Page 53 of Holly Jolly Cake Fight
Oh, but she was also fading, her arms folding to lower her weight to the bed. And the position was right, but the sleepy, cuddly vibe she was putting out there was too early. So Laurin sat upright again, drew one arm back, and smacked her ass.
Hard.
“Fuck!” Candace screeched, instinctively attempting to roll to her side, but Laurin held her up.
“Did you just curse?” he gasped playfully.
Her gasp was far more serious. “Me?! You used the C word!”
Laurin’s eyelids dipped at that. He rubbed the spot on her ass that was already heating up, expecting he’d see his print there in the morning. “I’m sorry, what word did I use?” he pushed, quickly learning he was going to love teasing her.
And when her eyelids lowered, it was to glower at him, but she couldn’t stop herself from swaying with his hand as she said, “You know which word.”
“Say it,” he urges. “Tell me what this is.” He notched himself at her entrance but held himself there.
“I will not,” she replied in a tone he was sure she’d cultivated during her upper-class upbringing.
“Say it. Grab onto the headboard and say it.”
Her little moan shot right to his cock as she took the brass bars of the headboard in her hand, but still she protested.
He smacked the other ass cheek just as hard.
“Cunt!” she squealed as Laurin leaned down over her, covered her hands with his, and fucked into her like it was the last act of a dying man.
Like he’d waited his entire life for this.
Like this was the only thing that would save them.
She was so warm and soft and sweet and small and sinfully tight beneath him. She smelled like bread pudding and feminine musk, and when he dropped his head down to her shoulder, she nuzzled him right back. He was being rough, unable to hold himself back, knowing he was probably pushing her too far, but she had a smile toying at her lips, and he could tell the tears in her eyes were big feels, but happy ones.
He was about to lose any control, his balls already tightening and his cock twitching hard, but then she whispered so softly he could barely hear it, “Hold me?”
“Fuck,” he whispered right back, tucking her in better as he lowered some of his weight on her, biting his own tongue to keep from ruining her serenity as he came hard enough his vision blurred. She came, too, but this orgasm was oh, so gentle, and it took all his willpower to kiss her as delicately as she needed him to even as his cock continued to spill within her core.
“You’re mine now, right?” he murmured as he shifted his weight slightly to keep from crushing her while still covering her. “You’re mine.”
Her sleepy, sex-drunk “mmm” was enough for now.
Chapter 19
Candace was a cuddler.Of all the ways she’d surprised Laurin in that hour that had stretched into all night — the cameraman definitely had the hot gossip now — the biggest surprise was waking up to find her cuddled against him.
Clothed. When had that happened?
But that was even better. She must have gotten up, skittered to her room to put on a nightgown, and come back. To cuddle.
His heart tightened. He didn’t know where this was going. Two weeks of high adrenaline and a thousand miles between homes wasn’t a great start. But Candace’s head was on his chest, her hand was balled into a fist, and her satin nightgown was a muted, almost-gray blue. He didn’t want to let her go.
He wasn’t going to let her go. But the first time he got that stray cat to eat out of his hand, it had run off the moment it got a bite of the roast turkey. So he needed to be prepared for whatever Candace was about to do.
He ran his hand along her side, feeling the gentle dip and swell from her waist to her hips, running back up to her chest, and felt another ache, this one less pleasant. Last night had confirmed something that had been nagging at him. The missing weight he blamed on the infamous camera ten pounds, the darkness in her face when he caught her without make-up, the way she ate — and didn’t. She had so much energy, but therewere odd moments of fatigue, too, where she suddenly looked tired and had to brace herself.
She was sick. He doubted it was anything fatal. No, this was sick from stress. This sort of wasting wasn’t common among athletes, not at a professional level where health could not be compromised, but he’d seen enough other variations to recognize it. He may not have had to force his teammates to eat, but he’d had his hands filled with steroid abuse and violent tempers many times.
He’d helped his teammates. He would help Candace, too, but not because she was his teammate. He would help her because she needed help, and if he had any chance of taking this beyond their little cabin, he needed to make himself as important to her as she was to him. His heart had already been getting in the way before last night. Now? He was playing for keeps.
She stirred when he probed her ribcage too firmly. A stretch and another snuggle, a wiggle of her butt and a throaty murmur of comfort. She tilted her head up to look at him and shot him the most comfy, satisfied smile.
