“I won’t.” Moving off the sofa, I go to find a pair of socks and my shoes, stopping in front of Darius who is absentmindedly colouring in the squares of my crossword puzzle, while lost in thought. “I was meaning to ask you before…do you want to come to France with me?”
“I’ll go anywhere with you. But why France?”
“Zander asked me to go out there and work on the villa again. I want you to come with me. I have to work, so it won’t exactly be a holiday and I need to check with him first, but…”
“Yes!” he exclaims, cutting me off. “When? Can we go now?” Darius jumps up, the blanket falling from his shoulders, putting all his naked beauty on display. Fuck, he is going to make me late.
“Next week. So, maybe hold off on the job hunt until we’re back?”
“Deal.”
He kisses me and I inch my body away despite the warmth of his skin drawing me in.
“Can you meet me after work?” he asks, lips seeking mine. “I want you to meet someone.”
“Sure. Who?” I finally manage to put space between us, enough to get myself to the front door.
“Her name’s Sunny. You’re going to love her.”
Epilogue One
Darius
“Is that the last one?” I ask Oliver, as he settles a box down in the lounge of my penthouse. It’s been two months since we decided to live together. We spent three weeks in France and then another five living in his flat, while waiting for his lease to run out. It made the most sense that we’d live here because the penthouse is already fully paid off.
There has been little news from my father – it seems that fraud cases can take months to investigate and prosecute, so it will be a while before we find out what happens to him. We’re not on speaking terms – my choice – so I get updates from my stepmum, who has now filed for divorce, not wishing to have her family name associated with my father’s. And I can’t blame her. I’m not sure I want to be a Thorne-Sutton anymore, either.
“That’s it. I’m officially moved in,” Oliver replies, wrapping his arms around my waist. He kisses me, then slides his hands beneath my ass, lifting me off the floor. “Want to christen the place? We have time before the party.”
Nodding, I crash our lips together. “Make it quick,” I speak into his mouth as he carries me to the floor-to-ceiling window of the penthouse, pressing my back to it. Using the window to support my weight, Oliver makes speedy work of tugging my shorts over my ass. There’s the sound of a packet tearing, and then he’s pulling aside the string of my thong and pushing two lubed fingers into my hole.
I gasp at the sudden intrusion, throwing my head back on the glass. He works both fingers deeper, grazing over my prostate, and the bite of discomfort quickly morphs into a burning pleasure.
“Fuck, Ollie.” I grind my ass down on his thick digits.
“That’s it. Ride my fingers.”
Oliver latches onto my neck, sinking his teeth into my flesh. I groan loudly, overwhelmed by the sweaty scent of him, the sting and the fullness inside me. It’s all too much and yet, not nearly enough.
“More.”
He sucks harder, leaving a mark I won’t be able to cover, while driving a third finger into my tight channel. Pleasure builds with every pass over my sensitive bundle of nerves, urging me closer to my release. My cock, trapped in my shorts, throbs frustratingly against the fabric and I want to free it so I can stroke myself to completion.
“Fuck me already,” I demand, earning a nip on my collarbone. But he doesn’t tease me – not this time. Gripping Oliver’s shoulders, I hold on as he pulls his hand out of me and uses it to shuffle his joggers down until his cock is out, brushing against my ass cheek, leaving behind a cool streak of pre-cum.
“Hold on.” He pushes me harder against the window as he spreads my cheeks and guides his cock into my hole. Oliver’s not slow or gentle. He takes me like he’s thirsty, and I’m the onlything that can satisfy him. It’s rough and hard and so perfect it brings tears to my eyes.
“All of London can see you, baby. They have a nice view of my cock sinking into your tight hole.”
“Jesus,” I blow out, my back sliding up and down the glass. The image of people watching bringing me so close to the edge, my pulse races. Oliver thrusts his hips up, and I cry out, breathlessly screaming his name as he fucks me harder. My body tenses and I sink a hand beneath the waistband of my shorts and stroke my cock, seeking Oliver’s lips in a brutal kiss as I come, wetting my thong and shorts with my release.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Oliver chants into my mouth, his movements growing frantic. He shouts my name as his orgasm hits, filling me with his seed.
We’re still for a heartbeat, soaring on bliss while catching our breaths. My legs wobble when Oliver pulls out then helps me to my feet.
“Turn around,” he says, using a hand on my hip to turn me so that my front is against the glass, and his warm, sweaty chest is at my back. Below us, London lays sprawling under a bright blue sky dotted with puffy candyfloss clouds.
“I want to give you the world, Darius.”
