Our driver blasts the music, maybe sensing that things could get out of hand, but instead, we sit as far as possible from one another, on opposite sides of the back seat, silent. The only way I can tell he’s affected is by the clenching of his jaw, the muscles on the side of his face tensing. His hand twitches in a fist by his side.
Finally, he breaks our silence. “This is a terrible idea,” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear above the music.
“Actually, I think this is a fantastic idea,” I tell him.
“—not mutually exclusive,” I think I hear him mutter.
I’m already sick of talking about this.
“I think for this to happen, we need to set some ground rules,” he tells me.
I roll my eyes. “You want me to make a rubric for our performances?”
He ignores me. “This happens once. Tonight. We get it out of our systems. We don’t continue, catch feelings?—”
“To be clear, I still think you’re annoying as hell?—”
“—we obviously can’t tell anyone about this. No sign that this happened at work. No looking, no touching, no anything at school.”
“So I’m not blowing you under your desk, got it.”
He gazes at my mouth then, eyes molten. I send a blessing up to Rihanna and her Fenty line of lipstick. “As much as I’ve dreamed of that, no.”
I chuckle. “As sick and twisted as I may be, Oliver, I wouldn’t do anything when there are children running around a few feet outside the door of your office. That’s where I draw the line.”
He hasn’t stopped looking at me. “Where else do you draw the line, then, Georgia?”
“Is this the part where we talk about boundaries and safe words?”
“I can be… a bit much,” he says, glancing all over my body. I shiver, imagining his mouth all over it. “I need a certain amount of… control. I’ll need some very clear boundaries from your body before I use it.”
My breasts feel heavy, tips hard, over his choice of words. He notices. “Does that make you wet, Georgia?” he murmurs, reaching over to run his fingers over the outline of my nipple, as if it belongs to him. “The idea of me using your body? Teaching that smart mouth a lesson?”
I whimper. “I… like that. I like the idea of you being in control. Punishing me. I’ve thought about it every day since this weekend.”
Oliver’s entire body is now twisted towards me, eyes zeroing in on my chest, watching his hand play with my breasts, plucking and tweaking and massaging. It feels as if they are connected directly to my clit, nerve endings alive in my jeans.
I squirm in my seat to give myself some relief, thenremember that we are in the middle of a conversation. “No pain, or anything, no severe pain, but I—oh—” I say, rambling, when he pinches my nipple and twists it. “Well, maybe a little—I guess—I like that, more, again.” I can’t think; I’m all feeling, no coherence.
I slap his hand away, needing a second to concentrate. I look him dead in the eyes. “Let’s just communicate throughout this. Just promise to listen to me if I say to stop or slow down.”
He nods once.
“Otherwise, it’s your body, now,” I tell him. “Use it as you’d like.”
Oliver slams the front door of my apartment shut the moment we’re through. He advances towards me, a lion stalking its prey with his golden feline eyes. “Is Eloise home?” he asks me.
My mouth is dry when I answer. “No… she’s on vacation. In Europe, for a month.”
He smiles then, sinister, moving forward to wrap his hand around the back of my neck and pulling my face towards his.
Nowthis, this is more of what I was expecting. Our mouths collide, finally,finally, and it’s electric, hungry, open-mouthed, and borderline sloppy, at odds with his self-reported control. He devours me, demanding. His tongue expertly explores the inside of my mouth, claiming every inch as his. I meet him stroke for stroke, the feeling of our tongues tangling together, sending sparks throughout my entire body.More, more, more.
He growls deep in his throat, and bites my bottom lip, reading my mind. I feel both of his hands wrap around my ass, lewdly squeezing and spreading my cheeks, and suddenly I amairborne. He lifts me, turns us, and slams me against the front door, our mouths never leaving one another.
He wedges his hardness, an impressively sized one, from what I gathered back at Tim’s, into where I need most, grinding and hitting the perfect spot. He pins me to the door with his hips so he can use his hands.
He winds one hand through my hair, close to the scalp, yanking my head to the side so he can have access to my throat. “I’ve dreamed of seeing this fucking hair wrapped between my fingers,” he tells me, licking one long stripe up my throat, from bottom to top, before nipping and kissing the sensitive spot underneath my ear. My eyes roll to the back of my head.
