Olive pulls away, her breath is warm against the side of my mouth, coming fast and heavy as she pants. She attempts to wriggle free from my hold, but I’ve got a firm grip. She sighs in frustration when she can’t move.
I release her hands, and she fumbles for the waistband of my pants, gliding her fingers along my lower stomach.
I shudder beneath her touch. "Remind me to thank Orlando next time I see him, Mr. Jones. It’s like you’ve just stepped right out of my most wanted fantasy." She pulls her hand away from me, dragging her fingers down her chest, her hand parting her lips as she reaches her pussy. "Touch me, Avery. Find out just what you do to me."
My hand follows hers, and I hiss when I feel just how wet she is for me. "I have one rule while we do this, Olive." I lean down, my body hovering over hers, before I take her mouth in a deep, desperate kiss. I lean back, staring right into those doe eyes. "No other man’s name leaves your mouth when I’m about to be the one to fuck you. When it'smewho gets to make you come."
"So dramatic," she teases, nipping at my bottom lip, her mouth curving into a smile as she kisses me back.
Her hands find my hips, sliding my pants down and over my thighs. "I thought I had time to stop by the drug store before seeing you."
"I came prepared." She rolls over and rummages through the drawer in the nightstand, pulling out a gold-foiled wrapper. A smile pulls at the corner of her lips.
"I hope you brought more than one, because I don’t see us leaving this bed unless we have to."
"A man after my own heart."
I never like to admit things like this, but I fear she might be right. And I fear, even more, that she doesn’t care how those words just made me feel.
Because, fuck it, I am after her heart.
I need it to belong to me more than I’ve ever needed anything.
I drag my mouth over hers, slow and desperate, claiming every inch like I’ve got all night to taste her.
My hand slips between her thighs, fingers gliding over the soft heat of her, and I feel her breath catch against my lips as I circle her clit.
She arches beneath me, welcoming my touch.
Her hands scramble for my shoulders, my back, my neck—anything she can hold onto while I press a finger inside her.
She gasps, her eyes fluttering shut, and I don’t let her look away.
Not tonight. Not when I need her to see what this is.
"Songbird?"
"Yeah?"
"I want your eyes on me while I fuck you." Her gaze flicks to mine, her body shuddering beneath my touch.
"They're always on you, Avery."
Tonight, we don't kiss like strangers, and we don't fuck like we'll never see each other again.
This is so much more than that.
It feels like the first night of something more.
When I slide inside of her, she claws at my back with her fingertips, and kisses me with meaning.
When she rides me with her grip locked on the headboard, her perfect tits bouncing in my cupped hands, I can't take my eyes off her.
And when she unravels, she isn't embarrassed or ashamed, she just…let's it happen.
To me, Olive Herring can do no wrong. And while I can't admit how I feel without her running scared, I need to dosomethingto make her want to stay.
But, I don't.
