14. The First Guy

Briar

We sprint.

We're grabbing towels and wine and phones as Donut races with us, jumping at the door as I open it, then immediately beelining to a cushy chair in the living room and curling into a dog ball on it, since she believes all furniture is dog furniture.

Which is reasonable.

But a few steps into the kitchen, it occurs to me Hollis hasn't even seen the inside of the cottage. As I dry off quickly, I nod toward the open living room. "Want a tour?"

"Not on your fucking life," he says, dragging the towel across his broad chest, then tossing it onto a stool.

Stalking me.

Before I know it, he's grabbing me, jerking me against him, then hoisting me up on the kitchen counter, kissing me all over again. There will be time for a tour later.

As he kisses me thoroughly, all I can think is Steven was wrong. Or maybe he was right about our kisses.

I never felt like this with my ex. Any ex. I never felt this thrumming in my cells. This heat under my skin. This sweet, slow ache between my thighs.

I tip my face up, asking for more of his ravenous kisses, and he gives them to me, wedging himself between my legs, making himself right at home where I want him. I wrap my ankles around his ass and tug him closer.

The man kisses like he plays hockey. He goes all out. He hustles, he chases opportunities, he holds nothing back. He seems like a damn good candidate to break my streak—the zero O's with another person streak.

A man who goes all out might be just what I need. When he hauls me closer, I go with it, doing my best to just…enjoy.

What's not to enjoy, really? His hands coast up my belly, then around to my bikini top, untying it, letting it fall to the tiled floor with a wet thwap. I laugh. He laughs at the sound too.

Then our laughter dies when his gaze lands on my breasts.

His smile makes me feel like I'm the birthday present he's always wanted. He looks up, his hungry eyes on me. "You are so fucking pretty everywhere," he says, then he bends and presses a hot, hungry kiss to my right breast, then my left, murmuring, praising them, kissing and sucking and…wow.

Maybe this can happen.

His attention feels so good my toes are curling. My skin is tingling. I'm hot, a little electric. Like a firework just lit, the end sparkling. The more he kisses, the faster the flame goes.

But then there's this nagging voice in my mind.

What if…

What if I don't like it…

What if I'm bored…

What if, what if, what if.

I try to shut off the noise, to enjoy the sensations, the pull in my belly, the throb in my core, but I can't quite escape the hum in my head. So I tug his face up and before he can even ask a question, I slide a hand over his hungry cock. It jumps under my palm. His breath hisses.

I squeeze his cock.

This I can handle. Him. His pleasure. So in a flash, I hop off the counter and get down on my knees. When I look up at him, his blue eyes register shock but excitement too. My fingers tease at the waistband of his shorts. "May I?"

He blinks.

His eyes still look hazy. Almost confused. "Yeah," he says huskily.

I peel down the shorts, his cock springing free—long, thick, and hard. I lick the head, swirling my tongue over him, savoring the salty taste. He groans.

I suck a little deeper, looking up at him, a cue for him to stare at me the whole time. To watch his dick slide past my lips.

It's a sight most men lose control over.

I draw him in deeper. Sucking. Teasing. He ropes a hand in my hair, hips moving slowly almost of their own accord, cock easing past my wet lips. Breath harsh and ragged.

It's good like this. Watching him start to lose it. Knowing he's close. One of us should be.

He's grunting and pumping and panting and gripping my hair. Excitement builds in me. The desire to please. The thrill of an orgasm for someone at least. It won't take long.

But then he grits out a sharp, bitten-off curse. And in a flurry, he hauls me off his dick and pulls me up.

I pout. "Why'd you stop?"

He shakes his head, presses a finger to my lips. "That was so fucking good, I was too close."

"So?"

He shakes his head. "No way am I coming first. You come first," he says.

"Bossy," I tease to keep the mood light.

But maybe he can be the one to back up the demand. He's the best kisser. Maybe he can give me my first joint O.

"Okay," I say, hoping it'll be different this time.

His brow knits. Confusion passes in his eyes, but he's clearly up for whatever challenge I'm throwing his way since he lifts me, tosses me on his shoulder, and carries me to the couch.

Donut watches us, her head cocked in curiosity. I look away from her though, trying my best to focus on the moment just like I focus on a yoga pose. I'm going deep into my body. I'm sinking into a pose.

Hollis lays me next to his naked body then shimmies off my bikini bottoms, sucking in a powerful breath as his eyes coast over me.

"So fucking gorgeous," he says. "Gorgeous everywhere."

I beam under the praise. I'm not used to it. And I do like it.

I like it, too, when he slides a big hand between my thighs, his fingers finding my slickness right away.

I gasp. Objectively, it's good. I close my eyes, savoring the glide of his fingers, the circling of his thumb, that delicious attention to my clit.

The ache between my thighs sharpens, turns insistent. I feel close, like I can grasp the possibility of a climax, hold it in my hands, clutch it and never let it go.

With more urgency, he kisses my face, my neck, the corner of my mouth while picking up the tempo with his fingers.

He draws maddeningly fantastic circles through my wetness. "You feel so fucking good," he whispers.

And so does he. I'm lifting my hips, asking for more, so impossibly close.

It'll happen. It'll happen this time. I just know it. I'm so sure that I'm panting, moaning, arching. I can feel it.

It's there, just out of reach. Right on the other side.

Almost. Almost.

But then, I'm so far into my head, so lost in my wish to finally, finally come that I simply can't.

Story of my love life.

I go into cruise control instead, chanting, "Oh god, oh god, oh god."

I curl my toes. Arch my hips. And then I smile woozily. Breathe out hard, like I'm satisfied.

Sigh contentedly.

Maybe now I can finish him off. Someone should get to come, and he deserves it for trying so hard.

But when I blink open my eyes, Hollis is staring down at me like I'm a puzzle that both impresses and intrigues him. "You just faked it."

I freeze. It's not the first time I've faked it.

But he's the first guy to notice.