Good.I want her to understand that no part of me is hers to reach for anymore.
Mother is still greeting donors, her laugh bright and effortless. Father has a senator by the elbow, nodding along with that patient, patrician ease he’s perfected over decades. The room buzzes with conversation and applause and clinking glassware—all of it polished, choreographed, contained.
But I am done performing.
The taste of Olivia is still on my tongue; the imprint of her trembling beneath my hands still hums along every nerve. Standing here is suddenly unbearable—too bright, too public, too far from where I want her.
A small gap opens in the crowd. The path toward the archway clears like a door swinging wide.
That’s all the permission I need.
I guide Olivia forward with a hand at her back—possession threaded with restraint, the only outlet I’m allowing myself until I have her alone again.
She glances up at me, cheeks still flushed from the cameras, unaware of the storm I’m holding back. That soft, trusting look nearly undoes me.
I steer us toward the archway, each step an act of will.
I’m half-delirious with need, with the memory of her legs trembling around my shoulders, with the knowledge that she chose me again and again tonight—publicly, fiercely, without hesitation.
I can’t spend another moment in this crowd.
Ineedher. And I’m done pretending otherwise.
The moment we step outside, the night air cuts in—cool and bracing, welcome after the heat simmering under my skin. Marble throws the flash of cameras back at us in hard bursts of light. Voices call our names. The whole sidewalk buzzes.
I keep my hand at the small of Olivia’s back, steering her through the noise until the black Rolls-Royce glides to a stop at the curb.
The driver steps out and opens the door. Olivia slips in first; I follow, reaching past her to hit the privacy control, the screen rising and sealing us off from the world.
Before she can even turn to face me, the last of my control slips and I’m hauling her into my lap.
Her breath catches—a soft, startled sound that melts into a low laugh, warm against my throat.
“Needy, aren’t you?” she teases, her lips brushing my ear. “Still so hungry even after making a feast of me?”
“Starving,” I breathe, the word dragging out of me like it’s been trapped behind my teeth. I kiss along the column of her neck. She tilts her head, offering me more. “Can I have you now?” My voice scrapes out of me.
“Yes, my sweet boy.” Her fingers slide into my hair, stroking the back of my head. The touch hits like a current. I shudder helplessly. “I promised you, didn’t I?”
“Fuck…yes.” My grip tightens on her hips. “I deserve it. I was so good for you, wasn’t I?”
I pull back to see her face. I need to know she means it.
The cabin light brushes over her features, soft and devastating. It knocks the breath right out of me.
She cups my cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “Shh,” she soothes. Then, another gentle stroke along my jaw. “Yes, you were perfect, my love. You made me feel so good. As only you can.”
The words land deep, settling into the part of me that still fears losing her.
Her hand drifts down between us, fingers finding my belt.
“Take it,” she whispers. “You’ve earned it.”
I cover her hand with mine, fumbling to help even though she hardly needs me. She laughs, amused by how clumsy I’ve become in my haste, and keeps working the buckle open.
She lifts her hips a little to give me room. I tug everything down in one rough motion, just far enough, the need in me too sharp to bother with grace.
My cock springs free, hard and gleaming with precum.
