by M. H. Soars
I sense Oliver’s presence at my back and I uncoil from my crouched position, turning so I can see him. His face in hidden in shadows but I can feel the heat of his intense stare just the same. A chill runs down my spine and I’m taken over by an ice cold fever. My body is burning for the man in front of me. I want him like I never wanted anyone in my life. The emotion is so intense, it leaves me out of balance as if I’m tilting dangerously close toward a bottomless abyss.
This is it.
My hands move to the buttons of my shirt and slowly, I begin to unfasten them. I’m glad that Oliver is letting me take charge. I need to be in control right now. I strip the layers of clothing away one by one without taking my eyes off of him. I notice the change in his breathing, the tension in his body. He is staying rooted to the spot by sheer power of will. When the last piece is finally gone and I’m standing completely naked in front of him, he takes a step forward, then another one.
“Fuck,” he says in a restrained voice.
Not waiting for him to get any closer, I whirl around and dive into the pool, my heated body welcoming the coldness of the water. Before I resurface, I hear the sound of Oliver jumping in. I come up for air and a second later, Oliver wraps his arm around my waist and spins me around. There’s a deafening rush in my ears and the trembling of my lips has nothing to do with the cold. It’s all him.
Water drips from his eyelashes and his lips have already turned purple from the cold water. But his gaze is as hot as molten lava. He presses his erection against my belly and my nipples turn as hard as pebbles when they brush against his chest.
“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this?” His raspy voice feels like a velvet caress against my skin.
He keeps one arm wound tight around my waist while his free hand slides down my belly toward my center. I gasp when his fingers swipe against my clit, one, two, three times. I clasp my hands behind his neck and wrap my legs around his hips, opening myself to him.
He hisses when I curl my fingers around his cock.
“I can imagine,” I say before I kiss him.
His tongue tangles with mine in the same intoxicating rhythm of his fingers rubbing my core. I feel us moving, but I refuse to open my eyes until my back hits the edge of the pool. I increase the friction on his shaft when he inserts two fingers inside of me while his thumb keeps the pressure on my clit. God, this feels fucking amazing.
He groans against my mouth and pulls back, forcing me to open my eyes.
“What?” I ask.
“I want to taste you.” He brings the fingers that were inside of me to his mouth, licking them slowly. “Fucking delicious, but I want more.”
He grabs me by the hips and lifts me up until my body is half out of the pool and I’m sitting on one of the pool steps. I shiver from the cold but I can’t complain, not when Oliver places a kiss to the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to where I so desperately need him to be.
He sprawls his hand over my pubic bone and with his thumb, he flicks my clit. “I’m going to eat your pussy until you can’t see straight.”
I close my eyes and lean on my elbows when his tongue circles my most sensitive place, licking and sucking me into oblivion. He fucks me with his fingers, with his tongue, with his lips, and true to his words, I can’t see straight by the time the mother of all orgasms hits me like a freight train. I scream all profanities known to man as I come harder than I ever had before.
He brings me back into the pool and flush against his body while his hands rub up and down my arms. Not that it is helping anything. The pool is still as cold as ice.
“I’m sorry, sugar.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For making you a human popsicle, a fucking delicious human popsicle might I add.”
I lick the base of this throat and up to his chin. “Let’s get out of this pool so you can warm me up properly.”
He cups the back of my head before he crushes his lips to mine. I can taste myself on his tongue and I don’t mind one bit. But I am freaking cold, so I begin to swim backwards, toward the stairs. Oliver lets go of my lips only long enough for us to get out of the pool, but as soon as we’re on the deck, I’m in his arms again. He lowers me to a chaise longue and goes in search of something on the floor.
“Where are you going?”
“Aha!” he says.
He picks his jeans up from the floor and from inside one of the pockets, he fishes a foil packet out. Of course he’s prepared. He wouldn’t be Oliver otherwise. Not that I don’t have a couple of condoms in my purse too.
