Holland

“Um, yeah. I can’t talk right now.” Savannah has the absolute worst timing ever. As much as I despised doing it, I had to answer the call though. It could have been one of my parents, but it’s just Savannah, thank God.

“Sorry, but we need to solid up a plan. My mama and her new man friend are going to the Jacksons’ for drinks, and when they do that, they don’t come home till like five in the morning.”

“Okay, and what does that have to do with me?” I ask, watching King remove my shoes and kiss his way up my calf. Currently, he is spreading my legs apart for better access to the tender, sensitive area behind my knees. I can hardly speak to Savannah through the haze of sex surrounding us.

“It means you can stay overnight with your new boyfriend if you want to. Just call your mama and tell her you’re worn out from swimming and you just want to stay with me tonight. I’ll make a lump in my bed. My mama will be too drunk to care what’s going on. She’ll never know you weren’t here.”

“What about . . .” I’m trying to line this all up in my head so that it makes sense, but King is removing my clothes and kissing me in places I’ve never been kissed before.

“What about what, Holland? What are you doing? Sounds like you just ran up a flight of stairs.”

“Why are you doing this?” The question is meant for Savannah but could be for King just as well, and consequently, they both pause—her talking, him kissing. Why does she want me to spend the night with him, and why is he torturing me while I’m on the phone with her?

I nod at King that the question wasn’t meant for him, and he returns to my leg while Savannah begins talking again.

“What do ya mean? You want to stay with him, don’t you?”

King has climbed onto the bed behind me, where I’m sitting on the edge. His lean, muscled legs slide around me from behind, and I feel his hard length pressing into my backside.

“I just thought . . . I mean . . . I figured you wouldn’t want me to . . .” God, I can’t concentrate with his hands on my breasts and his warm breath in my hair.

“Okay, yeah, sure. We can work out the details tomorrow.” The words rush out, and King has had enough of being ignored. I hear Savannah huff in frustration at my lack of clear communication before King takes the phone and presses end, tossing it into my purse on the floor.

“Everything alright?” he asks, slowly sliding the material of my jumper off of my shoulders as he kisses every area that it had been covering.

“Ah, yeah, fine. Just Savannah . . .” My words become more and more nonsensical as he begins to bite at the skin around my shoulders and the back of my neck. I whimper and feel the heat between my legs intensify a million fold.

“Do I have all of your attention now, Holland?”

“Yes.”

“All of it? Are you sure?” he asks, pushing the gauzy tangerine material down to my waist and exposing my breasts. His hands explore my belly and my waist and finally glide over my taut nipples, occasionally pausing to roll one between his fingers and then the next. My nails dig into his thighs that are wrapped around my legs, and I drop my head back onto his shoulder.

“Yes . . . all of it.”

“Good, now lift up.” I arch my back and lift as his fingers work the rest of my clothes over my hips until they slide onto the floor at my feet. I am completely bare, and I’m glad we aren’t facing each other, because this time, without the alcohol coursing through my veins, I am nervous. I wasn’t myself last night, and this afternoon we were still dressed for the most part, but this is the first time I’ve been completely naked and sober with King. The light is so soft that only our shadows are visible, but that doesn’t do much for my nerves.

King’s hands cover mine, loosening my clawing fingers.

“Relax. You’re safe with me.” He breathes into my ear. Shivers run the length of my body, and I try like hell to do as he asks.

His hands are still covering mine as he guides them away from his thighs and onto my own. Our hands glide together along the outside of my legs until we arrive at my knees, where we spread them open wide. King’s body molds with mine, transferring his intense energy to me with his touch, his kisses . . . his breath. He presses his soft facial scruff between my shoulder blades, and a moan vibrates from his chest, triggering something deep within me. My inhibitions about being exposed dissipate when I realize that he is in control, and I am indeed safe in his arms.

“Touch yourself,” he murmurs, leaning our bodies back so I’m against his chest and his chin is on my shoulder. I hesitate, but he’s right there, moving my hands to my core, pressing his finger against mine so we’re circling my clit together.

“You’re so responsive, Holland. Your body hears mine, as if it’s been waiting for me to bring you alive. Look at me,” he says softly, and I turn my face to his so he can take my breath away with a kiss that sends jolts of electricity to where our hands move in a figure eight along my clit and down to the entrance of my apex, where I’m pulsing on the edge of ecstasy. King senses that I’m teetering.

