Page 73 of Win You Over
“Remi.”
“What baby?”
“Stop teasing me,” he moans.
“I would never,” I say with mock indignation, licking the bead of pre-cum from his tip. My hand moves slowly over his shaft, keeping the pressure light. Holden bucks his hips again, chasing his pleasure, but I continue to stroke him at a languid pace. Frustration pulses off of him in waves.
“Fucking hell, Remi. Please.”
I chuckle. He’s so fucking adorable when he’s needy.
“Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe we should take a shower and head to the airport.”
I pull back, my lips twitching beneath a smile.
“You’re such a dick. Fine. Buy me a new bed. No more sharing. What the fuck ever. Make me come, Remington.” There’s that angry kitten I adore so much and there’s no way I can resist growly Holden. Honestly, I cannot resist any version of this man.
“Tell me what you want, baby.” I tighten my hold, stroking and twisting upwards making him groan.
“Make me come,” he pleads.
“How?” I want to hear it. Want to hear every desire and dirty word from his pretty mouth.
“Remi,” he whines, all but writhing on the bed. I fucking love the way my name sounds on his lips – his English accent stronger when he’s aroused.
“Tell me,” I demand, bringing my lips to his head while skating a finger between his ass cheeks.
“On your fingers,” he rasps. “I want to come on your fingers.”
“As you wish, pretty boy.”
By the time we reach Marina Cove, we’ve been travelling for over twenty hours. I’m sweaty, hungry, and exhausted.
“Stay with me tonight,” I say to my boyfriend, as the taxi carries us through the quiet streets. It’s after midnight and while I’m sure the town is still bustling at this hour, the suburbs are quiet.
He chews his bottom lip, but nods, and I rest my head on his shoulder, grateful to have another night with him.
When we stumble into my empty house, we leave our bags in the entrance hall, opening Holden’s only so he can take out his contact solution before we trudge upstairs. Despite being sweaty and covered in the grime of travel, we both use the bathroom quickly, then fall into bed, curling up in each other and drifting off to sleep.
It’s almost lunch by the time we rise. Holden’s eyes are bleary, black bags heavy beneath them.
“When do you have to work?” I ask, rolling over and burying my face in his underarm and breathing in his sweaty, musky scent. Despite being tired, just the smell and feel of him, and having him here with me, in my bed, has my cock stirring.
Holden groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. The hearts on his arm have faded and I make a note to draw more before he leaves. Give him something to make him think of me while he works.
“I have two days before I’ll be working double shifts for a while.”
“Hmm,” I mumble, nuzzling deeper into him. “That means two more days of keeping you with me.” And it works perfectly because the single beds I ordered for his flat should arrive soon. I am none too pleased with the idea of him sharing a bed with another person, even his purely platonic best friend. This possessive side of me is new and I am not upset about it at all. Holden needs to know how much he means to me.
“I feel gross,” he moans, pushing my face away from his arm. “I’m going to shower.” He rolls out of the bed, his hair and clothing crumpled from sleep.
“Fancy some company?” I shout when he reaches the door of my ensuite.
His smirk is all the answer I need to have me shooting off the bed and following him into the large rain shower.
Steam fogs up the room as we both stand under the powerful spray, the water massaging our bodies. Holden dips his head back, running his hands through his hair, and I take the opportunity to study him, cataloguing every visible inch. From the top of his head, down his perfectly sculptured jaw, to the dip in his clavicle, then further down, over his scarred chest and stomach and into the V that leads down to his cock nestled in thick curly pubic hair. It’s thin but long, and cut, with a rosy purple head. My gaze drifts further, taking in his slender yet muscular legs and slightly too big feet.
He is, quite frankly, stunning.
