I almost stomp my foot in irritation. “Why?”
“I don’t have a condom.”
My eyes widen. “You don’t have a condom?” Who would start this knowing they didn’t have a condom?
“There’s not exactly a pocket for one in my snowsuit.”
Right.
I’m the assistantwho had to give the safe sex talk to all the athletes before they got here. It probably wouldn’t look good if I had a quickie in a supply closet and didn’t at least use a condom. We gave them out in droves. Each athlete had a handful in their welcome gift bag and we stuck some in every drawer in every room. It’s actually a little creepy having to spend so much time distributing Gold Medal logoedcondoms to everyone when you first meet them. Like we’re going to a bachelorette party and not the most watched sporting event of the year.
If only I had one of those damn gift bags now.
My eyes slide across the room possibly looking for a spare one somewhere. I don’t find a gift bag full of condoms and fitness trackers, but what I do find is better.
“Oliver, look.” I point to a box behindhis head. One clearly labeled Logo Condoms. Only the Gold Medal events would pass out condoms with their own logo on it. “Check the box and see if it really is.”
“Do you think they’re safe?” he asks looking at the box but not getting closer. “I kind of thought they were gag condoms.”
I hit him on the shoulder. “We didn’t provide you with gag condoms.” What is he thinking? The US officials don’twant any more little babies running around as it is. They might be wrapped up ridiculously with the two gold bars but they came from one of the most trusted condom makers in the world.
With my insistence and another slap on his shoulder, Oliver walks over to the box and tips it sideways to look inside. When he pulls out his hand, three condoms are in it. “I don’t think we need so many,” I saywhen he sticks two in the pocket of his athletic pants.
“Best to be prepared.” He stalks — yes stalks to where I stand by the shelf. His eyes are dead set on mine, a small smirk creeping up his face like a lion who knows he’s caught his pray.
I suddenly have a case of nerves. “Are you sure we should do this?” He has a race in less than two hours. This might not be the time for such extracurricularactivities.
Oliver laughs. “This is better than skee-ball. We’re absolutely doing it.” He tears the top of the condom off and finishes wrapping himself up before he steps into me and my back hits the shelf.
“I’m totally sure.” He pulls a piece of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. The long high-heeled shoes I’m wearing put me almost at his level and I stare into his eyes as he asks, “As longas you’re sure too.”
My fingers graze the side of his chin as I pull his head closer, forcing him to kiss me. “I’m sure.”
Oliver stands in front of me but doesn’t do anything next.
“Then you have to take off your pants,” he whispers in my ear.
Oh right. The pants. I hurry to undo my zipper and push my pants down my legs without seeing what I’m doing because my eyes are focused on Oliver ashe lazily pumps his shaft up and down. Each time I see his strong hand tight against his hard dick, my insides spasm. I’m normally an “in the bed, in the dark” kind of girl, but I want Oliver. Here and now.
My pants on the floor, I step out, pushing them to the side. Oliver uses one hand to brace himself against the metal shelving. This is it. My heart beats against my chest in excitement andnervousness. His hand dips in my underwear and he rubs down my pubic bone, over my clit, and between my folds.
Moisture pulls at my core as Oliver licks his lips, his hungry eyes staring into mine. “You’re so wet I don’t even get the chance to have a taste.”
Oh God. My insides clench at his words, my legs try to come together, but his hand is in between them. “I’m sorry,” I say unsure whetherthat’s a proper response. I’ve never had someone say something so simple yet dirty.
He chuckles. “Next time.”
The tip of his dick tweaks my clit before he finds his target and, lifting one of my legs up and around his hip, he pushes deep inside.
“Oh shit, you’re tight.” He lifts my leg higher, wrapping it around his back and setting his hand on my hip. The new position opens me wider, but mysex stretches with his girth.
He corrects my body, pushing me up until to my hips are closer to his, and slips the rest of the way inside. It’s so tight and he’s so deep I worry it will be uncomfortable when he doesn’t give me a second to adjust to his size. But my worries are unfounded once he sets a slow and steady pace.
My body moves with his, my head hitting the back of one shelf as I workhard to balance myself on a single foot. It doesn’t take long until he is holding up most of my body weight, with one hand keeping my leg in the air and the other on my back, the shelves of the steel push into my skin. But I don’t care. Oliver’s thrusts pick up, his pubic bone hitting where I need it to. My head falls back and his tongue licks at the exposed area.
The shelves rattle and a boxfalls off the second one, forks spreading across the floor.
“We’ve got to hurry.” Oliver sucks at my neck.
