think I want.”
“Hollis,” I tried to argue, but I knew by the way he looked at me that he wasn’t going to let me.
“If at any point we do anything that you’re not comfortable with, if you want to stop or take a moment, all you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will.” His words felt like a balm on my skin.
“What if I don’t want you to stop?” I taunted.
“Maryanne.”
“I thought I was your little flower.” I licked my lower lip. Heat cursed all around my body and settled low in my belly.
“Oh, baby, you are. My perfect little flower. And I’m the one who’s going to pluck you right up.”
“Hollis.” He shifted us, and suddenly, I was straddling him, my thighs over his, the hard ridge of his cock pressed just right against my aching pussy, exactly where I needed him.
“Oh god.” A little moan escaped from me.
“Not god, little flower. Daddy. That’s what you call me when we play.”
“Hollis, is this…” I exhaled roughly, trying to get the words to slip past my lips. Not that I couldn’t because I was ashamed or embarrassed but because I was too worked up.
“Something I like?” He took the words from my mouth, and I nodded, holding on to his shoulders, unable to sit still. He gripped my thighs so I wouldn’t keep squirming, distracting him from whatever these rules were he needed to set up.
“Not really. I like having control, but with you… you bring this side out of me.”
“Oh…” My chest rose and fell as he stared at me. I could have easily let the shyness take over, hopped off his lap, and I knew Hollis would have let me. But I didn’t.
I stood up, and his amber eyes followed my every movement.
My hands moved beneath the soft cotton of the shirt he had let me borrow to the waistband of the track pants I was wearing and pushed them down. With how big they were, gravity did its job, and they pooled at my feet. I stepped out of them without breaking eye contact with Hollis.
“Maryanne.” He gripped the armrest with a white-knuckled grip. There was something almost addicting in the knowledge he was holding on by a thin thread and it was about to snap. I had that kind of power over him, and it made me feel… good.
Feminine.
Powerful.
Almost like a goddess instead of a shy, awkward twenty-five-year-old virgin stripper.
The tips of my fingers reached for the hem of the soft cotton shirt.
I took a deep breath before I pulled it up and over my head.
I had stood and danced in front of strange men and some women in less than I was wearing now.
And never, not even close, had I felt as seen and beautiful and adored yet vulnerable all at once like I did under Hollis’ gaze.
“Fuck,” he cursed.
“I want you,” I said, proud of the steadiness in my voice. “I won’t tell you to stop because I want everything and anything you want to give me.”
“Baby.” He licked his lips as his eyes skimmed up and down my body like he couldn’t seem to help himself no matter how hard he tried. That alone was enough to make me even braver and bolder. I reached behind me and undid my bra, letting the material pool with his clothes.
“I promise.”
“Shit.” His hands balled into tight fists at his sides. “You haven’t even been kissed yet, little flower. How the hell am I supposed to keep from fucking you into next Tuesday?”
“Maybe you’re not supposed to.” I wasn’t sure how the hell I managed to push the words out, but the sexy little growl he made under his breath had me pressing my thighs together for relief. “I just…”
“What, baby girl? What do you want?” He stood to his feet with his hands still clenched, like he was trying to keep them to himself.
He was on edge, ready to snap and pounce on me.
I’d done this.
Just by standing topless in front of him.
“I want you, Daddy.”
“We don’t have to do the whole daddy—“
“I want it. It fits. With you. With me.” I licked my lips.
“I don’t have anything to base it off, but it feels right.
Feels like us.” In the blink of an eye, Hollis closed the space between us and his hand tangled with the hair at the back of my head and pulled my head back, forcing me to arch my beck, but not in a way that hurt.
He was gentle in his dominance.
Gentle and tender for me.
“I kiss you, I taste any part of your body, Maryanne, that’s it. It’s over. You’re mine and I’m yours. No going back. There is no chance this can go any other way.”
A small part of me wanted to argue with him.
Tell him there was no possible way he could possibly know that the way he made it sound. Like a done deal. Yet the other part of me, the one in control and listening, soaking in every moment, knew what I was going to say.
I knew the truth.
“I’m already yours,” I answered. My eyes had just shut when his lips touched mine and my world shifted on its axis, and I knew life would never be the same again.