Page 27 of Untamed

She nods, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m going to talk to him, okay? Maybe you two just need time to talk, to express your hurt and his anger?”

I shake my head, pulling back from her. “I think it would be best if we just kept away from each other. He’s adapting back to normal life, and I’m a hindrance.”

The dishwasher needs emptying, so I start working on it. “Maybe my presence here just reminds him of everything that happened that night.”

My stomach feels queasy at the thought. Holden actively wants to get rid of me and hasn’t been subtle about it, but whenever that night comes up in my head, I still picture him in the hay, getting a blow job.

Against my will, the scene appears in my mind every time I use my bullet vibrator. I’m tortured and intensely aroused by it, so much so that I’m disgusted with myself. Feeling what I thought was his boner in the pantry when I was drunk last week has only made it worse, and now, the tension between us is making me ache in all the wrong ways.

I’ve never even experienced sex, but I know with one hundred percent certainty that it would be mind-fucking-shattering with him. I’ve fantasized about it more times than I can count.

And now, he’s back here, so deliciously sexy and fucking mean as hell to me. I’m pathetic, but I can’t tell Dolly about it. I’ll take these humiliating feelings to my grave.

She rushes to my side, cupping my face tenderly. “You had nothing to do with it. You were an innocent bystander. He just needs to get acclimated to you being here—that’s all. We should’ve warned him that you were working here. Either way, neither of you is going anywhere. You’re both too important to me.”

12

HOLDEN

Her tits are in my face, nipples wet and puckered, covered only by the damp fabric of her white T-shirt. I grip her hips, pulling her down over my denim-covered erection. I’m so hard that it hurts, straining against the thick fabric.

“Been thinking about me, Redford? You sure are hard and ready for it. I thought you hated me.” Her voice is breathy and sensual.

The room is so dark, only lit by the moonlight spilling through the window. I’m not exactly sure where we are. I grit my teeth, not knowing why the hell we’re even in this position. I’m way too fucking turned on to push her off of me now even if she has Dixon blood running through her veins and she’s fucked my brother a thousand times.

I just need her once, one time. Now.

“Shut that pretty mouth, then open it and wrap it around my dick,” I order.

She bites her lip, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. My eyes trail down her delicate neck before focusing on her flawless tits. I move my thumb over the top of one, hardening it with the stimulation.

“I fucking hate you too,” she exhales, panting and moaning. “Oh, yes, don’t stop.”

She’s just as turned on as I am. My dick is brushing up against the sensitive spot between her thighs.

“Oh, yeah? You hate me … but right now, you’re riding me like a damn cowgirl, angel.”

Her eyes snap down to meet mine. I’ve never called her anything but her cursed last name. She reaches down for the button of my jeans, biting her lip as she undoes it, eyes shining with excitement. We’re both silent now, the anticipation too great to break it with words.

We’ve both been picturing it for so long. What if it doesn’t meet our expectations?

I’m so close to busting that as soon as she touches my dick, I almost come. It’s been three and a half years since I’ve felt a woman’s hand or mouth on my dick.

Rosie Dixon is the one I begrudgingly pictured in the dark of my cell when I had to rub one out to prevent myself from going insane. I would imagine her blue-green eyes, copper-red hair, and the same lust-filled look she gave me that night in the barn. The big tits are new, but I’m not mad about that development.

She licks her lips before lowering herself down over me, gripping my erection tighter with her hand before she gently licks the sensitive, seeping tip.

I groan with thick pleasure, dropping my head back on the pillow as the hot semen spews out of me, completely uncontrollable.

“Fuck, angel. Fuck.”

I wake with a start, sweat dripping down my bare chest. The room is sweltering. Someone must’ve turned the heat up to eighty-five degrees. The only sound is my gasp for oxygen.

The wetness inside my boxers is sticking to the skin of my balls and upper thighs. I reach my hand down, discovering that the sticky mess is definitely the result of me having a vivid, dirty dream about Rosie Dixon—my little brother’s ex-girlfriend—and coming in my sleep.

Fuck.

I called her sloppy seconds like a complete dickhead yesterday morning.

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