“Uh uh . . . not yet,” he says, licking a toe-curling trail down my neck to my shoulder while moving our hands to smooth over my flat belly and along my waist until we are both cupping my sensitive breasts.

“Do you trust me, Holland?” His voice is low and serious. I innately have no fear of this man. Somehow, I trust him unconditionally.

“I do,” I answer with conviction.

“Close your eyes,” he commands quietly.

When my eyes are closed, he moves away from me and off of the bed. I instantly miss his heat when the cool air of the room swirls around me in his wake. I hear him padding around the room on the thick carpet and wonder what he’s up to, and I wish he would hurry up and come back to me.

“Keep them closed,” he says, standing directly in front of me. I hear the zipper on his jeans lower and the ruffling of his shirt being pulled over his head.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Holland. I wish I had a camera. I’d take a million photographs of you.”

His comment makes me stiffen on the edge of the bed. I’m not sure how I feel about being photographed nude.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have my camera tonight. But I’d like to another time if you’d let me.”

Instantly I relax, and he moves between my legs, his thick cock brushing against me while he covers my eyes with what feels like a thin scarf.

“Can you see?” he asks, and I open my eyes, only to see the black material covering my eyes.

“No.”

“You’re going to bite through your lip if you don’t relax, sweetheart,” he says, pulling my bottom lip from between my teeth. “Scoot back toward the head of the bed.”

I move in that direction, and when I’ve got my back against the padded headboard, I feel the covers slide out from under me and land on the floor with a whoosh. I wait with my knees together, palms down on the mattress, panting with anticipation.

“Turn over and lay down, baby,” he says, and I cock my head in question. “Believe me, you won’t regret it. Lay down,” he says, and I do as he asks.

On my belly, I wait for further instruction, as that seems to be how this game is played.

“Arms up,” he says, and I finally feel him crawling across the enormous bed toward me. I lift my arms up as he straddles me, and again I feel the weight of his thick cock against my ass. I close my eyes, even though I can’t see anyway, and take a deep breath and hold it.

Another scarf circles my wrists, tying them together.

“Keep them right there, do you understand?” His lips brush against my ear, and I nod while still holding my breath. I feel him reach to my right to retrieve something. Suddenly, sultry music fills the room and I recognize the silky smooth voice of The Weekend. Does he know I love his music, or is this just another thing we have in common? It’s not classical, but this music is the key to my relaxation. I release my breath and allow myself to melt into the mattress under the light pressure of King’s body.

“Good girl. I thought that might help,” he says as he stretches again to my right. I hear him setting what I imagine is another sound system remote down on the table, but he also picks something up, and after a click, I can see a faint bit of light behind my mask.

“I need to look at you. I’ve turned the lights up a little,” he informs me. His hands slide up my back. As his body hovers over mine, he gathers my hair together in a messy knot and wraps a rubber band around it, securing it on top of my head.

“Are you comfortable? You’re not tied too tightly, are you?”

I shake my head no, and again I feel him lean away from me.

“Holland, you don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

Food allergies? Why the hell is he asking me about food allergies when he’s got me naked and tied up in his bed?

“Um . . . no. Why?”

“Good.”

Before I can wonder any more on the subject, I feel something hot drizzling across my back. Initially I tense, but as he continues to pour the thick liquid in patterns over my skin, I begin to enjoy the sensation.

Rising over me, he continues lacing my skin with the mystery liquid until I recognize the scent. It brings visions of tea and toast to mind. It’s honey . . . he’s pouring hot honey in tiny ribbons all over my body, from my neck to the soles of my feet.

“Honey?”

“Mmm yes. I wish you could see yourself.”

“Tell me.”

He stops and sniffs an approval.

“You’re going to be good at this, aren’t you?”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, so I quietly wait for him to tell me what he sees.

“Well . . . your bronze skin is flawless in the soft light. The curve of your back that blends into your perfect, round ass has a pool of sticky honey right in the center, between the most adorable dimples. A trail of redness appears under every thread of honey along your skin, but it disappears, leaving a glimmering stream of sweetness in its wake.

