Olivia is happy, I know, because she removes her shoes and does a leap across the floor. “I love all this open space!”
“Good. I had a ballet barre set up in the home gym.”
She stops in her tracks. “You did? Really?”
“Yes, really.”
She skips over to me and puts her hand on my back, leaning into me. “What else did you set up for me?”
I grin and wink at her. “You’ll see.” I can’t wait for her to find out.
I check my watch when I hear the hysterical shrieking from the guest bedroom. It’s after midnight. Which means it’s after 8:00 a.m. in London. Which means Alfie and Baxter have a meeting with suppliers in an hour, and they’re panicking because I haven’t given them an update on their budget yet. Which means my very anxious young British founders will be calling soon if I don’t get this email sent first to assuage them.
I’m at the desk in my bedroom, wearing pajama bottoms, working on my laptop. After spending nearly an entire hour luxuriating in the guest bathroom, Olivia has finally climbed into bed and felt the cold rubber snakes against her bare legs and feet.
Step Three-B is a go. She will learn that she can have my heart, but I will remain in control of my senses. I have mastered my desires and impulses through mental and physical discipline.
“Motherfucker!” she yells out. I know she’s stomping down the hall, though her bare feet hardly make a sound. I remain focused on my email when she strides through the open door, swearing like a marine. “You massive turd! I almost had a heart attack!”
Keeping my eyes trained on the monitor, I can’t hide my delight. “Which is what I kept telling you every time you did that to me,” I say calmly.
She pummels me with her adorable fists. Laughing, but there’s anger there. Or maybe it’s just adrenaline. “Don’t you dare ignore me, Nerdballs!” She smacks my shoulder.
So spicy.
“I have to get this email out, Olivia,” I say as I turn toward her.
And that was my mistake.
I should not have looked at her until I had finished writing and hit Send on that email.
Because she’s wearing a tiny cropped T-shirt and flimsy little shorts. And there’s underboob. Underboob is the most underrated part of the boob. It has always been my second-favorite boob area, and I was not expecting to come face-to-face with the underparts of either of Olivia’s boobs tonight.
This presents some challenges.
Suddenly, I am not the rational billionaire genius VC who finally got revenge on his best friend’s little sister.
Suddenly I am the college student who can’t make it through a family dinner without splooshing into a hand towel.
Olivia’s fists are on her hips, and her chest is heaving, and her underboobs are boobing, and—fuck it.
I stand, remove my glasses, pick up my tiny dancer by her waist, and toss her onto my bed. She is so adept at soaring through the air, she lands on the mattress gracefully, with her toes pointed. Her little T-shirt flips up, and I see God for one second. Her nipples are pinker than I thought they would be. My vision isn’t crystal clear right now, but her tits are fucking magnificent.
She sits up, but that’s fine too, because underboob. Her eyes are hooded, and she’s staring at my bare chest and abs as I climbonto the bed and kneel between her spread legs, pushing her shoulders back and pinning her down. Hovering over her, I keep my gaze fixed on her flushed face. Her hair is damp from her bath. She smells fresh and clean, and I bet her pussy tastes so good right now. She lifts her head up to kiss me, but I jerk back, teasing her. Her eyes flash with excitement. Her body is so tense.
Shelikesto be teased.
I thought so.
Olivia tries to kiss me again, making a little growling sound. So feisty. I grab her wrists and hold them down over her head. Which was a brilliant mistake, because underboob. She is fucking glorious, up for a fight, but I lower myself and disarm her by kissing her mouth softly, slowly. My tongue is unhurried, but I know where it’s heading. She writhes around, making little animal sounds as she nips at my lower lip. She moans as I kiss her, so deeply. When she sucks my tongue, it disarms me.
She manages to flip me over and straddle me. We are both breathing so heavily. This is a battle that I’m determined yet reluctant to win, but I’m not done engaging with my opponent yet. She wriggles around over the hard bulge in my pajama pants. Her eyelids flutter closed as she bears down on me.
I let loose a groan, and then she does the meanest, best thing anyone has ever done while straddling me. She opens her eyes, full of want and dare. She smirks at me, lifts her T-shirt up to expose her breasts, and rocks her hips. I hold my breath because I want everything all at once. But I also want to experience each part of her slowly, with the awe and attention that every single part of her deserves. I reach for those perfect tits and massage them while she rides me.
“You’re a fucking gorgeous menace.”
“Yes.”
