I shuffle over, cheeks burning, clutching Lexi like a life raft. When I get close enough he reaches out, hooks a finger in the waistband of my pajamas and tugs me gently forward until my knees bump his.
“No hiding,” Olivier says, voice calm but firm. “You’re beautiful like this. All sleepy and needy.” His hand slides up my thigh, thumb brushing the outline of me through the fabric.
I suck in a breath, hips twitching forward without permission.
“Daddy…” It comes out half-whimper, half-plea.
He smiles, slow and wicked. “Sit.”
I do, straddling his lap carefully, knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips. The position puts me right above him, my erection pressing insistently against his stomach through the layers.
Before I know it, one arm wraps around my lower back, holding me steady, the other hand slips inside my pajama bottoms.
Skin on skin.
I gasp, head dropping forward to rest against his shoulder. His fingers wrap around me—warm, sure, perfect pressure. He strokes once, slow and deliberate, thumb circling the tip where I’m already leaking.
“Such a good boy,” Olivier murmurs against my ear. “Waking up so hard for Daddy.”
I can’t speak.
This is hot.
It’s freaking hotter than the sun.
Words dissolve into little whimpers as he works me—long, steady pulls, twisting at the head just the way I like. My hips rock without conscious thought, chasing his hand. He lets me,encourages it, his free hand sliding up under my shirt to rub circles on my back.
“Look at me,” Olivier orders softly.
I lift my head. His eyes are dark, focused, full of something that makes my chest ache.
“You’re mine,” Olivier says, voice rough. “Every sleepy, horny, beautiful inch of you. Now let it happen. Show Daddy how much you want to cum.”
I nod frantically.
He speeds up, hand slick with pre-cum now.
My thighs tremble, breath hitching.
I’m close—too close—already.
“Please—”
“Let go, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing my temple. “Cum hard for Daddy.”
I feel my ass cheeks tense up. My whole body locks, a broken moan tearing out of me as I spill over his fist, hot pulses that seem to go on forever. He milks every drop, stroking through the aftershocks until I’m shaking and pressed up against him.
When I finally slump, panting, Olivier kisses my forehead, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
“Good boy,” he murmurs. “My perfect boy. Now get that butt in the shower to clean off and I’ll make you some yummy breakfast.”
I stay there, face buried in his neck, Lexi squished between us, heart hammering.
The laptop sits forgotten on the table. The graphs, the numbers, the big decisions—they can wait a little longer. And something tells me that even though it’s not my area of expertise, the reason Olivier was looking at it all might just be related to me in ways I don’t quite know yet…
Chapter 14
Olivier