His narrating halts as I feel him move to put the honey down. I have no idea what’s next. I lay still and wait until something else begins to dribble onto my oversensitive skin. This time it’s cold, and I suck in a breath and tense as it tickles its way across my backside. I don’t recognize this scent. It doesn’t smell like much of anything, so I ask.

“It’s cold,” I say, feeling goosebumps forming on my skin.

“Cream.”

“You’re making me into a cup of tea?” I say, and he chuckles.

“I hadn’t thought of that, but your skin is the color of tea, and with honey and cream, you’re my perfect cup of tea,” he says, lowering himself down to straddle me again. He swirls the mixture with the tips of his fingers, down to the pool in the small of my back between my dimples. He scoots back just enough so that he can reach the area that he has just erotically described. His tongue lavishes my burning flesh, exploring, searching, seeking to find every secret my body holds. He forges along the crack of my ass, nipping and licking until my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. I can’t even hear the music anymore. The whoosh of my pulse fills my ears, and the sensation of King’s mouth traveling over forbidden areas of my body consumes me. I whimper and moan as his lips travel up my spine and to the back of my neck.

“So sweet,” he murmurs, and I smile. His chest is stuck to my back, and I feel the pull of the honey trying to keep us together when he rises to massage my shoulders. We have to be a sight, and for a second I almost wish he had taken some pictures.

King trails his finger through the honey again and slides his hand around my neck and against my face, spreading the sticky liquid along my bottom lip with his thumb before slipping it between my lips. I suck gently and swirl my tongue over the tip of his thumb, tasting the delicious combination of milk, honey and King.

I’m flipped onto my back within seconds, with my tied hands pushed over my head. I gasp as his sweet mouth covers mine, and I open my legs to thrust my hips against him, begging him to enter. With my hands bound, I use my legs and feet to urge him closer. Locking my ankles, I make it clear that I will not wait anymore.

He only has to adjust his position a fraction, and he is filling me with a forceful thrust.

“Oh, God,” I cry out, and he is immediately stone still. The pain is sharp, but the relief is overwhelming. I’m not sure what I’m experiencing more.

“Holland? Are you okay?” he asks, his voice heavy with concern.

“Yes! God, yes, don’t stop.” I pant, and immediately he’s moving urgently, regaining the passion of the interrupted moment.

I meet him thrust for thrust, using the headboard behind my bound hands as leverage while he drives into my body with the power of a man possessed.

“Hey . . .” He slows his pace and gently kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell for?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.

“Caveman . . .” he says sheepishly, and I raise my bound hands over his head and around his neck to pull him into a deep kiss. I feel him swell inside of me, and he breaks away.

“I can’t control myself with you. I want to seduce you all fucking night, but . . .”

I sense him searching for the right words.

“I need to see you, King, please.” The blindfold has been intensely erotic, but this is a moment teeming with emotion and I want to read what’s in his eyes. The blindfold is pushed up. I squint from the light and see King devouring me with his hungry eyes, fighting for control. His tenderness gradually falls away, the primal need to conquer builds, and I can’t hold on. My lack of experience is blatantly obvious when I give no warning. Arching my back in a fit of emotion and physical pleasure, I explode around King. Every thrust of his cock brings on another electric spasm, and the fleeting thought that I might die of euphoria steamrolls through my brain when another wave hits me and I cry out King’s name. My eyes roll back into their sockets as King claims my second orgasm. His roar bounces around the room, his cock is pulsing inside of me, my walls clench around him, and my life as I know it changes forever.

This isn’t average or normal. Nothing about what has been happening between us for the past thirty-six hours is ordinary or everyday. This is big, off the charts powerful, a full speed ahead, epic forever kind of thing. Even at the tender age of nineteen, I realize it. I just hope King does too.

He rolls us over, forgetting that my hands are bound as he closes his eyes and flops back, tossing his arms out to the side. I lay my head on his heaving chest, and with my arms above my head, I play with his silky hair.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, reaching up to release my wrists and massaging the circulation back into my arms.

“Better?”

“Yes, much.”

King wraps his arms around me, squeezing so tightly I can hardly breathe. When he loosens his hold, his chest rises and falls with a deep sigh. Reversing roles for the first time, I ask him if he’s okay.