Unwrapping Holly

“Not far,” he said, settling her down on a blanket in front of the fire a moment before he pushed to his feet and started undressing. In a blink, Holly shook off the haze of sleep, her mouth watering. Finally, she had Cole to herself, all of him. She was instantly wide awake, enthralled by every inch of his exposed skin. The tree twinkled behind him, casting rainbows of color on the taut, gorgeous muscles he wasted no time displaying—first he removed his shirt, exposing broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and a six-pack of rock-hard abdominals that damned near made her orgasm just looking at them. Then, one piece after the other, his clothing disappeared.

In only seconds, he stood gloriously naked before her, his cock jutting forward in an impressive arousal. She was on her knees in an instant, crawling toward him, not about to wait for him to come to her, desire driving her to be the aggressor. Her body gushed just thinking about taking him in her mouth, and this time she would have no mercy. She would make him beg for satisfaction before it was over.

Holly settled at his feet, and caressed up his powerful calves and then wrapped the base of his cock with her palm. He moaned and stiffened, the lines of his face harsh, primitive, laden with the urgent anticipation she’d hoped to invite. She’d given her share of blow jobs in her college years, compliments of a boyfriend who favored his pleasure over hers. And she’d found that the process of mastering it, much like a craft, was enticing though not quite enjoyable. Never had she wanted to take a man in her mouth for the sheer pleasure of it—until now. Until Cole. She was like a new woman with Cole. Daring. Willing to explore and eager to use her newfound sexuality to lead an encounter. With a seductive glance upward, she pinned him in a stare and licked the liquid bead pooling at the tip of his arousal, her free hand skimming an amazingly tight ass.

“You like that?” she asked, her lips lingering near his cock.

“Yes.”

She licked the head again.

“Holly,” Cole murmured, her name etched with the burn of his desire, his fingers pressed to her head, in her hair, urging her onward as she did a slow swirl of her tongue around the head of his cock.

“Do it, Holly. Take me.”

“Not yet,” she said, lapping at him. She wanted more than his orgasm. She wanted all of him; she wanted him wild, a ball of sexual tension unleashed with explosive pleasure.

So, she restrained herself, restrained him, maintained a facade of leisure as she licked up and down his length.

With long, languid strokes of her tongue, she teased them both until finally, inch by inch, she drew his cock into her mouth, taking him deeply. He was hot and hard and, like before, she tasted, with satisfaction, the salty, taut need building within him.

Slowly, she began to pump his rod with her hand, suckling him and laving him with her tongue. Harder, she pulled on him; deeper, she took him—yes . . . she wanted him deeper. His cock expanded, thickened. What she couldn’t manage with her mouth, she covered with a tight wrap of her palm. His muscles strained; the sinewy lines of well-defined male perfection flexed as pleasure stole away his control.

“Harder, baby,” he panted. “Deeper.” She smiled against his cock, and gave him what he wanted, working him with her hand and mouth. The slow rock of his hips was no longer contained, turning to all-out thrusts; his hands settled more firmly in her hair. He was on the edge, rushing over into release. She drew him deeper, and he tensed a moment before shuddering to release. She worked her mouth around him, lapped up every last moment of the reward, and then slowly brought him down.

But there was no time to revel in her success, her power over this amazing man. Cole swiftly shifted the power, claiming control. One moment he was standing, the next, on his knees in front of her, his eyes smoldering with the promise of a bounty of sinful delights. He lowered her to the blanket, framing her body with his, the fire beside them crackling with hot embers.

He whispered her name against her lips, “Holly.” And she shivered with the passion-etched word. Shivered with the caress of his lips across her jaw, down her neck.

With sensual, tender hands, and nimble lips, he displayed a remarkable flair for finding every sensitive spot on her body. Demonstrating how sinful his lips could be in the most delightfully unexpected places, his tongue traced her wrist, the bend of her arm, the line of her spine clear to her backside.

She was lost, barely aware of the moment he slid a condom in place. Barely aware of her own name for the tenderness of his lovemaking.