Sixteen
SIXTEEN
Noble
I laid Holland’s beautiful body across my bed and vowed to take my time. She deserved to be savored. I just hoped I could last. My body craved her badly, and my erection was a brick threatening to burst a hole through the front of my tuxedo pants.
I couldn’t kiss her sweet, swollen lips enough. Holland explored my chest through my tux. I ripped the jacket off and pulled at the buttons on my shirt to feel her touch unfiltered. Tossing the clothes aside, I kissed her again, breathing in the floral essence of her.
Pulling her bun loose, I ran my fingers through her fluffy hair, then traced her nose and lips, working my way down to the center of her chest. I palmed the fullness of her breasts through the dress.
“Take it off,” she said through spurts of breath.
Reaching around her back, I unzipped her gown and then pulled it down in the front, relishing in the bounce of her bountiful breasts. Shimmying the dress past her sexy hips, I tossed that and her undergarments to the floor.
I paused to admire her flawless amber skin, running my fingers along the length of her body, and dipping them into the inferno between her legs. I didn’t think I could get harder, but I managed it. I was a rock. Holland removed my belt, slid her fingers inside my pants and worked them down until they fell to the floor. I stepped out of them, kicking them aside. I reached into my nightstand drawer, grabbed a condom, and handed it to her.
As Holland began to open the package, I covered her hand with mine. “Wait,” I said.
I needed to taste her first. I blazed a hot trail of kisses from her neck to her toes and everywhere in between. Holland squirmed and moaned when I buried my face between her legs and sucked until she drove her fists into the sheets.
“Now,” I whispered.
Holland wrapped her soft hands around my erection and tugged gently before covering it with the condom. “Mm.”
I didn’t want her to let go and at the same time, I couldn’t wait to feel her. The anticipation was dizzying. Without breaking our kiss, I climbed over Holland and entered her soft center. Grunting, I was blindsided by how immediate, intense, and nearly crippling the pleasure was. Every molecule in my body was abuzz. There was no way I was going to last. I focused on giving Holland as much pleasure as possible before exploding.
Holland’s moans were a symphony of decadent delight, making it hard to control myself. She moved her hips with me, meeting every stroke, thrust for thrust. I was coming undone, unraveling, layer by layer, into a pool of euphoria.
Holland cried out, and her soft walls tightened repeatedly, sucking me in with each greedy spasm. I tried to hold in my groan. Tried to maintain steady strokes. Tried not to lose myself completely as I watched her orgasm beautifully contort her body, claim her senses, and then release her. I failed. The warm flow of Holland’s juices washed over me, sending me over the edge.
I pushed into Holland one last time. A groan rose from my gut. Tiny explosions rippled through me, quickly building into one massive eruption. I howled as life spilled from me, emptying me out physically and figuratively in a way I’d never experienced with any other woman.
I rolled over and pulled Holland to me. She rested her head in the crook of my arm. Our chests heaved. Sweat trickled in every crevice. We lay there, hugging, talking, caressing, until night yielded its velvety starlit sky to dawn. Then we slept, cradled in one another’s arms.
* * *
I blinked against the natural light bathing the room, shielding my eyes from the sun, which was on full blast. I sat straight up in the bed, discombobulated—unaware of time and space, yet feeling sated. Then I noticed that Holland was gone. Was it all a dream? I was naked, lying across the bottom of my bed. I could still taste her. It was definitely real.
“Holland?” There was no answer. I called her again. Still nothing. I checked the bathroom and downstairs. Holland was gone. The realization made me feel empty. Yet the memories from last night put a smile on my face.
I jumped in the shower, feeling better than I had in over a week. I called Holland after getting dressed, but got no answer.
I hoped she didn’t feel awkward about our night together, because I sure didn’t. Just thinking about her had my nether parts standing at attention. I wanted to do it all over again. Next time, I would savor the sex, instead of acting like an anxious teen wielding an inexperienced dick, trying his best not to explode prematurely.
I remembered Holland’s smile. It was something to behold. Maybe it was the accent or the sweet Southern flair. The unencumbered way she moved. Whatever it was, it grabbed ahold of me and I didn’t want to let go.
I made a quick breakfast and carried it to my home office for my meeting with the chair of the board I was joining. We hit it off well. I loved the agency’s mission, which focused on supporting foster children through adoption. I looked forward to meeting the rest of the board members. Life was looking better by the moment.
It had been days since I felt useful. Perusing my email and social media, I came across pictures from the awards ceremony. It looked like I got a lot of great buzz. Photos of me holding up my award made some of the business media’s social pages. I zeroed in on one picture with Holland and me on the dance floor and grinned at the memory of Holland in my arms. It felt like she’d always been there. Even from the picture, I could see that we were lost in each. I screenshotted the picture and saved it to my photos.
My next meeting was with an executive recruitment firm, although I hoped my next job would come from one of my warmer contacts. I wore a shirt, tie, and blazer with my basketball shorts. The recruiter seemed infatuated by me, which was good. It restored a small bit of my confidence. It lessened the feeling of having let my mother down. Staying unemployed would mean that I’d failed, and I couldn’t afford to fail. I couldn’t go back to being poor. Call it PTSD, but the trauma of poverty motivated me. The reason I worked so hard was because I never wanted to go back. Every day, people get rich and then lose it all. I vowed to never take my wealth for granted.
The media had moved on from speculating as to why I was ousted to a report about a real corporate scandal that sent that company’s stocks plummeting. I didn’t have to worry about controlling the narrative anymore, but until I landed another position, I still had to spruce up my personal brand. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do next. I hadn’t planned on being jobless. I cupped my head in my hands and groaned. How could I control narratives when I couldn’t control what was happening to my life?
I checked a few more emails and came across one requesting that I speak at a leadership conference. I clicked out of the email and shut the computer down. What could I possibly tell a room full of employed leaders?
My LinkedIn profile still said I was the CEO of Push Beverages. I hadn’t had the heart to update it. Not a day passed when I didn’t think about Push, my staff or Ty.
I got up from my desk and went down to the kitchen. I opened the fridge, realized I wasn’t hungry, and closed it again. It wasn’t yet noon, and I’d run out of ways to stay sane. I had no idea what to do with idle time. My whole life was wrapped up in Push, professionally, personally, and socially.
I texted Tanya to see how my father was doing.
Tanya: He’s okay. Back home and still stubborn.
Me: Thanks.
Tanya: You two need to talk.
Me: Yeah.
I knew my response was noncommittal, but it was all I could give. It felt like too much to deal with my job situation and my father at the same time.
“What now, Noble?” I asked, as if I could give myself an answer.
The best part of this past week had been Holland. And not because she filled a void, but because she was an amazing woman, unlike any I’d ever dated. She was magnetic, drawing me in with her drawl and inviting energy. She wasn’t trying to impress me, nor was she impressed by me. She didn’t try to size up my credentials to decide if I was worthy of her time. She even got upset about how much I spent on her dress for the gala. None of the women I dated before cared about how much I spent on them. Several of them kept their hands permanently out in expectation. Holland was a comfort to be around, effortlessly sexy and laid-back, yet able to knock my socks off in a ball gown. She was…refreshing. And in bed, she was incredible.
An hour later, I was caught up on emails and meetings and was completely over scrolling through social media. I checked my watch and looked out the window again, hoping to see Holland return.
I was horrible at being bored. There were things I could have done, but didn’t want to, like talk to my dad. Even though our relationship was complicated, I felt like I’d failed him too. He’d always said a respectable man held down a job. I needed to get my life back.