Chapter 18 Prop Closet of the Damned #2
“I’m your Big Bad Everything, Holly,” he growled, curling a massive hand around her throat to claim her before he walked her backwards until her ass hit the nearest wall. “And don’t you fucking forget it.”
And then he stooped, sucking her Lycra-covered nipple into his mouth like a punishment right as his other hand slid over her mouth to silence the cry he dragged out of her. Her muffled moan filled the space as his reward, already undone and he’d barely even touched her.
Jesus, how embarrassing? But not so embarrassing that she was gonna get him to stop.
He worshipped one peaked nipple and then the other, sucking and rolling them between his lips.
And then he laughed against her breast, right before he pushed her against the wall with his full fucking weight and kissed her, hard, as though he could erase every bad choice she’d ever made with the friction of their tongues until he was the only thing left.
She moaned into his mouth and gave a little jump, hooking her knees around his hips.
Nate immediately understood the assignment, hands grabbing her thighs to hoist her, fingers digging in just shy of bruising.
A few seconds later he had one deliciously inked arm caging her in against the wall, the other hand cupping her ass for support.
“If you don’t stop me, I’m going to fucking ruin you,” he promised, pressing his forehead into that swoony space just behind her ear. “You’ve got three seconds, Holly, or I swear—”
She leaned in, cutting him off by biting his neck like a feral kitten sick of being teased with its favorite toy. A groan tore through him and his hips bucked into her involuntarily as he lined the thick, heavy length of his cock up along the length of her pussy.
“Maybe I’ll ruin you,” she growled, staying close to his neck and flicking her tongue across the red mark she’d just left in a way that made him shiver. “You ever think about that, Brick?”
He clenched his jaw as if trying to stop himself from bursting through four layers of clothing with the power of his cock alone just so he could shut her up.
“You know my team nickname?” he asked hoarsely.
“I know a lot of things,” she told him, smirking.
He raised a brow. “Like?”
“Like how to make a cocksure little show pony like you come in his fucking pants,” she whispered filthily, and before he could so much as blink she rolled her hips. She dragged herself up his thick ridge, slow and mean, with her breath hot on his ear as she taunted him.
“Think you got game, Nate?” Her voice was velvet wrapped around a snarl, before she flicked her tongue at his earlobe and made him growl deep in his throat.
“Look at you. One little grind away from begging.” She smirked, doing it again. Harder this time, hips circling like she was reminding him about the obscene way she’d choreographed their Rumba. “Just one more, and I bet I can make you nut so hard you forget your own fucking name.”
Nate’s breath hitched so sharp and ragged that Holly thought he might break then and there.
She smirked to think her words had punctured straight through his impossible swagger and sliced into something raw.
His hips stuttered beneath her like he couldn’t decide whether to run or fuck, and God, the way he looked at her like she was made of fire and he’d forgotten how to stop getting burned.
His hands tightened on her ass, fingers digging in as if maybe if he held her hard enough, he could anchor himself.
But she saw his wide, frantic eyes, his clenched jaw, the way his chest was rising like he was seconds from losing every ounce of control.
And the best part? He still hadn’t said a word.
Because she had taken it from him. His composure.
His restraint. His fucking mind. And she wasn’t even close to being done yet.
She rolled her hips again, slow and brutal, dragging her clothed pussy up the thick line of him like she was sharpening a blade on it. Nate choked on a moan, his head thunking back against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Good. Let him fall apart. Let him fucking beg.
She braced her hands on his chest, nails digging into the hard muscle like she owned it, and leaned in close enough to bite the corner of his mouth.
“What’s wrong, superstar?” she whispered, voice pure venomous velvet. “Can’t handle a little pressure?” Another grind. More friction. His whole body jerked. “You skate like a god, but we both know you like being used like this, don’t we?”
Holly grinned, slow and sharp, dragging her tongue over her bottom lip like she was tasting the victory before she finished destroying him. “You gonna come for me now, Nate?”
The echo of the words he’d used on her against the studio mirror called up his release.
His whole body snapped tight beneath her, every muscle seizing as if she’d short-circuited the system.
His fingers dug into her hips, bruising and helpless, and then…
Holy fuck, the sound he made. A raw, broken moan tore out of him, loud and filthy and so fucking good she nearly came on the spot.
“You fucking own me,” he gasped, voice cracked and reverent. “Don’t leave me hanging like you did the other day—take it—fuck, take all of it—”
He tried so hard to hold out. She felt it in the way his breath hitched and in the frantic twitch of his thighs, but it was no use.
