“Yes, Sir.” I answer immediately because I’m so desperate for him. I glance down at his dick and see precum glistening on the tip, making me lick my lips.
“Fuck, I love it when you look at me like that,” he says as he lifts me and slowly lowers me on his cock. I close my eyes as I stretch around him. This week has sucked, and it’s only Tuesday, but being allowed to be lost in his body and the way he makes me feel, even if it’s only for a few moments, is worth it. “Ride me.” His voice drops to that octave that I love so much.
Placing my hands on his knees, I do as he says, unable to control the sounds coming from my throat. He said this was going to be quick, so I don’t try to be slow. I tilt my head back and enjoy how full he makes me feel. I swear if I looked down, I could see the outline of him in my stomach. That thought makes me stutter.
What would it be like to have his children? What would it be like to have little Victors or Olivias running around?
I swallow around the lump forming in my throat. This was supposed to be quick and explosive. Not emotional. But the ball of feelings that stalled out the other night when he was asking me all of those questions begins to build as my orgasm builds.
He brings his hand between us and swirls his thumb around my clit. As hard as I try to hold on to my emotions and my orgasm, I’m unsuccessful. I come with a shout just as he does and I place my head on his chest. And for the first time since I found out my mom died, I cry.
Chapter sixty
Victor
It takes me a moment to realize the shaking coming from Olivia isn’t the aftereffects of the orgasm she just had. When she sniffs and tries to climb off my lap and bike, I realize she’s crying. Not reacting right away because I’m so shocked, she almost falls face first on the concrete of the garage, trying to get off or run away. Quickly wrapping my arms around her, I steady her.
“Treasure?” I whisper, trying to get a glimpse of her face, but she refuses to look at me.
“C-can you…” She stops talking, the words stuck in her throat as emotion continues to swell within her. Finally reacting, I lift her and place her gently on the ground and when she tries to run off, I wrap my hand loosely around her wrist to stop her.
“Stay there, treasure.” I’m using my Dom voice and by the look in her eyes, this time she doesn’t like it. Tough shit. She’s goingto tell me what’s wrong. I climb off the bike, trying not to focus on the fact that I still feel the remnants of her cum and mine on my dick. I’ve wanted to tell her about that fantasy for a while now, but the opportunity never presented itself.
I’ve asked her once to go riding with me, but the fear of Donovan stopped her, so I never broached the subject again. Once I get rid of Donovan, I know she will go with me. It’s not the bike or the riding that scares her, it’s the being exposed to someone who might kill her that scares her. After I tuck myself back into my pants, I intertwine our fingers and lead her into the house.
Tears are still streaming down her cheeks and she’s silently hiccuping every few seconds. It looks like now that the dam has broken, she can’t get it to stop, which is good. Even if she obviously hates it. I glance at her over my shoulder as we walk through the kitchen. She keeps her head down and continues to wipe at her cheeks. With each swipe of her hand, the frustration of not being able to stop is seeping through.
When we get to the bedroom, my first instinct is to take her to the bathroom and clean her up. Instead, I step into my Dominant role, then take in my submissive and what she needs. Olivia is still trying to wipe her tears away and control her hiccups. It’s time for her to allow herself to grieve. For her mom, for herself, and for the life and innocence she lost.
“Take your dress, panties, and bra off and get on the bed,” I tell her.
Her eyes snap to mine. This is the first time she’s looked at me since she started crying. I force myself not to react to the pain and sadness on her face. When she sees I’m not joking, she slowly lowers her hands to the edge of her dress and pulls it over her head.
Unhooking her bra, it falls onto the floor next to her dress. My eyes take in her rosy nipples, but I fight the urge to touchher. She glances at me one more time, her eyes still shimmering with tears, and I arch an eyebrow. She quickly lowers her eyes and pushes her panties down. Just moments ago, I had those pushed to the side as she was riding me. Now the atmosphere has shifted.
She’s stopped crying for now, but I can tell by the flush on her chest and neck and the way she’s still sniffling those emotions are still right on the edge of her frayed nerves. With a deep breath, she climbs onto the bed and kneels, placing her hands on her knees to wait for further instructions. I unbutton my shirt and pull it off, dropping it on top of her discarded clothes.
She shifts on the bed and I watch her closely, but she keeps her eyes lowered even though she wants to look at me again. Besides the occasional sniff and slight hiccup, she doesn’t move. I lower my jeans and boxers, then join her on the bed. She inhales deeply, wanting to know what’s about to happen. I kneel in front of her and watch her.
My eyes roam over her from her long eyelashes fluttering occasionally with the need to look up at me, but she fights it every time, to her long black raven hair, the scar on her collarbone that I have to kiss every time I’m having sex with her, to her pert breasts and pebbled nipples, and down to the scars on her abdomen. I reach my fingers out to run my index and middle fingers along the scar at her collarbone.
She sucks in a deep shuddering breath, but doesn’t say anything or stop me. “What’s your safe word, Olivia?” I ask her as I trail my fingers from the scar down to her right tit.
“Red, Sir,” she answers immediately.
“Very good,” I praise her, then take my other hand that’s not teasing her tit right now and place it on her knee. I spread her legs until they form a very wide V, so I can see her pretty pussy. She adjusts herself slightly, which makes her legs spread further apart and gives me an even nicer view. I move my attention toher other tit as I trail the fingers of my other hand up the inside of her thigh.
“I’m going to take a picture of you like this one day. Except your arms will be behind your back, intricately tied together.” I watch in pleasure as wetness drips from her pussy. This turns her on. She loves it when I take control of her body. When I tell her what I’d like to do to her and what fantasies I have about her. Up until recently I haven’t done that. A mistake on my part.
I bring my fingers to her pussy and run them from her opening to her clit. She gasps and moans at the same time and I hum, loving the sound of her desperate for me and the things I can do to her body. In the past when I’ve done orgasm denial, it’s been because she had to beg for it. But this time, it’s going to be because I want answers.
When I slam my fingers into her pussy, she arches her back and cries out. I pluck at her nipple, twisting slightly to cause a little pain, but she pushes into my finger and hand. Next, I hook the fingers inside of her just so and begin to rub relentlessly against her g-spot.
“Why did you start crying?”
This time she can’t help it. Her eyes fly to mine. I remove my hand from her tit and my fingers from her pussy. She whines, but doesn’t say anything. I use the juices from her pussy and wrap my hand around my aching cock and begin to pump it leisurely. Her eyes drop and she watches me in fascination.
“Eyes on me, treasure.” Her eyes come up to me again. “Why did you start crying?” I ask her again.
