Page 90 of Hold Me Today

I pull his cock free from the confines of his jeans, zipper tugged down. One glance up at Nick’s face shows me what he wants, what he needs, and I sink my fingers down to his base. His mercurial pewter eyes blaze with desire, and I don’t look away as I lean forward, balancing my weight on his thigh, and then lick the crown of his dick.

“Oh,fuck.”

English profanity—success strums through me.

I do it again, my tongue swirling over the head, before taking him fully into my mouth. That hand in my hair flexes as Nick emits a needy groan.Again, my heart whispers,make him do that again. I grip the root of him, bringing my hand up as I swallow him down. I work him in tandem, listening to every sound that leaves his mouth as guidance for exactly what he likes. Problem is, he likes it all.

Scratch that. It’s totally not a problem.

His hips lift off the stool; his hand in my hair keeps me grounded in place as he thrusts upward. I relax my mouth, fisting his hard-on faster, tighter, until his hips are churning to match the very same rhythm I’ve set to drive him off the deep end.

“Shit, Mina.” Flicking my gaze up, I watch the veins in his throat leap as he throws back his head. I wish I could see us together now: Nick losing control as he fucks my mouth, me on my knees, the root of all his pleasure.

I cup his balls with my free hand, tugging slightly.

But it’s enough to—

He rips himself free from my mouth, his hands locking on my shoulders to haul me up to my feet. “Take off your pants or I’ll tear them off,” he growls, pushing his jeans down to his feet.

It’s a tough decision to make. I have other leggings. I really don’t need this pair.

But, ultimately, I strip them off myself because it’s got to be quicker than the whole alpha-ripping-thing I’ve only heard about in my audiobooks. Without waiting for another order, I hop on his desk, legs dangling over the edge.

I fixate everything that I am on Nick.

He destroys the distance between us with three long-legged strides. Reaches behind me to close my laptop, leaving only the sounds of us breathing hard, and pushes it roughly aside. The popcorn scatters to the floor, victim to the cause, kernels flying every which way.

Nick grasps my right leg, drawing it up until my heel is planted on the desk and I’m completely exposed. Only, instead of slamming right into me, he drops to his haunches and flicks his tongue right over me without a single head’s up.

My head drops back. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

“Correction,” he drawls, voice thick with lust, “Saint Nick.”

I want to laugh and I want to cry out and it only seems natural that I do a little bit of both when he clamps a hand down on my thigh and sweeps his tongue around my clit, spreading my wetness, adding his own. It’s messy and raw and I’ve never,never, experienced such toe-curling pleasure in my life.

His fingers find me as he stands to his full height. He’s still in his T-shirt, and I go with my gut, fisting the hem and silently ordering him to take it off. He does in one smooth move, then returns the favor.

“No bra,” he husks out when my shirt meets the same fate as his and the popcorn.

“No bra,” I whisper back, my fingers gliding over the ink.Without the night there are no stars. I skim my hands up, cupping my breasts for him to see, tweaking my nipples.

It’s all he needs to line his cock up with my entrance and plunge inside.

We moan together as my body adjusts to the length of him. Nick grabs my knee, holding me open, and pulls back—then thrusts even harder inside. I bite my lip and reach for the ball of his shoulder to keep myself in place.

Nick holds nothing back.

His thrusts are swift and powerful, short and precise. He never lets up the pace, and when I meet his gaze, I don’t want him to slow down. Not now, not ever. He watches me like he can’t look away, and when he finally does, it’s only to stare at where we’re joined. I’m spiraling, threads of anticipation turned into ropes of pleasure, wrapping me up, keeping me here with him when my soul has always run from the prospect ofmore.

“Fuck, Mina,” he grunts, his features stark as he slams into me, “I’m gonna come. Touch yourself,koukla.”

I slip my hand between our damp bodies. And then I do nothing but feel: the way Nick’s hand trembles on my knee, the way he tilts his hips to make sure I cry out with every thrust, how I finger my clit sloppily, without precision, because I’m too far gone to do anything but beg for Nick to make me come.

Even though I want it, I’m not ready for the force of the orgasm that grips my limbs like anchors mooring me to a dock. I feel it up through my spine and down to my toes, and then I feel Nick release inside of me as he groans my name.

Better. How does it get so much better with him every single time?

Muscular arms draw me into his embrace, my cheek pressing against his sweaty, bare chest. I can’t even find it in myself to care. “I like whittling wood,” I mutter against his skin. “It might become my favorite hobby.”

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