Slay Bells Ring

Chapter Fourteen – Kane

I return with a towel, and as I sit on the side of the pull-out, I clean her off. As I do so, I can’t help myself. I let my gaze roam over her naked body, taking every square inch of her in and committing it to memory.

I never thought… I shouldn’t want—fucking hell. I don’t quite understand how this happened, but it’d be a lie to say we didn’t enjoy ourselves. Both Holly and I were able to get lost in the other. I’m not sure what that says about us.

That we’re messed up? That we’re both a little fucked up in the head? Yeah, probably.

Once she’s cleaned up, I collapse beside her. She’s still breathing hard, as am I. We both stare at the ceiling of the cabin. I should put another log on the fire, but… well, that would involve putting clothes on, and I don’t think I’m there yet.

The moment I put my clothes back on, this is over. Obviously, this could never happen again .

As I think that last thought, I turn my head and look at her. Her skin is pink and flushed, her bare chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. Her lips are parted, a little swollen from our kissing.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She is. No one’s ever come close. As much as it was a mistake, I can’t help but feel as though it was right. I don’t know Holly’s favorite color or her favorite movie, but I know what’s been driving her the last thirteen years. I know the anger in her soul. I know her more than I’ve ever known another woman.

And she knows me. Holly fucking Cooper knows me more than anyone I’ve ever been with. Other women thought I worked in the finance sector. They thought I got my money, my nice place, all from a real, up-and-up, legal job.

Holly knows the truth. She knows me and all the ugliness that comes with it. Add onto that, she knows why I came here, that I wanted to spend my holiday getting drunk and then have a big finale of walking out into the snow and never coming back.

With everything I’ve done, everything I wanted to do here, I don’t really understand why Holly would let me in like that—and I sure as shit don’t get why I want her so badly it hurts.

I do. I want her bad. Logic tells me it’s wrong and it can’t happen again, but fuck it all to hell. Fuck logic. Fuck right and wrong. I want Holly in ways I haven’t wanted anyone ever. Maybe it’s because she knows me, knows who I am and what I do; maybe a part of me is relieved she knows the blood on my hands. It’s not something I’ll ever have to hide from her.

I want her. Holy fuck do I want her. Never before has simple desire felt so consuming, but then again, nothing about this is simple.

Holly sighs as she rolls her head to the side, meeting my stare. She doesn’t look at me with disgust or hate—the emotions I anticipated from her now that she’s had time to think about what we just did.

No, she looks at me like I’m just a man.

“I have to say,” she tells me with a sloppy grin, “not bad. You go harder than I thought you would—you know, since you’re an old man and all. Are all old men as capable as you?”

Compared to her twenty-three years, I suppose my thirty-eight years is indeed old, but age is in the eye of the beholder, and I sure as shit ain’t an old man. I might not be as limber as I was years ago, but I am not fucking old.

I roll onto my side, a smirk tugging at my lips in spite of myself. “Who are you calling old?”

“You, obviously. Did you not hear me? Maybe you need to adjust the settings on your hearing aid or something—” Oh, she’s egging me on. She’s poking the bear to get a reaction.

As I scoot toward her, I roll her onto her side so that her back is against my chest. I snake a single arm up her front, between her tits, and grab her jaw, forcing her to look back at me. “If I’m so old, what does that make you?” Leaning against her body, it doesn’t take long for my cock to harden once more.

Seriously, I’m raring to go again. It’s unheard of—and not because I’m old .

Holly practically hums in my grip. “A girl with a thing for old men?” she suggests, her luscious lips curled into a sensuous smile.

“Let me show you just how not old I am,” I tell her before I kiss her. The taste of her lips fills me with satisfaction. She’s sweet, like honey on my tongue. I want to fucking drown in her… but I’ll settle for fucking her again.

I pull my mouth off hers the same moment the hand cupping her jaw moves to her leg. I lift that leg up and lean it back over mine, and then I position myself at her entrance from my spot behind her. She arches her back a bit, but the action is unnecessary; my cock is plenty long enough to spear her from behind like this.

It’s like my cock knows where to go. My tip prods her slick entrance, and I push inside her once again, my whole body shuddering as I fill her up from a new angle.

Fuck. I really could get addicted to this. To her. To the way her body feels when it’s against mine. To how her pussy takes my length and tightens around it when she’s lost in her own pleasure.

There’s no hitmen. No body out back. There’s no wound on my shoulder or on my chest, nor are there injuries on her feet. There’s no bad blood between us. It’s just Holly and me and the carnal hunger we feel for the other.