“I’m cold.” I pout.
Oliver gives me a crooked smile. “Not for long.”
I watch him move closer and my core throbs in anticipation. God, the man is beautiful. His chest is wide, defined, and smooth. His washboard abs end in that sexy as hell V. And his face… don’t get me started on his face. It’s a carved masterpiece, perfect edges and angles, topped with a delicious, devious mouth. It’s easy to see why millions of women worship the ground he steps on.
He stops next to the chair and I grab his cock, licking it from its base to the tip. Oliver hisses when I wrap my lips around him, bringing his erection fully into my mouth, but he only lets me suck him for a few seconds before he pulls back.
“I can’t let you finish me off like this, sugar. I need to fuck you properly or I’m going to lose my mind.”
He tears the condom foil with his teeth and puts it on. I lean back on the chair and bring my knees up, spreading myself to him. I bring my middle finger to my mouth and lick it before sliding it down my belly to play with myself.
“I’m still so very cold.”
He’s on top of me before I can blink, settling between my legs like he has always belonged there. I feel the tip of his erection at my entrance and Oliver whispers in my ear.
“Gentle or hard?”
“What kind of question is that? Hard, fuck me hard.”
With one powerful stroke, he rams into my body, filling me, claiming me, and ultimately, destroying me.
Sixteen
OLIVER
I’m no stranger to waking up next to a naked woman. Some guys I know usually fuck and toss their dates out as soon as the condom is in the bin. No exceptions. I’m not that strict with my rules. If the lay is good, I don’t mind letting them sleep in, it usually means a reprise in the morning. But again, I never bring random women to my apartment. I only fuck in 5-star hotel rooms. It’s much easier to bail when I’m not in the mood to stick around.
So, I guess this is the first time I’ve slept with someone in my own place. After I fucked Saylor’s brains out in the pool area, we moved the party to the master suite. I’m glad that the house is furnished, the king sized bed came in handy. While our first round was intense and rough, I took it slow the second time. And the third time. It was so worth it to see Saylor fall apart under me several times before I came myself.
She’s sleeping on her side with her back to me. I move closer and press my already hard cock against her perfectly shaped ass. The feel of her warm skin against mine makes some foreign emotion unfurl in my chest. This is definitely more than just a case of morning wood. She stirs when my fingers slide between her legs, finding her core already soaking wet. I kiss her shoulder and insert one finger into her hot pussy. She gasps in pleasure right before she pushes my hand away and sits up. Maybe she needs to use the loo. But when she looks over her shoulder at me, her gaze is detached and devoid of any heat. That’s my usual go-to expression after a one-night stand. So this is how it feels to be on the receiving end of that cold glare, like a punch in the gut.
“I’ve got to get to work.” She stands up, giving me a perfect view of her round ass.
“The restaurant doesn’t open for breakfast.”
She ignores my remark and walks toward the bathroom. “I need a shower.”
She disappears inside and I have the sensation I’m stuck in The Twilight Zone. What the fuck just happe
ned? Her face might say one thing, but her body tells me a different story. She wants me. So why is she giving me the cold shoulder treatment?
I throw my legs to the side of the bed and get up, striding toward the bathroom. The room is already steamy and I find Saylor inside the massive, double headed shower. She has her hands braced against the wall and her head dipped between her shoulders. She doesn’t hear when I get into the shower and when I hug her from behind, her body tenses up. I lean closer to whisper in her ear.
“Why are you running away from me?”
“I’m not.”
“Liar.” I spin her around to look at her face. She holds my gaze in defiance, but in the depths of her eyes, I see something else.
“What’s the matter, sugar? Having morning after regrets already?”
“No.”
“Then what’s with the cold attitude?”
“I’m just making it easier for you, for us. This was a one-night stand. Let’s not complicate things.”
