Page 35 of Holly's Grizzly

I know Irving won’tletme stop myself from feeling every little bit of pleasure he has to give me. He’ll stay with me, right here with me, until I get exactly what I need.

He rumbles his approval before reaching over to open the bedside table drawer. I hear a rustle of foil, and my next words slip out before I can fully think them through.

“You don’t have to… I mean… I have an IUD. And I was tested. After Cody and I split, I got tested, and there hasn’t been… there hasn’t been anyone since then.”

Irving freezes above me.

He withdraws his hand from the drawer and brings it to my face, smoothing back my hair and running his thumb over the heated crest of my cheek.

“I’ve been tested too, and it’s been a long, long time since there’s been anyone else for me, but… is that what you want? I’m more than alright either way, all that matters here is what you’re comfortable with.”

The words are slow, measured, earnest, and I can’t hear anything within them that makes me think they’re just platitudes. He really does want me to be comfortable, and I absolutely believe that no matter what I choose, he’ll be just fine.

But his eyes tell a different story.

There’s a light shining in his deep brown gaze, an edge I haven’t seen there before.

It’s focused, hungry, feral, like the idea of him fucking me bare is driving him just as wild as it’s driving me. Like as much as he might want to be all noble and considerate, there’s also a part of him that wants to see me filled with his come, dripping with it.

I recognize that edge because I’m feeling it too.

Unhinged, irrational, undeniable, I’ve never felt anything like it. The deep-seated urge to have him just how he is, not even a thin layer of latex between us. So yes, this will be fine either way, but I want so much fucking more thanfine.

“Yes,” I tell him, and all that hunger in his eyes grows even sharper. “Yes, that’s what I want, Irving. I want your cock in me. I want you to come in me, mark me, make me—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence before his mouth crashes into mine. Open, carnal, devouring, he growls his approval into the kiss.

Irving takes his cock in hand and nudges it toward my entrance. Just like downstairs, though, he’s in no hurry to get where he’s going. He takes his time to tease me, to make sure I’m desperate and begging for it before he gives me what I want.

The thick head of his cock runs over my slick pussy. He wets himself thoroughly before sliding it up to bump against my clit. Once, twice, again, keeping the press of his warm skin oh so light against mine.

I can already feel the first stirrings of another orgasm building deep in my belly by the time he notches himself at my entrance and pushes forward an inch.

Just one.

Just enough to test me a little, to hint at everything he has to give me, before he withdraws and runs himself up the length of my slit again.

He does that a few more times. Teasing, just teasing, until I’m squirming beneath him, nails scoring his back, teeth pressed to his throat in a bite that’s half warning, half plea.

“Irving,” I rasp into his skin. “Irving, please. Please.”

Apparently that’s the magick word, because he takes my lips again as he sinks into me. Slowly, steadily, letting me feel every single inch.

Even with as ready as I am for him, the stretch still has a little sting to it. A delicious sting. A sting that feeds the feral need in me. A sting that has me breathing deep and willing my body to soften for him, to take all of him, to—

“Holly,” Irving murmurs, stilling his hips. “Easy, now. I’m going to take care of you. You just relax.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

I bury my face in his throat and inhale the impossible pine and winter scent of him while he works himself inside in a series of short, gentle thrusts. And when he’s finally pressed all the way inside, I let out a fractured, shuddering moan, canting my hips as I try to get used to the feel of him.

“Just wait, sweetheart,” he says, with a hand tightening on my hip to keep me still. “I don’t want this to be over too soon.”

A rush of warm satisfaction runs through me as I meet his gaze. Pleasure, so much pleasure there, along with tight, fraying control as he tries to get a handle on himself.

I bask in it. The heave of his chest against mine, the heavy press of his belly and the damp warmth of his skin, the slight tremble in his muscles as he grasps for control, I bask in it all.

And when he finally, finally starts moving, I bask in that, too.

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