Her name was a savage growl on his tongue as he jerked against her, grinding through his orgasm, hips thrusting as he spilled in his pants like the sweetest, dirtiest kind of surrender.
And then she kissed him slowly like she had all day, tongue dipping past his lips to savor him before she pulled away with a wicked smile against his lips.
Holly didn’t stop moving. Not when she felt the wet heat of him spreading against her, or when his breath hitched like a prayer gone wrong.
Instead, she chased her own pleasure, using him as her fucking tool.
She rocked against him harder, rougher, grinding her soaked panties over the thick, pulsing line of his cock like she wanted to cover herself in the mess he’d made.
And he let her, his arctic gaze glassy, jaw slack.
Every single muscle he had trembling as he just watched her ride him like he actually belonged to her.
“Jesusfuck,” she gasped, jerking mid-grind as the pressure crested. He was still throbbing beneath her, spent and panting, and the filthy wet slide of it—of his release pressed against her through the thin barrier of her underwear—sent her over the edge.
Her orgasm ripped through her like a live wire.
She clamped down around nothing, shuddering hard as she came all over him, moaning into the crook of his neck as her whole body bucked against the ruin of his.
She ground through it like she was claiming the moment, like she’d branded him with her slick and her name.
By the time she stilled, trembling and breathless, his hands were still on her hips, barely holding on.
And she grinned, slow and cruel, because she knew he’d never recover from this.
She wasn’t sure she’d recover either, but that was a problem for Future Holly.
Present Holly was too busy respawning in third person.
Her fingers curled into his hair, nails grazing scalp, just enough to ground herself.
His breath was hot against her cheek, hands spread over her thighs like a benediction and a dare.
She pressed her forehead to his, and the world stilled.
Her heart a war drum in her chest. Nerves screaming.
Skin lit up like someone had dragged a match down her spine.
And then, fuck. She felt that once-familiar ache gnawing at the edges of her loneliness.
Worming its way under that thick skin of hers, threatening to leave tracks she’d spent her whole life trying to smooth over since the last time.
That tiny, naive part of her that wanted to be wanted like this when there weren’t cameras. When there weren’t strings.
Words caught in her throat like a glitching loading screen.
“Nate, I—” She didn’t even know what was about to come out. I want you? I think I’m fucked? Please don’t let this be nothing? But the universe didn’t give her the chance.
The doorknob of the tiny prop room rattled, and her soul straight-up evacuated her body.
Emotional walls slammed up like a bank vault under siege.
Shields engaged. Heart? Offline. Holly froze, all that fire of hers paused in place, body locking up like someone had hit the kill switch.
If survival was a sport, Holly had just taken gold.
“Hello?” a voice called. Young. Intern. “Someone left a coffee tray out here. Hello?”
Nate’s hands were still locked under her ass like he hadn’t realized gravity existed, his chest rising and falling like he’d just been benched after overtime.
He was staring at her wide-eyed and reverent, and it made something inside her reel.
Like she’d just pressed a button she didn’t know existed and accidentally launched a missile.
Reality slammed back into her like a truck.
Because that? That wasn’t the way a man looked at a woman he was just fucking.
Whatever this was, it had teeth now, and she was already bleeding.
The moment the truth clicked into place, panic bloomed like a fire alarm behind her ribs. Nope. Absolutely not. Abort mission.
Pull the lever, Kronk.
The doorknob stilled, but the air closed in, drawn taut between them like wire until Holly couldn’t stand it any longer.
She shifted carefully, climbing down from the edge of something dangerous.
Her hands braced against his shoulders and she eased herself back to the ground inch by aching inch.
She hated how his grip lingered, tightening for a second as though he knew exactly what was slipping through his fingers.
They’d stumbled into that tiny closet as an act of rebellion.
A little feral, a little horny, and a whole lot fuck this show, fuck that shirt, and fuck you.
But she hadn’t expected to walk out of it feeling…
haunted. Like she’d touched something too hot to hold and now it was burned into her fingerprints.
This wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was supposed to be stress relief, hate sex, enemies-to-benefits showmance.
Not... this.
Not him.
They adjusted their clothes in silence and avoided eye contact as if the act alone might detonate something.
Holly smoothed her hair into something less just got dry-humped against a supply rack, while Nate tugged at the hem of his shirt like it owed him an apology.
The hallway beyond was mercifully empty, but the vibe between them wasn’t.
It rang loud and breathless, filled with all the words neither of them dared say.
When he eventually glanced her way like she was still the center of his whole goddamn universe, Holly had to walk faster. She placed herself two steps ahead of him, so he couldn’t see the rising oh-fuck-no behind her carefully curated calm.