Complicated is the last thing I want, but I’m fooling myself if I think for one second that things with Saylor won’t be a cluster fuck of complications. I thought that sleeping with her would cure my obsession. No such thing. I still want her just as much, if not more than before. I’m going to burn in hell for this. Chances are, none of us will escape this situation unscathed, but I still want to plunge in head first.
“I had fun, you had fun. There’s no reason why it should be a one-time deal.” I brush my thumb over her clit to make my point. She trembles under my touch and I smile.
“There are a million reasons,” she says but contradicts her words when she runs her tongue up my neck before biting my earlobe.
I plunge a finger inside of her and kiss her hard. She answers me in the same feral manner, a dance of tongue and teeth. I plunge another finger in and she moans against my lips. Fuck, I wish I had a condom here. I need to be inside of her, desperately. She curls her fingers around my cock and begins to pump my shaft up and down. We kiss and touch each other as if we’re about to die. The heat is all consuming, it makes me forget everything. All that matters is Saylor, her mouth, her pussy, how she makes the hole in my chest less noticeable. She’s a drug, the most amazing high I have ever experienced. I come hard, right after her, and I’m hit with a moment of clarity. I’m not walking away from this, from her. It will fuck me up in the end, but I will enjoy every moment of this crazy ride while it lasts.
Seventeen
SAYLOR - A WEEK LATER
I thought Oliver and I would be over after one night. I was banking on it. A manwhore of his caliber only wants what he can’t have. I gave in. He should have walked away and left me alone. That was what I’d bargained for, one evening of crazy, wild sex, and nothing more. I didn’t expect him to be greedy, to want more. Hell, I didn’t expect me to want more either.
There are no illusions here. We are not a couple. But we aren’t fuck buddies either because we are not friends. To be honest, I don’t know what we are, only that we have amazing chemistry in bed. God, I have had more orgasms in the past week than in my entire life.
We both agreed on two rules. Number one we wouldn’t tell a soul about us, not even Liv and Sebastian, especially Liv and Sebastian. We don’t want our friends caught in the middle when this thing crashes and burns.
Do I like that I have to lie to my best friend? No, I fucking hate it. But I can’t create tension between Liv and Sebastian. It wouldn’t be fair. Ten percent of the time, I feel guilty for not telling Liv about Oliver, but the other ninety percent, I’m enjoying the excitement. Does that make me a horrible person? Perhaps. But right now, I’m giving myself permission to be selfish. Remi is the only person who knows, but she’s under mortal threat to not tell a soul.
Rule number two, and this was the deal breaker for me. No sleeping with other people while we are seeing each other. I don’t share. I was surprised when Oliver agreed without batting an eyelid.
Besides the mind blowing sex, there’s another good thing about our arrangement, it’s distracting me from the most crucial decision of my life. When I’m with Oliver it’s easy to forget that I might die at any moment.
Tonight, things are about to get more complicated. Oliver has gotten it into his thick head that he wants to come to Wreck of the Day’s practice. My bandmates will know that I’m sleeping with him the moment they see us together. We may as well be carrying a neon sign. Or maybe it’s the fact that Oliver can’t hide the dirty thoughts running through his head when he’s around me. His come-hither looks get so intense that they can make me combust on the spot.
Oliver insists on driving to Tabatha’s place where we practice in her parent’s garage. I usually don’t dress up for those, but since we’re going to sort of come out to the band against my better judgment, I decide to make his life more difficult. I greet him in front of Remi’s house wearing a mini leather skirt and fuck-me-heels.
Oliver is casually leaning against his car with arms crossed in front of his chest, but the moment his eyes land on me, he stands up straighter and his jaw slackens. His reaction makes me feel powerful, the queen of the fucking world. There stands one of the sexiest, most desired men on the planet and he is burning for me. I can feel his raw need rolling off in waves. I can practically see all the wicked scenarios he’s playing in his head. Wait until he finds out that I’m not wearing underwear. Fuck, I’m wet already thinking about it. I fight the urge to rub my legs together. My plan to drive him insane is already backfiring.
