“Olivia,” he says. “I’m going to fuck you now. It will be hard and fast. If I flip you over, are you strong enough to get on your hands and knees?”
Words. Why does every word that comes out of this man’s mouth piss me off? How is it possible thatthosewords can cause me to seethe with anger?
I lift myself up onto my elbows. “I’m a dancer. I’m strong enough to do whatever my body needs to do.”I lifted myself up!
He’s grinning at me. “That’s my girl.”
He meant to get a rise out of me,the bastard!
Just when I’m opening my mouth to complain—because how dare he understand me—he grabs me by my hips and flips me onto my stomach, drags me closer to him as he kneels on the bed behind me, and yanks me back so I’m on my hands and knees. He’sthere. He’s there at my entrance. I take a deep breath, and in he goes.
The sharp pain isn’t pain, really. It’s the uncomfortable relief of finally getting what I want and knowing that once won’t be enough.
We both make such loud, angry, animal sounds as he slams into me. After so much back and forth over so many years of circling each other and flicking at each other’s brains, when we finally come together, it’s just carnal. Thrusting and skin slapping and chaotic, joyful, anguished screams. I have never cared so little about what my body looks like or what position it’s in. At this moment, all I want is for Johnny to explode inside me.
I just wish I could see him. His fingers dig into the flesh of my hip, and one hand grips my shoulder for leverage. He is impaling me, and I can take it. He pounds into me. It sounds like he’s losing control, like he’s out of breath. Like he can’t get enough, but he can’t hold on much longer. I push back into him with each thrust.
He slows down, and just as I’m about to open my mouth to taunt him, he drags his fingernails down my back and slaps the side of my ass.
I shudder, clenching around him.
Why did that feel so good?
He reaches around to rub my clit as he starts pumping into me again.
Goddammit.
He’s making me come again.
Oh, shit, we’re going to come together.
His groan is desperate and beautiful.
I cry out in defeat because he has more control over my body than I do.
This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want to do it again.
I collapse onto my stomach and feel the weight of him on my back. John’s hot breath on the side of my face. His sweaty skin pressed against mine. His heartbeat, the liquid heat of his cum inside the condom, his cock that’s still inside me. I can’t see him, but this is the closest I’ve ever felt to him.
I stretch my arms down and out, and his fingers entwine with mine.
I don’t know what time it is, but he’d better not get up and go anywhere.
I feel his lips on my shoulder. My hair is probably in his mouth, but he kisses and kisses and kisses me before going still and resting his face next to mine.
We didn’t have sex with each other for the first time—we split the atom. The world has changed. It is more dangerous but also filled with possibilities that we don’t understand yet.
Or maybe I had just never been fucked properly before.
I imagine this is what it would have been like to see Martha Graham dance in her time. You think you know what it means to move the body to music, and thenblammo, a revolution, and the body can show the world what it means to be human.
Johnny takes a deep breath and then says into my ear, “Well. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Don’t fuck with my jet-lag protocol.”
CHAPTER 17
JOHN
Iflew over five thousand miles to meet with these very anxious food-tech founders face-to-face so I can tour the London facility and assure them that I will land George Merrick as CTO to save their business, but all I can think about is Olivia’s naked body.
