He gets to the last letter, his ears turning a deep shade of red. “And this one…” He hesitates, looking down before meeting my eyes. “This one is from when I took over Jamie and made you come.”
My cheeks warm, undoubtedly as red as his ears, as my mind wanders to that night.
“I’d explore every part of you, Amelia. Learning what makes you shiver, what makes you moan. I’d kiss your neck, your shoulders, anywhere I could reach. I’d want to know you, completely.”
Heat floods through me, and I have to press my thighs together, remembering how husky his voice was.
“Touch yourself for me, Amelia. Imagine my hands are guiding yours. Show me what you want me to do to you.”
Panting, I look up to find Oliver sitting even closer beside me, his hands nervously resting in his lap.
“Yeah, about that…” I begin but trail off because I have no idea how to broach the subject.
Oliver takes a deep breath. “I never intended it to be… what you probably think this was. You said you needed me, and I needed you. I wanted to give you what you were asking for. But I understand that intention versus impact are two very different things. My brain short-circuited, and I just… I know it’s the worst thing that we did. I mean, besides that one time we listened in on you getting off with your toy.”
Wait, what?
My eyes widen. “You did what?”
“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Right, I haven’t told you about that. Yeah, um, that first weekend you had Jamie?”
“Oh my God,” I whisper, thinking back to when I did some self-care thinking about them after the gym.
But there’s something else—something I can’t quite place.
Why does the thought of them listening to me getting off give me fanny flutters?
“Yeah, that was bad too. But what I did was definitely the worst thing we did. And I would do anything to make it right,” Oliver says, his eyes filled with earnest regret.
Surprisingly, I’m not mad about it anymore.
Was I ever really mad?
I had told Jamie, or rather Oliver, that I needed him. If Oliver had been there with me, I would have wanted him to do the same. It wasn’t like it wasn’t consensual, even if I didn’t know it was really happening and not just a fantasy. I could have just stood up and gone back to bed when Jamie offered, but I didn’t because I wanted it to be real so badly.
Deep down, I had wanted it to be Oliver.
Maybe it’s even better that it wasn’t an AI getting me off.
“Did you touch yourself while you made me come?” I ask, too curious for my own sake.
Fuck, that would be hot.
His eyes go wide. “No, Amelia. I swear I didn’t. It was all about you. I didn’t want to use you like that without your knowledge.”
What a pity.
Time to rectify.
“You said you’d do anything to make this right?”
He cups my cheek. “Anything, Amelia. Tell me what you need to forgive me, and I’ll do it.”
I have a few things in mind, but we need actual privacy. “You said Grey and Misha are watching?”
“Probably, they’re making sure nobody else can,” Oliver replies a bit sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I just now realized that they’re doing what we said we wouldn’t anymore.”
Taking out my phone, I text Grey.