Oliver takes a step in my direction, but I give him a wide berth, and walk around to the other side of the car. When I slide onto the seat, the leather skirt hikes up, showing even more skin.
“Is that for my benefit?” He licks his lips.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
He connects his gaze with mine and my skittered heartbeat becomes even more out of synch. Oliver peels his eyes from my face and puts the car in gear. The loud rumble reverberates through the interior and fills my ears. He likes powerful engines and I like men who can handle them. I’ve always had a soft spot for daredevils. We ride in silence for a minute, both trying to ignore the stretched-thin sexual tension in the car by pretending to listen to the radio. I couldn’t tell what’s playing if someone asked me. When we stop at a red traffic light, Oliver speaks.
“Did I ever tell you how pissed I was that they didn’t have this car model in manual shift?”
I look at him, not knowing where he’s going with this conversation. “Couldn’t you go to another dealership?”
“Probably. But I’m glad I didn’t because now,” he pauses and places his right hand on my thigh. “I can multi-task,” he continues.
The light turns green and Oliver stomps on the gas pedal at the same time his hand inches up until the tips of his fingers brush against my throbbing core. “Fuck me,” he breathes out as he inserts a finger inside me while his thumb puts pressure on my clit. “Are you trying to be late for your practice?”
I close my eyes and hum. The pressure down below is already climbing to the point of no return. God, this man has magical fingers.
“Fuck, sugar. You’re so wet. You have no idea how much I want to eat your pussy right now.”
I brace my hand against the door and open my legs further. “More fingers, please.”
I hear a groan from Oliver, but he complies, putting two more fingers in and pumping me faster. The orgasm hits in the next second, hard and swift. I throw my head back and let out a string of incoherent words while my nails scratch the leather seat. Once my body recovers from the high, I blink my eyes open as I try to catch my breath. I turn to Oliver who has an eat-shit grin on his face. When the car stops once more, he pulls his hand away, and sucks my juices from his fingers.
“Fucking delicious,” he says.
We drive by a Super 8 Motel and I almost ask Oliver to make a U-turn and get us a room. I’m so horny I don’t think I will be able to walk straight. He glances at me briefly and seems to read
my mind.
“Just say the word.”
I shake my head to disperse the lustful thoughts. If I arrive late to practice, Tabatha will kill me. We have a rule to never let a guy interfere with Wreck of the Day. If we want to make it big someday, all band members must have ruthless focus. It doesn’t escape my notice that Oliver is already messing with my priorities.
Taking a deep breath, I force my gaze away from his and look out the window. “We’re almost there.”
“You’ll be the death of me, sugar.”
A tiny smile tugs the corners of my mouth. I will never admit it out loud, but I love when he calls me that. Such a stupid emotion, I don’t know why I don’t stomp on it until it dies. I cannot afford to let Oliver get under my skin. I’m already dying for real, I don’t need to die of heartache as well.
We finally park in front of Tabatha’s place and I see that I’m the last one to arrive. The clock on the dashboard indicates that I’m late. Just freaking great. I unbuckle my seat belt, but before I can open the door, Oliver takes my hand and pulls me across the gap that separates us, kissing me hard. Instead of pushing him away, I move closer and my hands clasp behind his neck. His tongue explores my mouth in a deliberate dance, slow and sensual. It wrecks my ability to think straight. We should have stopped at that motel.
Gasping, I break the kiss and put my hands on his chest so he can’t follow me. His hooded eyes hold the promise of many orgasms to come, but they will have to wait. I get out of the car before I lose my nerve, fixing my clothes and hair in a vain attempt to disguise my sexed up appearance.
The garage door is closed, so I take the path that leads to the side of the house and before I open the unlocked door, I can hear the girls warming up their instruments. I walk in and without turning to glance in my direction, Tabatha tells me I’m late.
“Only five minutes. Give me a break.”