The sound Holly makes when I push into her from this angle is soft and feminine, and her head is still tilted back. Can’t have full eye contact, but it’s enough. I love watching the way her facial expression changes, when the muscles in her face slacken as she gives in. She’s beauty incarnate, and I don’t deserve the sight, let alone the sensation of being buried inside her slick, wet pussy.

But right now, that pussy is mine, as is the girl.

It’s not the best position to fuck in, but I don’t care. I’m inside her, and that’s all that matters. Once I have a good rhythm with my cock, I bring my arm back to her neck and hold onto her as I thrust from behind.

Right now, I want nothing more than to make Holly mine. Mine here, inside this cabin, and mine out there, in the real world, when we face whoever wants her dead.

I won’t let her die. I refuse. She is too important. I thought she wasn’t my problem, but I’ve never been more wrong in my life. Holly is my problem. Her entire existence is my problem. I ruined her life thirteen years ago, so the least I can do for her now is try to help her fix it. Save her. Protect her. Keep her alive. I owe her that.

Being inside her, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Maybe it’s because she knows the real me, or maybe I’m finding a new lease on life thanks to her. Whatever the reason, being nestled inside her is as addicting as any drug.

Holly moans, and thanks to the hand around her neck, I feel the sound as it leaves her slender throat. I feel it, I hear it, I memorize it and file it away for later. A sound like that isn’t the type of sound a man hears every day. After this is over, I might not ever hear that sound again—and that just doesn’t seem right.

No. Perhaps my mind is addled with the urgent need that comes hand in hand with sex, but I can’t imagine walking away from Holly. I can’t picture a future where I’m bereft of her moans, her glares, and her lithe body.

Fuck. What’s happening to me? What is Holly doing to me? It’s like I can’t think straight.

Even though my shoulder is tight, I lean against her as much as I can, burying my nose in her hair and breathing her in. Never has the smell of sweat and sex been more addicting. Fate sent me the one person that could throw a wrench into my plans of oblivion, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

As my hips jerk against her and my cock slams into her from behind, I groan. Every part of my body is on fire. Every nerve in me is flashing danger signs my way, warning me that I’m getting too addicted to Holly, that this can’t possibly end well for us.

But what does a man like me, a man who was ready to throw it all away, have to lose?

I don’t want to be the only one who loses himself, though. I want her to lose herself in me, and it’s because of that want, that desire, that the hand around her neck drops to that sweet spot at her apex. I slip two fingers around her clit and rub her as I fuck her.

Holly writhes against me, the sounds coming from her filling the air of the cabin, making me even crazier than I already am. Soft, light, feminine moans fill my ears. It’s easy to put her right back on the edge; her clit was still swollen from its previous attention.

Amongst her moaning, Holly manages to pant out my name: “Kane.” The way she says it, so desperately, makes me go at her harder, pinch her clit between my fingers as I stroke her with a rougher touch.

No one’s ever said my name quite like that before.

Her body seizes up, tensing and trembling as an orgasm takes hold of her. She cries out a whimper as her inner walls clamp down on my cock. Holly’s skin burns against mine, her clit pulsating between my fingers, and she is absolutely spectacular.

Seeing and feeling her lose it makes me want nothing more than to erupt inside her, fill her pussy up with my cum and mark her as mine—but doing that would be foolish and rash, and I’m not stupid enough to think this will be forever.

So, when that familiar pressure starts to build inside of me and I can no longer push it down and ignore it, I jerk my hips back and bring a hand to my length. My fist pumps along my cock in quick, fluid succession, and not soon after I empty myself on that plump, firm ass of hers.

Fuck—and I mean that in more ways than one.

I’m breathing hard as I lean over her and grab the same towel I used before to clean her up. I use its cum-free side to wipe those ass cheeks, and then I toss that towel aside, breathing hard all over again.

Holly is measured in rolling over to face me. She breathes hard through her mouth, but there’s a certain twinkle in those green eyes that wasn’t there before. “Okay,” she admits, “that was pretty good. I guess you’re not that old.”

All I can do is smirk. Smirk and shake my head once. As much as I’d like to banter with her, go back and forth between her, we really should get some rest before nightfall. I simply tell her, “Try to get some sleep.”

Her body hums beside mine. “Now that you mention it, I am a little tired now…” The way her voice trails off, I can tell she’s already on her way to dreamland.

I turn my head and watch as Holly drifts off to sleep. It doesn’t take long. Soon enough her breathing slows and her bare chest rises and falls with the even repose that only comes with unconsciousness.

It’s something I realized before, but it hits me particularly hard right then. Goddamn it.

Everything about Holly fucking Cooper is my problem.