Wicked Things by Yolanda Olson
Hollis
Bates was gentle.
He used his body to hold mine in place, but every move he made was done with consent.
Something I had never given anyone before.
“Hold your legs for me, pretty girl,” he instructed as he spit into the palm of his hand, then placed the head of his dick against my hole.
I did as he suggested, cradling my legs in my forearms, and Bates smiled.
“That,” he began as his smile turned into a grin, “is what my pretty girl who wants to get fucked looks like. I swear to God, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I think you’re stuck with me.”
I blushed at his praise again and he leaned forward to kiss me before I felt the pressure of my hole being gently forced open.
“Are you okay?” he grunted, waiting before he continued to move into me.
I nodded, thankful that he gave enough of a damn, then closed my eyes and ground my teeth together when he fully entered me.
Bates rested his forehead against mine and whispered the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me, “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
But I knew I wouldn’t.
I couldn’t.
Not when he made me feel so goddamn wanted.
Bates began slowly, rolling his hips until the visible pain finally left my face.
“Ready?” he asked after a few gentle thrusts.
I looked up at him, wide-eyed, naïve enough to think that he would maintain this gentle pace, but also so goddamn thankful that he didn’t.
I let out a whimper when he began to thrust his hips faster, forcing himself deeper into me. I let go of my legs and dug my fingernails into his shoulders when he started to fuck me harder than I ever had been before.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, content in letting him use me, as small gasps of pleasure and pain escaped me.
The sound of flesh slapping together was something I had never enjoyed before now—since I had never been given a choice.
What I showed Bates, what he saw when I laid exposed bare in front of him, was what always got a violent reaction.
I had always been a fool for assuming that I would have been accepted as I was.
Until now.
“More,” I begged him, and he chuckled as he slid out of me. I was confused, hurt, and angry.
That was until he gave my thigh a gentle slap and sat down on the bag next to me.
Running a hand back through his sweat-slicked hair, Bates gave me a grin and then a command.
“Get on top, pretty girl. I wanna see what you’ve got.”
