Chapter 27
TRULY PRICELESS (CLEO)
Istill don’t know how we make it back to the condo in one piece.
I can barely stop kissing Holden—and every time I think he’ll break away, tell me he’s changed his mind, ask me to cool it, whatever, he surprises me.
He just pulls me closer and kisses me more deeply, whenever he’s not pressing my head protectively under his chin.
God.
I swear we’re like high school kids in the Uber ride the whole way back. The driver must be ready to gag, but I don’t care.
Back at the condo, Holden carries me out of the car, never letting my feet touch the ground. Full caveman mode, and I love it.
“Fucking boner,” he mutters against my neck as he stumbles in the hall. “You’ve had me hard as diamond since we left the precinct station.”
I giggle, especially when an elderly couple passing by do a double take.
It just bubbles out of me, wild and free, and Holden grins.
I’m not the only one smiling with a ten-ton weight pulled off my shoulders. He’s wearing an expression I’ve rarely seen.
Tender and sweet and so full of good humor.
When we first met, I thought he had a chronic disease that made smiling impossible. The grumpiest man alive.
Now, I know so much better.
The instant we’re through the door of our unit, I slide down his torso so I’m perched right against his erection. He groans, squeezing my ass with both hands.
“You’re still a liability, Miss Blackthorn.”
“Shut up and break me,” I whisper.
We only pause to lock the door, then we’re kissing each other stupid, desperate hands tangled in hair.
He pins me against the wall and slams his hips into mine.
I gasp.
I’m already reaching to undo my bra.
I want him inside me right now.
“I missed you so much,” I tell him breathlessly.
“Fuck, Clee.” His eyes are amber, lit by lust. “I missed you to hell and back. You’re all I can fucking think about. Even when we had a million other problems, you were always front and center. You made me a regretful idiot, and I’m not sorry.”
No, not now. Later, later.
I bring his face back to mine, relishing his fingers tangling my hair in his fist.
Kiss me some more. We’ll have time for hard discussions after.
He swings me around and brings me to the kitchen table. The one we ate breakfast at this morning.
There, he sits me down and rips my blouse off.
“Those magnificent tits,” he growls. “Never thought I’d see them again.”
“I’ll make a poet out of you yet,” I tease.
His dark gaze deepens, and both hands squeeze my breasts possessively.
“Joke all you like. I’m marking you all over.”
I shudder at his promise.
My legs open automatically, an invitation he takes, hauling my pants and panties off in one quick lift. Then his hand shifts between my legs, fingers pushing where I need him, and I arch into his touch.
He pushes my shoulder, easing me back against the cold lacquered wood.
“Good girl,” he whispers, removing his belt. “Stay.”
Like I could ever do anything else.
And when he strips his shirt off over his head, revealing miles of muscles that torment me so beautifully, my mouth goes dry.
He says he missed me, but he doesn’t even know.
He can’t fathom how awful, how deprived I felt after our little breakup.
I missed his contrast more than my next breath. This human bear, capable of such violence, feels so gentle when he touches me.
Gentle when I need him to be.
But not today.
Not when it feels like forever and way too long.
“Holden,” I whimper.
His eyes capture mine as he pushes one finger inside me, then the next.
Meanwhile, he pulls his cock out, stroking it full and pulsing with one hand.
“Punishment. You’ve earned it for teasing me the whole way here,” he rumbles, his hand gripping his throbbing length, brandishing it like the weapon it is.
I eye it eagerly, wanting to taste him, wanting him to take what he wants and pound me to dust.
More than anything, I want his control.
I want his conquest.
“What will you do about it?” I whisper.
“I’m going to make you watch.” He leans down over me and sucks my nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling. “And I’m going to make you beg.”
That won’t take much. But I’ll give him the soft illusion of having to work for it.
“Won’t be fucking hard, Clee,” he says with a knowing glint in his eye.
Then he returns to my breast, sucking and pulling, making me insane.
A minute in and I’m a moaning, shifting mess.
My legs fall open, wider.
But his fingers work slowly, gradually, dragging me to madness.
Never enough to get me there, but enough to bring me closer, closer.
He explores the rest of my body with his tongue, stopping to bite and suck my skin, making good on his promise to mark his claim.
Every rough spot leaves a delicious heat.
And he leaves no inch of me untouched.
He fists my hair again, winding it tight around his fingers, offering his cock to my hand, which I gladly take.
“Oh fuck,” I say hoarsely.
“Look what you do to me. Total insanity.”
I shudder as I arch my back, trying to find some friction between us.
