He stays on his side and props his head up on his arm. “Let me see,” he says, taking my legs and opening them. I feel his come leak out of me, feel his eyes watching in the dim morning light. “Shit,” he mutters to himself, collecting some with his fingers and pushing it back inside.
He leans down then, for a kiss, and our tongues tangle, mapping one another’s mouths. He kisses my forehead and leans back on his pillow, bringing me to lie in the crook of his arm. Both of us stare at the ceiling while he pets my hair.
I don’t want to stop either, I say to myself, in response to his earlier comment. When I feel his head turn to look at me, his eyes boring into the side of my face, I realize maybe I said that out loud.
He sighs.
I cringe, body tensing. He notices, frowning over at me.What am I saying? I sound like a desperate hag, and I make sure to keep that comment in my head.You get one good dicking down (well, three, technically) and you’re ready to beg him to stay? Snap out of it, Georgia, you don’t need a man tokeep you satisfied. Your vibrator is your best friend (although it was very nice having someone else use it on you while stuffed with his dick)…
“I can feel you thinking over there,” Oliver tells me.
“I’m thinking… that was pretty okay,” I manage.
He laughs. His body relaxes, probably realizing that this conversation won’t have depth. “It was very good.”
“But it probably has to stop.”
He is silent for a moment, regarding the side of my face. “Probably.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but my mouth has other ideas. “My ex never cared if I came. It just wasn’t a priority for him. Sometimes… sometimes I would have to get myself off with my vibrator after he fell asleep next to me.” I wince, suddenly ashamed.
Oliver resumes petting my head. “I’m sorry. That’s unacceptable. What a fuckwad.”
“Yeah. I like that you made sure I came… every time.”
He scoffs. “Of course, Georgia, that’s what a partner is supposed to do. Besides, Ienjoyedgetting you off. It only made me harder.”
We lay there for a bit, neither of us wanting to move.
“Is this it?” Oliver asks me quietly.
I can’t stop fidgeting, unsure of and comfortable with all the feelings in my body. “You tell me, Label Maker. You’re the one intent on following all the rules.”
He gathers me in his arms, squeezing me tight, so that I stop wiggling around. “You’re the only person who has ever made me consider breaking them, Chaos.”
I blossom at that. “What if… what if we set up some ground rules for this? To keep it going? Would that make you feel more comfortable?”
He thinks about that. “Like what?”
“Like… I mean, we’ve already started to a certain extent. Like…keeping it a secret. Everything. Keeping this completely separate from work. Doing our jobs, as if nothing were happening. Fucking after school, or on the weekends.”
“I’m worried that you won’t be able to stop pining after me at work, Georgia, with your horny eyes tracking my every move,” he says, amused.
“Please. Anyone at school with a pulse has horny eyes for you.”
He laughs. It’s becoming my new favorite sound. After the sound he makes when he comes. He takes a deep breath, and I watch his irritatingly sculpted chest rise and fall when he lets it out. “Okay. Okay. I think we can do this with those rules. We’re two consenting adults?—”
“I think we’ve established that we’ve moved past ‘consenting’, especially after I begged you to come on my tits?—”
“—and as long as we keep it a secret,” he continues, pinching my nipple, “I think we can make this work.” He sits up to look at me, and I am overwhelmed by the force of his gaze. His body seems to glow, tanned and strong, illuminated by the dim morning light. “I don’t want to stop this either, Georgia. You’re fucking glorious.”
My cheeks hurt with the force of my smile. I lift my arms, presenting my chest, holding onto my headboard. “Show me how glorious you think I am, then.”
He gives me a small smile, looking at me with something that looks like awe. He leans down and kisses me, open-mouthed, tender, and hot, but he pulls back. “Later tonight, maybe,” he says, standing up.
I clock his entire body, the way his thick, wavy hair is mussed, the sharp angle of his jaw, his arms and chest ropy with muscle, the ridges on his abs, the deep ‘v’ of his hips, his strong thighs. His giant dick, which is currently half-hard and making my mouth water. He leans down to kiss the top of my head. “I have to get to work, and so do you.”
I whine. “Let’s play hooky and call out.”
