Page 52 of Holly Jolly Cake Fight
He hoped his words would be enough to encourage her to open up, but she’d gone warm and soft, and her legs hooked around his so her body could move with his, and he let that be enough. He held himself back, making himself savor every inchof her warmth, every gentle sound she made, even though every muscle of his body screamed for him to take. To claim. To mark.
Finally, she hugged him again, hooking her chin over his shoulder as though to hide her face as she said, “It’s been five years since I was first estranged from my husband. And we didn’t really have a sex life a long time before that.”
He thought he knew what she was saying, but it seemed so absurd that he had to confirm it. “And after the estrangement? Any partners—”
“I remained faithful, even if he didn’t.”
Five years. Maybe six. And she was so young. Barely thirty. The feelings that had been simmering inside Laurin for a while now, since at least the day of the cookie episode, threatened to boil over at the notion that she was practically untouched but still wanted him.
He propped himself up enough to put some space between them. Despite having seriously good friction going, she scowled.
Needy girl. And he liked that a lot.
He laid his hand flat on her stomach below her navel, stretching a finger down to scrape along her clit. Her back bowed immediately, lifting her half off the bed.
“Kiss me,” he told her, and he saw the flicker of retreat warring with the urge to obey and the need to take what she wanted. The way she talked of her family and her ex, Laurin got the sense that there’d been a lot of traps in her life, the sort of thing that made someone scared to take what was offered to them. On the surface, it seemed counterintuitive that she could be so timid while also being one of the most talked-aboutcontestants on America’s favorite competitive cooking show, but it was beginning to make perfect sense.
Candace couldn’t accept what was handed to her. She could only fight to the death for it. It was the only way she could trust that she’d done what she needed to for it.
It’s why she insisted she was here because the network wanted a villain, why she was so sure they’d paid Laurin to be nice to her.
With a punch of his cock and a prod of his finger, Laurin again growled, “Kiss me.”
She did it immediately this time, the force of his voice enough to propel her up. It was a quick, hard, sloppy kiss, her teeth bruising his lip, probably hard enough there’d be a mark tomorrow that the make-up team would scowl about.
To even the score and ensure that the make-up team would have no doubts about where the bruise had come from, he rubbed his day’s growth of whiskers along her cheek as he leaned in to whisper, “That’s not the way I wanted you to kiss me, was it?”
He lifted back up, and though it was dark, he could see the dilation of her pupils, the rose in her cheeks. Her breath whispered rapidly over his lips and down his neck.
Her pussy tightened back up into a fist as her thighs clenched his hips, and here he finally knew that yes, the expression on her face the day he saved her cake was intoxicatingly close to the edge of her orgasm.
“Kiss me right,” he groaned, worried that the knowledge alone was going to make him spill.
With her fingertips digging into his shoulder blades, leaving two sets of delicate half-moon imprints, she used those dense, toned biceps of hers to lift her torso off the bed to slant her parted lips across his. Their tongues met in a war of need and power. She made the gentlest sounds against his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to find any softness within himself. Instead, he groaned, “Your cunt is fucking heaven,” when her whole body tightened up.
Her muscles went into a climactic frenzy on that, her head tilting back even as she clung to him more tightly, her scream of pleasure focused on the headboard. It cut off to a high keen when the exposed column of her throat proved too much for Laurin and he ran his tongue up the length of it, adding a squirm to her hips as he hit a sensitive spot. She was lucky he had the presence of mind not to leave a hickey where viewers worldwide would be able to see it on America’s Not-So-Sweetheart.
She was also lucky he managed to hold himself together through her orgasm. It was hard to keep from tipping over the edge with her, but he managed. Once the initial spasms passed through her but she hadn’t quite settled yet, he pulled out, leaving her mewling for him for several seconds.
The sight of her begging for him, her knees spread wide in a wanton display, her pussy swollen and stretched just right for his girth and one hand reaching for him while the other plucked at her own nipple, made his cock pulse and spill freely. He wanted to paint her body with his cum, but he was grudgingly thankful for the condom catching the pre-cum.
This time.
Her breathless whimper of, “Laurin, please!” was vital. It was the beat of his heart.
He flipped her over roughly, but she was too lost in her bliss to react with any sort of modesty. She popped right up on hands and knees, proudly displaying her ass and that soaked pussy for him.
He’d already had an idea of what he was going to do when he got her on her stomach, but the sight had him pivoting briefly. He bent down and pressed his tongue flat against her clit and slurped all the way up, diverting into her pussy to savor every drop of her essence.
“Oh God, oh God, I’m gonna come again!” Candace squealed, an offer far too tempting for Laurin. He returned his fingers to her clit and continued lapping at her entrance until she reared back and gushed onto his tongue.
He took hold of her hips, still as thick and meaty as the Candace of seasons past, the television personality he’d shamelessly pictured as he stroked himself off in the shower more than once. Plenty of her happy eating sounds and nibbles at her own bottom lip had interested his cock, but her whimpers and mewls, his name on her tongue, were unparalleled.
A flight of fancy caught Laurin as he let her buck on his tongue, and it hit him that his face was buried in the pussy of Candace fucking Coale. Is this what it had been like for the fans he’d occasionally taken back to his hotel room on away games?
No. He wasn’t anything to those women except a two-time World Cup first-stringer. Candace was a beautiful, sensitive, vibrant, wounded woman with a giant heart that had been torn apart too many times. This wasn’t a trophy fuck or an on-set fling.
The look she gave him as her orgasm faded was lifeblood.