He steps closer, pressing his thigh against my pussy. I moan, rubbing myself against him helplessly.
“That’s right, woman,” he says. “How bad do you want this?”
His brown eyes glow gold like a harvest moon.
He presses the swollen, raging head of his cock against my folds, reclaiming what’s always been his.
I crane my head back, ready to sell my soul to have him inside me again, filling me.
I’m so wet, I can feel it against my thighs, this slick heat like ripe fruit.
“Clee, how bad? Fucking show me.” He removes his cock and bends down, nipping my inner thigh before licking me.
One long, slow, luxurious stroke.
Halfway to heaven, but not enough to keep me there.
His beard rubs my pussy, the friction adding tension in my lower belly.
Maybe if I keep quiet, keep still, he won’t know how close I’m getting, and he’ll throw me over the edge.
This is power play edged in desperation.
Sexual shadowboxing.
Animal urgency.
I know he won’t be able to resist me forever, and I don’t want to tell him no.
“Holden,” I whimper.
“Brat.” He drags me a little farther off the table and slaps my ass.
The sharpness stings until he rubs a slow circle, easing away the pain. I clench around his fingers, and he makes a rough noise of appreciation.
“Fucking divine,” he mutters.
I whimper in response, and he does it again.
He flips me over gently, so my stomach lays flat against the wood, ass up and prone. He groans as he slaps my other cheek, then squeezes them together.
I squirm, dizzy with denied pleasure.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Cleopatra?”
Holy hell.
Something about hearing my full name pushes me over the edge, and I give up my last shred of dignity.
“Please, Holden. Fuck me hard. Fuck me like I’m yours.”
He curses under his breath.
One of his hands grabs my hair again. He drags my head up, just enough to tease that line where pleasure and pain blurs, and then he sinks into me.
One hard push.
Glory.
My pussy stretches around him and for a second, I see stars.
We both sigh with sweet relief.
I brace against the table, legs up, pressing against his thighs.
This time, he doesn’t hold back.
We’ve been through too much and we’re ravenous.
There’s no more restraint, no more tenderness, just slapping skin sacrificed to raw human need.
Holden hammers me, gripping my hair, pinning my hands behind my back, his willing captive to use however he pleases.
Instinctively, I arch against him, thrust for thrust, rubbing my clit with clumsy fingers.
I was so close before.
It doesn’t take long before pleasure tears my mouth open and I fall apart, spasming around his punishing cock.
“That’s it, good girl,” he growls, releasing his hold on my hair so my head falls down. He runs that hand up my spine, even as he keeps up his relentless, controlled rhythm. “That’s my girl. Made for taking this cock.”
God!
His praise just makes me come harder.
It’s almost too much as he just keeps going, slamming me through my O, marking me from the inside out now.
He slows like he can sense it, that hand smoothing up and down my spine again.
“Easy,” he says. “Breathe for me.”
I do.
And I moan into my arm, vaguely aware that it’s a crowded building with crappy thin walls. But I’m also so overwhelmed I can’t bring myself to care.
He pulls out then, turns me over, and hooks my leg up to my shoulder. Holding my other knee wide, he captures my eyes as he pushes in again, stilling as the aftershocks shudder through my body.
“Fuck, Cleo,” he grates, desert dark eyes scanning over my face.
There are so many stars in his eyes tonight, all shining just for me.
He kisses my ankle, and I feel it everywhere, feel what he says without one word.
He’s bleeding with gratitude, and so am I.
We both needed this.
He bends over me, his arms effortlessly scooping under my back so he can kiss me. And there, holding me, cradling me, his hips start working, quickly gaining speed.
My eyes flutter shut.
Oh, this beautiful angle hits spots I didn’t know I had.
I’m going to come like mad, so fast it’s almost shameful.
His brute kiss speeds that up, and I tilt my head back, moaning at the way he’s hitting every button. Just right.
“That’s it,” he growls against my mouth. “Come all over my cock. I want to feel that pretty little pussy wring me dry.”
Going, going, gone!
I moan as my body convulses again.
Holden kisses me harder, greedily drinking my pleasure like wine.
It’s not long before he loses himself, too, pushing inside me with a final grunt.
He empties himself with a force that whites my vision.
Rapture. So good it’s blinding, and we’re both lost to that beautiful heat as his seed hurls inside me.
When I’m coming down again, I thread my fingers through his sweat-slicked hair, feeling his chest rise and fall as he half lies on me.
Drained in the best way. Like the man took a needle to my ballooning stress and popped it with one sexy strike.
Now we bask in the afterglow.